“I think she should have been a warrior, Xey,” Awri says and laughs.
“I’m quite sure she already is,” he replies.
A tingle of unease rushes down my spine as my gaze snaps to his. I shrug off the shiver, relieved when I see the jest in his eyes.
“I’d like Awri to begin training with you in the mornings,” he says, “At least until we solve the riddle of the abandoned ship on the eastern shore.”
He ushers me toward the washroom with a hand on my lower back. “You told me you had a fighting instructor back home, and I’d like to keep those skills of yours sharp.”
A sickening sheen of guilt coats the excitement budding inside me. I want this. I need this. I am a well-made tool with a single purpose, and any tool can become dull if left discarded and untended for too long. But the general has no idea of the blade he is honing or the purpose for which it was made. Like Awri’s trust in me, this will be yet another moment they willcome to look back on with regret.
By the time I dress in the black leathers and the dark dress that had been tucked between them, my mood has soured completely. I flip the long braid over my shoulder when I emerge from the washroom and see Awri waiting patiently by the door. The muffled voices in the war room tell me the general has resumed his earlier discussions with Riesh and Kishek. It’s easy to assume they will remain there for the duration of the day, discussing the implications of the ship and the possibility of war.
Awri tips her head toward the door and my brow draws down. “The general said I can’t leave the room.”
“I’m sure he feels you are safe enough with me.” She smiles. “Unless you’d like to train here.” She scans the space, poking at a delicate vase until it tips back on the table, nearly falling over.
“I might,” I huff, “If only to show the male what he’s earned for his demands.”
She laughs and leads me to the sparring ring by the stables. The grounds feel a little smaller than usual. By my count, the general must have tripled the exterior guard. I wonder if the La’tari even considered the difficulties they would add to my mission by all but declaring war. No doubt they expected to have more time before they were discovered.
The ring is well groomed with a deep layer of fresh sand and a wooden fence around the border.
“Why don’t you show me what you learned from your instructor, and we can start from there,” Awri says.
Careful.
As much as my blood heats, responding to the challenge, today will be a dangerous game of convincing them of my story without becoming a threat. The art of war is something you never stop learning, and the female in front of me has no doubt been training in the art since before I was born.
I tie the panels of my gown below my hip and take up my stance, relieved she hasn’t offered me a weapon. An armed proficiency would be much harder to hide. It seems reasonable that a lady in a war-torn country would have at least been trained in the art of self-defense. So, I widen my stance and give her a nod.
She lunges forward, leaving herself open to a defensive strike, obviously unconcerned with my abilities. The combination I return is simple, something I learned as a child, and I expect her to dodge it with ease. I block the strike she throws to my face and continue my thrust with the same arm, landing a blow on her jaw. She staggers back.
“Oh hisht. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
My face contorts and I issue a relieved sigh when she begins to laugh, rubbing the knot in her jaw.
“Well, my brother will be pleased to learn that he was correct in his assessment of your skill,” she says.
I cringe. Riesh has been far too interested in my capabilities since I’d bruised the general’s face.
“Again,” she says, retaking her stance and waving me into the center.
She feigns right, but I’m not watching her feet and the blow is easy enough to dodge. She leaves herself open. This time, I don’t take the opportunity to strike.
“Now you’re holding back.” She doesn’t attempt to hide her annoyance.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
In answer, she whips her fist out again, and this time she makes no effort to pull the punch. I barely dodge the throw with a twist to the right. She hooks my ankle with her foot, trying to throw me off balance. Against my better judgment, and despite everything I told myself when I entered the ring, my reflexes take over.
I grab her arm, twist myself out of the crook of her ankle, and use the momentum from her strike to throw a knee to her abdomen. She falls to one knee, gasping for the air I’ve expelled from her lungs. A small group of guards gathers to watch, and a tall fair-skinned female in a soldier’s uniform studies me closely with her ice-blue eyes.
I offer my friend a hand, whispering under my breath, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
Awri clasps my forearm, letting me help her to her feet smirking when she sees that we’ve drawn a crowd.
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” she gasps, dusting herself off. “You justneed a partner with more skill than I possess. Xey will at least be happy to hear you have good reflexes. I, on the other hand, may need to join you for training.” She laughs and gestures to the female soldier to join us.
