“Tired?” A toothy grin spreads across her lovely face, the scar at her brow pulling at her skin when she waggles her eyebrows at me.
I can’t help but chuckle even as I try to school my features and keep the blush from my cheeks.
“Not like that,” I insist.
“What a shame,” she says, with a playful punch to my arm.
Honoring my request, she does start slow but quickly decides that I’m not as tired as I let on when I deflect each of her strikes with ease. What I intend to be a light round of simple routine strikes and deflections swiftlyescalates.
It’s not long before each of us is receiving well-placed blows by the other, sweat slicking our brows. I can tell by the look on her face that she enjoys the sparring as much as I do, though she still pulls her punches, likely for fear of the general’s retribution.
We are nearing the end of our session, the warm sun nearly at its full height in the clear spring sky, when an icy tingle snakes down my spine, Toren’s voice sounding closely behind me. “May I join you in the ring?”
I lock eyes with Riah, giving her the faintest shake of my head, my eyes pleading with her to decline. Her smile says everything as she waves the commander into the ring, thoroughly ignoring me.
“Of course. I could use a break,” she says, jumping up to sit on the fence bordering the ring, looking far too pleased with herself and the unexpected turn of events.
Toren relieves himself of his leather gauntlets before rolling up his sleeves, and I huff under my breath at the male’s arrogance. Whether he intends to offend me or not, he succeeds. There is no reason to remove armor when sparring unless you perceive that there is no threat. It’s a clear declaration as to how he views my abilities and I bristle, my pride taking the first blow before the round even begins.
So, I do what any idiot would do in my position and remove my gauntlets as well, adding my cuirass to the pile of discarded armor shortly after. His lips quirk up at the edges as I happily imply thatheis at a greater disadvantage in this ring. Boldly, he removes his cuirass as well, throwing it in the pile of leather.
The guards nearby begin to gather in small clusters, and I’m reminded of the first round I’d ever done with Riah. They try—and fail—to look nonchalant as they speak in hushed tones, every eye watching intently as the scene unfolds. I can only assume that the scarred male before me has hundreds of years on the measly twenty I’ve been training. But he’s lived the last twenty years in peace, tenuous as it is. I, on the other hand, have spent nearly every waking moment of that time training for my purpose.
He doesn’t begin slowly like Riah always does, testing my limitations before deciding on her next series of strikes. The male lunges at me, full force,not an ounce of hesitation in his body. Only narrowly do I avoid the fist that he intends for my jaw. It would have sent me to the floor of the ring. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it when a wicked smile breaks upon my face, my blood heating as the tension builds.
This. This is what I’ve been missing.
Toren is quick to strike again, but he leans in too far, failing in his attempt to catch me off guard. I dodge the strike even as I throw myself toward him, vaulting off his bent knee as I twist my body, sending all the force into my knee as it collides with the side of his head. The unmistakable sound of bone-on-bone cracks in the air and the male goes down hard.
Riah swears from the sidelines, tensing as if she might jump from where she is seated atop the fence. She stifles a nervous chuckle when Toren shakes off the impact and begins to rise. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but he certainly started it.
The commander grasps the hand I offer, and I help him to his feet, a little surprised when he takes a stance that implies he would like to continue. But then again, so would I.
He seems to have learned his lesson and doesn’t leave himself open for another brutal attack. He doesn’t pull his punches like the female watching gleefully from her perch on the fence either. If I was debating letting him land a few blows to throw him off the reality of my abilities, that time has passed. Almost every swing the male takes promises a break or fracture that I would rather not endure.
I believe we are evenly matched until the dreadful moment when his lips curve up in a sly smile. I know that smile. Words spoken to me countless times in my childhood surface in my mind, unbidden.You’re letting your guard down, Vari.
It’s too late to recover, I know it is. And my blood chills as I block a blow to my side, seeing in the last moment the knee he throws, just as it connects with my thigh. Something sharp snaps inside me. A bone, my heart, I’m not sure which and both promise to be equally painful until well-tended. I stuff down the well of emotions that flood me when the locked compartment of my memories is broken open, its contents seeping out to saturate my heart and mind.
A bone. Just a bone. Thank the stars.
I stagger back, wincing as I struggle to catch my breath through the pain, and Riah rushes to my side, a puff of fine silt wafting in the air beneath her feet.
“I’m all right,” I assure her.
When she doesn’t reply, I follow her gaze. The blood draining from her face is not due to the bruising she will have to explain to Caden, but the sight of the general as he rounds the last of the wild hedges that buffer the palace from the stables. The male is taking long strides toward us with nothing to slow him down.
I clench my teeth, standing tall as I force weight onto my leg that it can hardly be expected to hold for long. I have no desire to witness the punishment the general will level on Toren if he finds out that the male has broken a single part of me. I’m debating how in haliel to maintain the deception when Riah grips my broken leg and I suppress a cry of agony.
“Sorry for this.” It’s the only warning she gives before wrapping her hand around my side and I’m struck by the blinding pain of her mending as it reaches my bone.
My face pales as I suck in a hiss and will my mind not to lose itself to the dark that threatens in the corners of my vision.
Toren watches curiously as I grit my teeth through the brutal healing, my forehead beading with sweat as the bone knits itself back together with an audible crackling pop. The commander doesn’t seem the least bit concerned, though he must be aware by now that the general is nearly here.
I wonder at his calm demeanor. If I know anything about the male stalking toward us it is that he’s likely to gut anyone that so much as bruises me. I’m sure a broken bone would garner a punishment that would make a death sentence seem like mercy.
“Shivaria,” Xeyvian says. I meet his eyes and smile just as Riah releases me.
