Vakesh alone noticed the change in me and pulled me from my sleep early one morning without explanation. It was a testament to our friendship and the trust we share that I followed him without question, through the forest and down the precarious scree field littering the face of the valley.
When we emerged from the dense foliage of the forest at the edge of the winding river in which we now train, my eyes lit up and our plans diverged. While the shadow master thought my darkening countenance might be lifted by more leisurely activities, I’d been quick to wrangle him back into the lessons that distract from the nightmares that plague me.
The current is still swift despite the time of year. As if it works in tandem with the wind, the water wraps around my calves gently stroking the fatigued muscles, while the cool breeze caresses my dry extremities. It is heaven.
Vakesh has, at my request, been happy to train me to move silently in the water. After failing miserably for two days I’ve only become more determined to perfect the feat. It is my singular focus and despite my best efforts, it isn’t going very well.
The shadow master stands two strides before me, the light fabric of his white tunic fluttering against his abdomen as the leaves overhead mimic the sound of the sea. His eyes are closed behind the black length of fabric he tied over them. I told him it wasn’t necessary; I trust him. He is the most honest man I have ever met, but he continues to insist, tying it on every morning without fail.
Slowly, I raise my foot off the rocky floor of the riverbed and take a step forward with my left foot. Vakesh points to the foot, and I return to my starting position. I begin again, careful to move with the current where it weaves around a large boulder. I rest the pad of my foot on the teetering rock beneath it and hold my breath. When he doesn’t move, I press my weight onto it fully, willing the rock to stay in place. A single shift of the slate will give away my position.
My next step brings me within reach of him, it’s taken me days to get this close, and I’m afraid to loose the breath in my lungs until I strike him and claim the title ofmaster for the day. I’m sure Vakesh regrets the game he invented by now. Every time I win, I make him hunt and cook me a fresh meal for dinner. He never complains.
I steady myself on the loose rocks underfoot, striking forward as quickly as I can. My stomach hollows the moment I commit to the jab, noting the smirk on his face. I never stood a chance. Not only does he blockmy blow, he grapples my arm and I pitch sideways.
“Hisht.” The curse comes out just as the slate stone rocks beneath my foot do, sending me tumbling into the water.
He pulls the black cloth from his eyes and fails to stifle a laugh while offering me his arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” he says, but the rest is lost amidst his growing laughter.
A chuckle escapes me, and I take his arm. He pulls me from the water, the slate rocks shifting beneath my feet as I rise and careen into his chest. His hands move to my waist, holding me upright while I regain my footing.
I flush as his eyes track the droplets falling from my face, down my neck, and over my peaked nipples. The pink flesh at the center of my breasts made obvious by the cool water drenching the thin fabric of my tunic. When his eyes find mine again, I lift an eyebrow and the corner of my mouth quirks up. The blush that rushes to his cheeks is exquisite, though I regret the absence of his hands at my waist when he removes them abruptly.
“For the love of the veil, Vari,” he says under his breath as he moves his eyes over everything but me.
I laugh. “I never imagined the master of shadows would share the same weakness as every other man on the face of Terr.”
I feel like I’ve won something when he only heaves a breath, still unwilling to meet my eyes. It’s not every day the shadow master is thrown off guard.
Checking the sun’s placement, I begin to panic. Today is the first day I am to resume my training with Bront since the heat wave set in, and I’m going to be late.
“Kesh,” I twist my braid, wringing the water from it, “let me have your shirt.”
Finally, he looks at me, but his brow is drawn as he surveys my outstretched hand, puzzled by my request. I know he heard me, but I become worried when he doesn’t immediately move to give me his tunic.
“Please, Kesh. I’m going to be late for my morning training with Bront, and I can’t go back to the keep like this, and anyway, it’s your fault I’m soaking wet.”
I don’t like to beg but I’ve found Vakesh to be particularly susceptible to it.
“Stars above, Vari. Fine, take the shirt.” He gives in with a sigh and pulls his mostly dry tunic over his head.
It’s hard not to notice the tumble of hard-won muscles adorning his abdomen or the definition of those distracting dents on his hips, lost below the line of his pants.
I spin around before he catches my eyes on him and teases me as I’ve just teased him. Pulling the drenched tunic off, I toss it onto the shore to dry then reach over my shoulder and wait until I feel him place his tunic in my hand. Sliding it over my head I take in a lungful of Kesh’s comforting scent. It smells like home, like a wind that brings with it the promise of a coming rain.
“See you for training,” I yell as I rush off through the forest with a grin, imagining the shadow master walking through the keep in my sopping wet tunic when he returns.
I regret every step I take away from him, dashing through the forest, toward the keep. Something has changed, though I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is or when it happened. A tension has settled between us, not altogether unpleasant, but it has stripped away some of the ease we’ve shared for years.
I no longer feel entirely settled in the shadow master’s presence, and he has begun to move around me like I am a doe on one of our hunts. As if I might be spooked away at the snapping of a twig. It is something I don’t understand.
Things I have endured for years have begun to chafe. A month ago, I sent one of Leanna’s beauties to the infirmary after baiting her into a sparring match. No one asked questions when I set aside my usual restraint and dropped her to the floor of the ring with a single well-placed blow.
I overheard her whispering to a girl in her class, dark promises about what she would do to the shadow master when she slipped into his room that night. The conversation bristled me unreasonably, though I’m not sure why. I have heard my share of similar comments over the years, even laughed when a group of ladies wagered a year ago about which would be the first totake him to bed.
I push the stray thoughts out of my mind as I break from the deadwood, jogging toward the ring, looking for Bront. I will puzzle it all out some other time. I’m already late, but I know he’ll give me time to change into my leathers before we train. Only it isn’t Bront I find waiting for me today, it’s Leanna.
