I try not to cringe when I ask if she has seen the general. Being late for lessons has never been an option with the woman and I have no doubt she will make me regret my choices fully before the end of the day. My skin crawls when she doesn’t mention my tardiness or my attire, though I am all too aware that she notes both.
“Bront is otherwise engaged. I will be stepping in to assist in your war lessons until he returns.”
Foc.
Bront has never missed one of our scheduled training sessions and Leanna is the last person in all of Terr I would choose to replace him. Not that I would ever be given a choice.
I school my face into a placid mask, straightening my back when I say, “All right. I’ll just go and change into my leathers.”
“No need. You will remain just as you are.”
She turns and makes her way toward the sparring ring and my brow furrows as I start after her warily. There are lessons in war that do not require the use of steel or armor, but Leanna is no tactician, at least not that I have ever seen. The sparring ring is eerily vacant for this time of day, despite the heat, and it does nothing to help the sudden disquiet I feel when my tutor pulls a long leather strap from among the weapon racks.
“I will be testing your proficiency with your off hand,” she says, pulling my right arm behind my back and fastening it against my spine.
“I attack. You defend.” She barely finishes her sentence when her closed fist lands a blow to my jaw, sending me staggering to the side.
I shake the fog from my brain and my eyes snap to hers. I see it now, the anger behind her eyes, and it hollows out my stomach.
“I heard something interesting today,” she says, just before she swings again.
This time I dodge.
“You remember Avanjelin, don’t you?” she asks, running a finger along the side of her face. As if I will ever need to be reminded of the girl I accidentally scarred with my blade years ago. “She was in the woods this morning and claims to have stumbled upon the strangest thing.”
I can feel the wrinkles between my eyes deepen as I try to ascertain what this is all about. She lunges toward my left, but I see the feign for what it is and block the fist that swings in from the right before rolling out of her reach and resuming a defensive position on my feet.
“Tell me, Shivaria. What were you doing in the woods this morning with the master of shadows?”
“Training.” I can feel the crease in my brow deepen as I answer.
“Without your clothes on?” She jerks her chin toward the too large tunic I wear and when my eyes flick down to it, she lands another jab.
This time her knuckles land as if they were stone, splitting the tender flesh beneath my left eye. I suck in a curse, partially in pain but also furious for allowing myself to look away from the threat before me.
“I’ve often wondered why you have always been his favorite student. I suppose now the entire keep knows exactly how you’ve gained your marks. I only hope you’ve enough sense to have kept yourself intact.”
Her eyes wander across my cheeks, taking in the blush rushing to the surface of my skin under the weight of her accusations.
Before she can misinterpret my rage for embarrassment, I hiss, “We’ve never—It isn’t like that.”
She barks a laugh, a hideous and bitter sound. The wind picks up, stirring the dry dirt beneath our feet and, as if inspired by the weather, Leanna kicks a cloud of dust into my face. I reel back, trying to blink away the grains that scrape beneath my eyelids, and take another devastating blow to the jaw. The strike is precise, sending me to the ground with a bright flash of light that swallows up the world.
Before I can get my feet under me a fist slams into my side and I yelp just as the crack of my rib claps in my ears.
“I hear you even have a little nickname for the master of shadows.Kesh, is it?”
I grip my side with my loose arm, protecting the broken rib, sucking a punishing breath into my lungs. Leanna stands over me with a self-satisfied smile.
“Get up,” she demands.
I take another shallow breath, carefully maneuvering onto my feet. I feel like a fool as Leanna rounds on me again. She hasn’t beaten me in a sparring match in months, thanks to my training with Vakesh. No wonder she bound my arm and told me to stay in the flimsy fabric of the tunic. She never intended for this to be a lesson, not in the way I perceived it. This is a beating.
I throw my arm out to block another of Leanna’s blows, only to expose my ribs to a rounding kick. Even as her knee slams into me, the sharp, brutal pain ripping a shriek from my lungs, I feel her restraint. The rib floats in my chest like a dagger. While I’m not altogether convinced that she won’t strike it toward my heart, I hope that her control is a sign that she values my life too highly to end it now.
Before I can recover from the pain, she sends me to the ground with a downward blow that splits my lip. A warm trickle of blood mixes with my sweat, slicking my chin before it drips to puddle on the silty floor of the ring. I stay down. This was never a fight I was going to win—she’s made sure of it.
A summer storm begins to roll in, flicking Leanna’s braid in its turbulent winds as she stands over me, victorious.
