Except she hadn’t.
It was so much more than that, though. Brela had him questioning everything from the minute he met her. Enough to make his quick magic impulse in the office last night aim at separating the king and Brela, not strike her down like he should have.
Cason huffed. “You’re just upset that she stole your knife when you weren’t looking.” Boelyn raised his eyebrow in surprise as Cason amended, “Captain.”
“Now you’re making jokes?” The man let out a chuckle between breaths. “Maybe you’re spending too much time with Serill. He’s rubbing off on you.”
“I seem to remember the two of you wanting me to loosen up. Now you’re complaining because I’m joking at your expense?”
Boelyn slowed as they neared the training courtyard. “Leave it to you to take that to the extreme and fall for a Veil Worshipper and assassin.”
“Believe me,” Cason grumbled. “I didn’t see it coming either.”
The sound of wooden swords clacking on the other side of the maze of bushes had the two captains exchanging curious glances. The Guard wasn’t expected to be training this early in the morning, and Serill wasn’t passed out against the tree where they had left him, so who could be sparring this early?
Nothing could have prepared Cason for what he was going to see.
As he and Boelyn walked around the corner, his eyes were immediately drawn to Serill. The prince was dancing around the grass with his wooden sword lifted toward Farrah. She’d found dark pants and a new shirt, a pale blue that highlighted her tan skin. It was loose enough to reveal a few swirls of black along her upper back, though the smooth waves of water ink seemed distorted and imperfect. Maybe she had gone to the earth temple after all, though, after seeing her ice magic work, he assumed she would have had a lot more black etched into her skin.
She lifted her own training sword, her face tight in concentration as she glared at Serill. And then she lunged.
Boelyn moved to intercept but Cason gripped his arm and stopped him, still watching.
Serill deflected the blow swiftly, and though Farrah’s feet were smooth and quick, her arms looked disconnected from her body. She swung again, Serill twisting around her attack and delivering one of his own. They traded two more hits, the prince getting the best of her with a smack to the thigh on the last strike, before Farrah’s arm dropped and she swore loudly to the sky.
“Swords are dumb.”
The prince laughed. “You’re only saying that because you’re losing.”
Farrah stuck her tongue out toward him before getting back in her stance. “Show me again.”
Now Cason stepped forward. “What’s going on here?”
“Training,” Farrah replied, not taking her wary gaze away from Serill as he adjusted her stance without touching her. “What else would we be doing after Boelyn so rudely woke us this morning?” She grinned slightly as her blue eyes darted to the captains. “Brela still hasn’t stopped laughing.”
Boelyn grumbled under his breath, grabbing his water from the shade of the nearby tree.
Serill tapped Farrah’s arm with his wooden sword. “You’re still treating this like a dagger. When you get too close to your opponent, you give up your power.”
Cason leaned against the tree, watching Farrah adjust to Serill’s instructions. “You’ve never used a sword?”
“They aren’t very useful in my line of business,” she replied, somehow able to mimic Serill’s movements perfectly while still talking. “I’m the smallest, so stealth comes naturally. I wanted Serill to show me how he cut down that finola dart and my ice attack so easily.”
“You shot a finola dart at him?” Cason blurted.
Serill grimaced. “Imayhave conveniently left that part out.”
Farrah just shrugged. “That wasn’t me. Brela is terribly slow with the blowgun.”
“I am not slow!” Brela’s voice echoed across the courtyard. Then a thud and grunt of pain before, “Four hells!”
“Thanks, Farrah!” Elias shouted, somewhere in the same direction that Brela’s voice had come from.
“Loves, please don’t break any bones this time! We have an audience,” Farrah shouted after them.
Serill paused his instructions, raising his eyebrow as a few more grunts were exchanged, both Elias and Brela swearing colorfully in the distance. Even Boelyn had perked up. Cason caught Farrah’s gaze, her smirk confirming what he knew was about to crash through the bushes.
Sure enough, Elias came tumbling onto the grass first, rolling until he was on his back. Cason was surprised to see the minimal earth tattoos along the man’s bare chest considering the strength of power Elias had, and the symbols on his shoulder were foreign. But the amount of muscle he possessed wasn’t a surprise, nor were the welts peppering his skin, both long and round. Made by fists and some sort of small weapon, probably the match to the single dagger he clutched in his right hand.
