“Very well, I must cut our meeting short, my dear. Tomorrow, we will journey into the forest.”
My heart seized, but I was too off-kilter from our interaction to ask more. Especially with the general’s eyes boring into me.
“Thank you for the meal, my king,” I said, eager to leave despite not getting what I wanted. We stood at the same time, and Terym took my hand in his, raised it to his mouth, and brushed his lips against it. The move should have been endearing, but the glint in his eyes only sent my heart pumping, and not in a good way. I shuffled on my feet, uncomfortable under his stare.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Adelia, dear.”
When he released my hand, I gave a small curtsy and hurried from the tent, both men’s eyes like ice-cold droplets on my back the entire way.
I’d barely made it halfway across camp when I ran into Eleanor, almost toppling us over in my hurry to get away.
“Whoa. Lia, are you okay?”
I willed my racing heart to slow as my gaze darted between her concerned hazel eyes and Pierce’s furrowed brow.
“I’m fine.” I brushed my hands down my skirt and forced a smile on my face. “Where are you off to?”
“Pierce is going to show me where the soldiers train.” Her tone was hesitant, and she pursed her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course!” I waved her concern away, desperate to think of something else. Anything other than the curse I needed to end and the fact I still had no idea how to do it. “Let’s go see some men train. With any luck, they’ll be shirtless.”
Eleanor giggled and tucked her arm in mine, sufficiently distracted. “Let’s pray Ammoraelis is looking down on us today.”
“Gods, I hope not. The Giver of Love can steer clear of me, thanks.” That would be just my luck, the Goddess of Earth had already screwed me once with Ergo. He thought he loved me, but I knew better, his infatuation nothing more than the desire to have what no one else had before.
Eleanor laughed again, patting my hand, and we followed Pierce through the city of tents. “She’ll set her sights on you one day, Lia, and you’ll have no choice but to listen.”
Chapter 7
The training grounds were located on the outskirts of camp between a row of tents and the dark forest surrounding it. The metallic scent of blood mixed with sweat hung heavy in the air.
There were soldiers everywhere.
Some ran a circuit in loose tunics. Others were hauling sandbags in various positions. Most surrounded a circle of cleared dirt. One barked command from Pierce had the crowd clearing a path so we could walk to the edge. Many of the men offered him respectful nods as we passed. It was obvious he commanded a large amount of respect among the soldiers.
Inside the ring, two men circled each other, neither wore their metal armor, only leather underclothes. Despite their lack of protection, they played a dangerous game, fighting with very real swords. They ducked and weaved around each other, metal clashing with each blocked blow. Neither hit the other. Never breaking skin. Never drawing blood.
The dark stains on the dirt indicated it wasn’t always the case.
Eleanor bounced beside me, awestruck by the fighting dance. In contrast, each clash of metal made me flinch, the violence of it all sending my stomach roiling.
I hated it. I had experienced firsthand the result of such brutality. Once the adrenaline subsided, you were left with pain and death and a hollowness in your chest you couldn’t escape.
When it became too much, I focused on the crowd skirting the edges of the ring rather than the men inside it. While many of the soldiers cheered or groaned as either opponent gained an upper hand, others stood in careful, silent consideration, studying each movement the men made.
“Each fight is a lesson to another,” Pierce said, noticing my gaze. “Using what they have learned to adjust their techniques, to improve their own skills.”
“How do you know you’ve learned enough?” I asked, giving him my attention to avoid the violent display.
“You don’t. Every opponent you face has their own lessons and experiences. They are each different. You leave each fight having learned something knew.” Gentle reverence laced every word he spoke, his passion for his position clear.
“Will you fight?” Eleanor asked, not taking her eyes off the clashing swords.
“I’m on duty,” Pierce grunted without a glance her way, and Eleanor rolled her eyes.
I returned my attention to the ring and caught sight of someone who stood out as much as we did on the other side. A man dressed far too lavishly to be a training soldier, his bright-orange hair standing out against a sea of brown and blond, clashing against the burnt orange of his tunic.
Harkin, the Lord of the Western Territory.
