Thessa landed, the force of it pulling Soren from the hazy lull of the magic just as Vane fell to his knees. She gasped and tugged on Death’s hands, forcing him back before he could consume Vane any further.
Frantically, she slid of Thessa’s back, ignoring the pain that shot up her legs as she hit the ground and sprinted over to Vane. He waslaughingas she approached.
“Good,” he said, voice rasping. “You’re already stronger than I thought.”
This time, he did not catch her wrist as she bent down and slapped him hard across the face.
“I could have killed you!” she shouted. “I almost did!”
Vane’s hand rose to his face, his fingertips brushing across the reddening skin. When his gaze met hers, she froze.
“Don’t say it.”
She swallowed hard. “Say what?”
“Sorry. I know you want to.”
Shifting her gaze to the horizon, she blinked back a sudden burning in her eyes. “Earlier, before I stopped myself, I wanted to call you an idiot. Which you are.”
“Mm, perhaps. But now, we know you can do it.”
She flicked her gaze back to his. “What? Stop myself?”
“No, Soren. Kill someone you care for. You may have to someday, given what side of the war you are currently on.”
She bristled. “First of all, I didn’t kill you, and second, you are my trainer, nothing more. We both know that.”
Humor disappeared from his face. His jaw flexed, and he said, “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I am. We can’t be friends. Friends do not keep so many secrets between them.”
Vane said nothing, instead rising and offering her a hand. She ignored him, standing on her own and avoiding his eyes.
She practiced with Thessa for the rest of the day, Vane giving instructions that the dragon seemed to understand before they took to the air. Soren didn’t speak to him beyond nods and vague acknowledgments. Still, even as she tried to rebuild a wall between them, the tension did not dissipate, and her emotions only continued to run wild. It all grew worse when she looked at him, so she tried to avoid doing so.
When evening darkened the sky and they landed for the last time, she found Vane had gone, leaving another generously filled pack of food in his place. She tried to continue being angry with him. It was a task that proved more difficult than it should have been.
She waited until camp was quiet to return to the tent, curling up on the sleeping mat and trying not to cry until sleep claimed her.
A dagger whizzed past her ear, nearly nicking it before it embedded itself in the tree behind her. The air was cooler now, the foliage around them shades of tan and brown.
“Not bad,” she mused before sauntering over to him.
She kissed him, slow and thorough, letting her fingers twine through the dark strands of his hair. He groaned into her mouth, and she arched against him.
“Show me,” he said on her lips. “I want to see you try to kill me, darling.”
She grinned and pulled back. “Try? You underestimate me.”
“I’m sure I do.”
She drew her blade first, tossing him the other. He caught it easily, and as they began to circle one another, she asked, “How did you learn to fight? I don’t assume many farmhands have use for killing?”
“My mother,” he replied, dipping his chin. “She didn’t want me to be defenseless, I suppose.”
“And who taught her?”
He made the first move, and she sidestepped him easily before swinging out her foot. He stumbled but managed to steady himself.
