Tane grumbles, “I thought I’d get you that time. What tipped you off?”
Mathilda giggles. “I saw your reflection in Lena’s eyes, you oaf.”
Tane slings an arm over her shoulder, and her wings twitch as she adjusts to his weight. He eyes me up and down, his browseverely shadowing his dark brown eyes. He’s very intimidating, and I struggle to meet his eyes.
Instead, I study the elaborate tattoos lining his arms. The swirls and lines are unique to the Maori people. I remember reading somewhere that their tattoos have something to do with their ancestry, skill, and social rank. He must’ve been very important, judging by the amount of work and lines that accentuate his brawny arms. He’s a mass of corded muscles.
“Why do you look like that?” he asks me.
Mathilda bumps him with her hip. “We’ve gone over this. You’re a big guy with a grumpy brow. You have to smile or something when you talk.”
Tane grimaces in an attempt at a smile. “Like this?” he speaks through his clenched teeth.
Mathilda giggles. “No. Now you’ll frighten children.”
“Oi, sorry, I mean, you seem different from yesterday,” he says to me, but fake whispers to Mathilda, “Better?”
Mathilda and I share a look before we both laugh. Tane grumbles something about ridiculous women.
“It’s fine. You are right. I am a bit different now. Odessa said it’s because the realm has something to do with it, but whatever it is, I feel amazing.”
I’m about to change the subject and ask them how long they’ve been together when Julius walks up. His presence ends our conversation. “This doesn’t look like training to me,” he jests, but it comes out harsh. Tane’s face shifts into something more glowering, and I realize the face I was getting from him was pretty pleasant compared to this.
Mathilda shifts slightly in front of Tane, and his arm slips from her shoulders. “Sorry, that’s our fault,” she says to him before adding, “We’ll take the east sparring ring.”
“Then it looks like we’re left with the west end.” He frowns. “In the shade.”
As if I didn’t like her enough already, I realized that Mathildapicked the sunny portion of the training grounds and had left the shaded side with the refreshments table for me. Gods bless her.
Tane keeps glancing over his shoulder at us as Mathilda drags him to their side of the grounds. I might be mistaken, but a glimmer of worry flickers in his eyes before they are back on her.
“Alright, since I gather you know absolutely nothing about training,” he smirks, “let’s just focus on getting a baseline today to see how much work this is going to take.”
Julius’ lack of confidence isn’t surprising, and if anything, his typical rudeness is kind of boring at this point, so I don’t engage. I only nod.
He frowns at my lack of rebuttal. “Let’s start with some sprints. I’ll mark six lines in the dirt. Sprint to a line and then back to the fence, to the next line and back, until you’ve done each line.”
Julius points to the training ground fence behind me, and I walk towards it, deeper into the shade. He begins drawing lines with his foot in the dirt.
Behind the fence stands a large maple tree. Its trunk is so large that a single person couldn’t wrap their arms around it. A weapon is lodged in the trunk of the tree. It looks to be an ax, but the blade is buried nearly to the hilt, and the tree has started to grow around it. The shaft of the ax is a work of art, the carved wood depicting an elaborate scene of ravens in various stages of flight. Julius approaches behind me, having finished marking the lines.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing at the ax in the tree.
He widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest, a very defensive stance. “Odin’s ax.”
His reply is curt, obviously not wanting to elaborate, but it doesn’t deter me from asking more questions.
“Why is it here?”
The feathers carved on each raven’s wing are so detailed that you can see the vanes and barbs.
“Because no one has been honorable enough to pull it from the tree.” His words are laced with exasperation.
The urge to grab the hilt and try myself burns through me. But before I can even try, Julius walks to the ax and slaps the hilt. The action is so crude and disrespectful, a taunt to the god who created this realm. I reel back in shock.
But he barks, “Now run!”
I force a neutral expression on my face while breaking into a sprint, racing to the first line and dropping low to tap the line with my hand before running back to the fence. My breath comes easy, and my muscles seem to vibrate, itching to go faster. I’ve never been a quick runner, having always enjoyed longer distances instead, so this is a surprise. This new body revels in the challenge, and I finish the task much quicker than Julius seemed to expect. I come to a stop in front of him, my breath still steady after hitting all six lines.
