Mariah rocked back on her heels. “Then maybe we should up the stakes.”
Before he answered, she launched.
Her first punch landed its mark, an undercut to his lower ribs. It wasn’t a hard hit—more a challenge than anything—but Matheo hissed, whirling to face her as she darted away. His eyes sparked, and he grinned.
“All right, Queenie. If that’s how you wanna play, let’s play.”
Her answering cackle rang across the cliffside meadow.
It felt good to be back to this every day. Training had been the only thing that kept her grounded growing up in Andburgh, in a town that could never—would never—understand her. It was what had helped her find herself after her tortuous weeks in Khento.
Whenever she felt lost and didn’t know the way, this was where she went. Where her body craved to be.
She ducked under Matheo’s hook and answered with a roundhouse kick, which he swatted away. The crisp mountain wind tugged at her braid. Her hair was finally long enough for it, tied off at the end with a small red ribbon she’d found in their apartments.
Her focus sharpened. Matheo was leaving his left side unguarded. He always seemed to do that, no matter how much they trained.
She spun, easily avoiding his next jab, before diving down and punching up.
Her blow landed on his left ribs, where she’d first hit him. This time her attack was stronger, more focused. Matheo doubled over with a wheezing breath.
“Okay,” he rasped. “Break. Please.”
Mariah chuckled. “Every time with that left side, Matheo.”
Her Armature straightened, still grimacing. “I know, I know.” He lifted the hem of his shirt, wiping some of the dripping sweat off his brow. “This is why I prefer the bow to hand-to-hand combat.”
“Too bad you need to be proficient at both, Riqueti.” Andrian emerged from the tree line, carrying a waterskin and a dulled-edge longsword.
A veryshirtlessandsweatingAndrian. Mariah swallowed, suddenly needing her waterskin.
“And where the fuck have you been?” Matheo demanded. “Still self-conscious about training in front of others?”
“I’m not self-conscious,” Andrian said with a slow smirk. His long strides ate up the ground. “I just didn’t want to embarrass you.”
Matheo mumbled something, but Mariah narrowed her eyes on Andrian.
Wherehadhe been? It was the same every day. They would run up the mountain to the meadow, then she and Matheo would train together while Andrian disappeared into the trees.
Maybe she shouldn’t have taunted him like she had a few days ago. She’d been so sure it would rattle something in him, would finally get him to open up and talk. For a moment, she’d almost been sure that it had worked.
But no. He’d just decided to put even more space between them. Not publicly; he was normal—for him—when they left their apartments.
When they were alone, for goddess’s sake, he’d even taken to sleeping on the couches rather than sharing the bed.
Was this his revenge? Some bizarre justification for hiding whatever had happened to him in Khento?
What could possibly be that bad?
But she knew. Sheknewwhat could be so bad that he’d refuse to talk to her about it.
She’d seen all her own worst nightmares come to life in that castle, after all.
Mariah ground her teeth. No. Maybe it was her own arrogance talking, but he wouldn’t have. Hecouldn’thave.
“Why don’t you spar now with me, then?” Matheo taunted.
Andrian lifted a dark brow. “If you insist, Riqueti?—”
