My hands clench, but I don’t bother responding when I’d rather he get out of my head. With a final glare, I beeline for Greer.
“Please tell me I get to fight him.” I jut my chin toward Wilder.
A slow smile crawls up at the corner of her mouth. “You’d take him on with no magic? It’s brave. I’ll give you that. Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”
I didn’t realize she had any opinion of me after our brief meeting, but at least her comment sounds like a compliment.
She pushes to stand, sheathing her dagger and resting her palm on the pommel of her sword. “What’s your preferred weapon?”
“Weapon?”
“That’s what I said.” She breathes out an annoyed breath. “Sword, dagger, bow and arrow?—”
“I thought you were teaching me how to access my magic.”
Greer snorts, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something, but pausing when a guard shifts on his feet behind me.
“You can leave us.” Her tone is cold, and the guards immediately turn to leave.
Except Callum, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Wilder.
“You too, Wilhelm,” she calls out Callum by his last name.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” His eyes stay trained on Wilder. “The king wants Elorie protected.”
“Are you implying I’m incapable of protecting her?” Greer’s stormy gaze is downright lethal, like she hopes Callum will challenge her just so she can prove her point.
Callum clears his throat, obviously torn. He offers me a final glance before taking a step back. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“We won’t.” Greer stalks across the training ring, stopping in the center while Callum disappears.
I hadn’t realized there was a breeze a moment ago, but the air stills once Callum is gone, and I wonder how much of that was him.
“Weapons.” Greer slings open a wooden chest and points down. “Pick one.”
While I’m thankful the audience has left, now that it’s just the three of us, I feel Wilder watching my every move. His attention sears into the side of my face, and my cheeks burn. Or is that my freckles?
“Do I make you flustered, Starfire?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“That’s not ano.”
I storm across the ring, stopping in front of the chest and taking in the collection of weapons. There’s a bow, arrows. Strapped to the sides are an assortment of swords and daggers. At the bottom is a mace.
I select a dagger that reminds me of the one Callum used to give me when we trained back home, and suddenly I’m wishing I practiced more. If my fighting skills are as pathetic as my inability to summon magic, I doubt Wilder will let me hear the end of it.
“Interesting.” Greer slams the chest shut.
“What is?”
She unsheathes a dagger herself, spinning it in her hand so quickly that I know I’m definitely outmatched.
“The choice of weapon says a lot about the warrior. Archers prefer keeping their distance. They’re patient but precise. A swordsman attacks with brute force, relying on their strength. But a dagger wielder…” She spins hers around in her hand. The polished blade sparkles in the sun. “It’s personal. It forces you to look your opponent in the eyes when you gut them.”
Her fingers wrap the handle, and it stops so quickly, I jump. My eyes move up, and I find her judgmental gaze lit with amusement.
“Callum trained me with a dagger because I can’t outmatch a Fae in strength or force. Catching them off guard is my best chance.” I hold my dagger at my side, my fingers aching from my tight grip. “It’s what I’m used to.”
