“Innocent people died,” he said finally, his voice rough with something like regret. “People who shouldn’t have.”
“Was it the Ravager?” I asked.
I’d heard rumors that the king was hunting the Ravager, the Azure rebel leader, with great intensity. Rebel raids were occurringincreasingly often, personalized by the seal of the Ravager—a jagged iron lightning bolt—left behind in wax. Every day, some of the Tyger Warriors rotated out for duties instead of training, and Blake had been gone all day.
He didn’t answer. Now he looked bloodied, broken and barely able to stand due to exhaustion.
“When I saw you dancing, it was as if I caught a glimpse of clear sky after a long, dark storm,” he said suddenly, before ducking his head. I could just spot the shade of pink high in his cheeks, as if the words had slipped out on their own.
“It’s the one thing I’m good at.”
Blake shook his head. “No. It’s not.” The softly spoken words shook me for a moment, but before I could respond, he said, “I want to show you something.”
My throat tightened as he stood and began removing the heavy metal outer layer of his armor. The stars burned bright and cold above us, but as I stood there, the night felt warmer than it should have.
This was a different Blake Axefire beneath the stars. And he was far more dangerous than the one who tried to break me.
He removed a thundervein blade and carefully placed it atop his other things in a pile. “Is it hard to carry the title without him?” I asked, my voice soft. “What is it like being the remaining Twin Blade?”
Shaking his head, he ran a hand through sweat-damp hair. He glanced up then, and for a second, there was no mask on his face at all. “Like my hands will never be clean again.” His twisted smile was a hollow, broken thing.
“Come here, Rubi,” he said, and my name felt different then on his mouth. Perhaps it was the moonlight making everything feel more charged, but something felt right. Balanced.
Intense.
I stepped forward, feeling less intimidated as he stood now in only his underlying black warrior clothes, similar in style to our training garb.
“What?”
“I want you to try and fight me with the ribbons.”
“But you said—”
“Forget what I said,” he murmured, so close I could easily reach out and touch him. “I’m ascorchhole, right?”
My cheeks flamed, but I nodded with a quick gulp. “Right.”
He stepped back, spreading his feet and sinking into a slight squat that made his thighs bulge against the fabric of his pants. Hands lifted, he made acome onmotion toward me.
I snaked out my ribbons, letting them loose at my side.
We moved slowly at first, my ribbons whipping out as I warmed up to using them like a weapon and not a dancing tool. I nearly tripped.
Blake shook his head. “No. Don’t overthink it. Just treat it like you would dancing.” It was a soft command this time.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the sound of the breeze, the soft grass beneath my feet. I swept my hands up and down, snapping the ribbons out.
“Again.”
I opened my eyes. He came at me more fiercely, still unarmed but powerful and so much bigger than me. He had strength on his side, but I had speed.
I managed to get one of my ribbons around his wrist, but he unwrapped it easily. He got one arm around my waist, but I broke his grip in a similar, practiced maneuver.
Then I started to lose. I could feel Blake getting the upper hand strike after strike before—
My mouth parted, and I started to sing. Low and soft, a melody I’d danced to often enough.
It made Blake trip, just enough that I arched the ribbons again, wrapping around his wrists as I spun and pulledhard, yanking him down to his knees.
