Chapter Thirty-Five

“ Y es. Good. You’re shaping up to be quite the natural sword maiden, just as your mother was.” Patton looks at me with a bright smile and his head canting to the side, seemingly recalling moments from the past. “The flow of these movements suit you. I commend you for your light and fluid stance. You’ve certainly come a long way these past few days. Usually this combination is harder to master.” He then looks toward Gryphon, whose stomps could take down the whole tunnel system. He no longer enjoys the practice sword in his hand.

Patton thinks I fight like my mother. Was she a Fae warrior as well? The statue from the garden flashes in my mind and I know without a doubt my mother has been here, watching over me this whole time as well in the quiet alcove in the garden.

He must’ve known her, trained her even. He’s the best of the best after all. Even Hadeon recognizes Patton’s power and now he’s training me. The realization that Patton, Thaliya, and Baylor all knew my parents and now have waited all this time for me to rise up and stand for everything my parents stood for stokes the small flames of bravery kindling deep within me, just starting to make themselves known.

“Remember though, most of the fighters you come up against will be bigger and stronger than you. Use this to your advantage. You have the power, flexibility, and mobility to strike hard and fast.” He moves to the middle of the stone floor. “Always start your moves from out of range, sliding toward your opponent when you strike, making sure to stay out of close range of your opponent, like this.” His words are booming and succinct and I wonder if those above us can feel the vibration of his words. It’s as if he’s addressing an entire army, not just me. And while it's intimidating for sure, it’s also refreshing to be spoken to in this way, like he knows I understand and will be better for it. Like he knows I’m not a delicate flower that will blow over in the wind.

I nod and continue my slow technique work. The repetition of each striking movement is a soothing part of being down here. Patton has stressed the importance of finding our rhythm within our flow. I’ve yet to master this, but with each strike I practice, I feel my muscles molding to the memory of where they belong with each movement.

Patton turns to where Gryphon continues to stomp and strike. “You’re thinking too hard. Get out of your head, boy.” Patton’s frustration is clear. Gryphon, who held such promise on day one of practice, has fallen significantly behind. He wants it so badly that he’s getting in his own way. “Stay light on your feet. Shorten your stance and for star’s sake stop stomping. It's more of a roll as you place your foot down. Light. On the balls of your feet.”

Gryphon turns toward the stone pillar in frustration and begins unloading his anger on it. His strikes are halted and heavy. Unfortunately, only proving Patton correct.

“Mother’s locked me up in this castle all my life. I’m no better than a spoiled princess.” He turns to me, a small moment breaking through his frustration. “No offense,” he shoots my way with a shrug of his shoulders before he returns to land blow after blow.

“None taken. We’ve got this, together. We have plenty of time to practice along the way. We’ll be safe for a while yet, right?” I turn toward Patton, who looks slightly less confident than I feel.

“This is important. I need to keep us safe.” Gryphon looks pleadingly at his sword and throws it across the room in disgust. The wooden sword clattering loudly across the stone floor and echoing through the tunnels before us.

“I can manage for myself, thank you,” I reply primly, just as a spoiled princess would.

Despite my spoiled princess upbringing and how hard these past few days have been, all of this feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be. Each step of progress I make with the sword in my hand or healing and treating the sick, is my own. I am no longer paying attention to the treks already laid out before me, but creating my own path.

“That’s enough for today, take a break while I grab something.” For someone his size, he gracefully moves to the dark corners of this room.

At Patton’s declaration, Gryphon and I grab our knees, dropping my wooden practice sword to the ground with exhaustion. Patton takes this moment to stride across the room, returning with two long pieces wrapped in cloth. “I thought there would be more ceremony here, but there’s little time for that now.”

Despite his words, he hands each of us one of the cloth wrapped pieces with reverence. “Here are your swords. May they strike swift and true.”

Patton hands each of us a sheathed sword. I draw mine out of the scabbard, watching in awe as the blade sparkles, even in the dim light of our underground training room .

“It's beautiful,” I say with awe, turning it in my hands and trailing my fingers across the intricate details etched into the blade curling all the way down to the tip like a vine.

Patton nods in agreement as I take in the majesty of my sword. My own sword. I never imagined I would see the day, but here it is.

“It’s lighter than I thought it would be,” I say, swiping it through the air back and forth to get the feel of it.

“That doesn’t make it any less deadly,” Gryphon snorts and eagerly does the same with his own.

“Keep up your training. Several times a day. And don’t forget, a true swordsman always names his sword.” Patton stands tall and looks at us as a proud father looks upon his child.

“What should we name them?” I ask, completely taken aback. Who knew swords had names?

“You’ll know. Now, off you go. I’ll see you later tonight.” And with unshed tears shining in his eyes, he turns on his heels. The sentiment is so unlike him, and it moves me to tears as well.

As we step into the hallway energized from our early morning training, a shadow meets us.

Killian strides toward us, clear determination set in his shoulders and a look of frustration burning in his eyes. I exchange a look with Gryphon, communicating both my thanks he suggested we leave our new treasures in the tunnels and a plea for him not to leave me to Killian’s wrath.

“Where have you been? Lysander has been asking after you and no one could find you anywhere.” He sizes up Gryphon, clearly getting the wrong idea. Gryphon grins down at him, but the look Killian gives in return has Gryphon bowing and walking away quickly, mumbling something about the stars and a hornets nest.

“I—” I begin, but he cuts me off before I can even formulate the rest of my sentence.

“I know what you’re doing. And it's not going to work.”

I trip over my own feet while my brain goes into overdrive, trying to figure out how Killian could have figured anything out. And if he’s figured it all out, why is he talking to me about it rather than driving a knife through my heart? How much does he know? I look around, making sure there aren’t an excessive amount of guards lurking in the alcoves we pass waiting to snatch me up and do his bidding. But it’s just the bustling servants who accompany us in the hall.

If he’s talking, I’ll keep him talking.

If I can figure out how much he knows then I can warn the others before he destroys me. We’re still walking down the hallway, and Killian’s hushed voice keeps those bustling around us from noticing the clear danger I’m in. To them, we just appear to be brother and sister—arm in arm—enjoying a stroll. They don’t see my shaking hands or how I try to slow his long strides, but he does. In response, his grip tightens on my elbow so he can pull me along. To everyone surrounding us though, he’s all smiles.

Suddenly, this feels like more than a brother questioning his sister. I’ve watched as he moves his pieces around his maps, mumbling under his breath the strategy he’s working out. Now, I’m no longer his sister, but merely a pawn on a board.

His pace is quick, and he continues dragging me along down the hall toward the gardens. There are less eyes in the gardens. If we make it there, who knows what he’ll do with this anger rolling off him. I don’t have long before I lose the safety of those around us, so I square my shoulders as best I can.

“I’m not sure what you mean, brother.” I try to be coy, managing to get the words out in between strides too long for me. My elbow aches from where he’s pulling. The shaking has subsided, but now I can’t decide if I’m more terrified or angry at him.

“Don’t do that. You don’t play games. Licia is the one to talk me in circles, not you.” His grip tightens and I try not to wince.

“You’re right,” I pause, unsure how much to offer him, but knowing agreeing with him will at least put me on the same side. “I just don’t know what else to do. I’m not used to this, you know. I’ve spent the past ten years on my own, basically. You knew Avicii…” I lead.

Good, yes, the truth. Or at least, a version of it.

“Yes, Avicii couldn’t have been easy to live with. He was my truest friend, but Father had him travel all over the realm. I still don’t know for what. But each time he came back, he was harder somehow.”

My breath catches in my throat as I remember. Remember the feeling of dread when Avicii returned. Would he be the doting husband I thought I married? Or the worst version of himself?

Killian’s grip loosens and he pauses, thrown off guard by my mention of Avicii.

The sun warms my face with our position just inside the doorway to the garden. His features slowly soften, turning from calculating to pensive. There’s the brother I grew up with. I exhale a deep breath, knowing without him speaking that we’re okay for now .

“I know this is all moving quickly, but this will be good for you. This will be a good match. Etos is a land known for its beauty. And Sturdevant is a strong king, like Father. He’s done great things for his people. It’s your turn to do great things for your people.”

I straighten, looking up at him and holding my chin high. Some of his words frighten me. But there’s also truth to them.

It is my turn to do great things for my people. Just maybe not in the way he thinks.

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