Chapter Nine #2
“Perhaps,” Yenna says. “But more so, to keep him under watchful eye. No prison could hold that one.”
“Why not?”
Yenna lets the silence fall even longer this time. When she finally speaks, she doesn’t turn from stirring her pot. “Best eat those muffins before they get cold.”
I eat in silence, regretting my words. It seems I’d finally found some friends, and then I’d gone and ruined it.
Not a big surprise, given that social graces aren’t exactly my strong suit.
What is a surprise is how much it stings.
I’d thought I long ago gave up trying to have normal connections with anyone, but clearly there’s a part of me that still craves it.
When I’m done eating, I get up and look around to see which way I should leave.
Carmeline comes over and directs me toward a door on my left.
We travel down a long narrow passage. I begin to hear the sound of voices, which gradually increases to a loud hum that echoes into the enclosed space.
The dining hall, clearly. I take in a deep breath and steel myself.
Carmeline pauses a few feet from the door. “Don’t feel bad,” she says. At first, I think she means about the cacophony of noise I’m about to be subjected to, but then she adds, “None of us like to talk about him, is all. He’s a traitor. We try to forget he’s even here.”
“You mean, his parents are traitors.” It’s a statement and a question both.
She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I doubt the seed that falls from the tree is any less dark.”
I don’t quite know how to respond to this. Somehow it seems very unjust, but then, the guy doesn’t exactly seem innocent. I’d sensed it myself. Darkness, danger.
So why is it I somehow feel the need to defend him?
I force the thought from my head, and Carmeline surprises me by reaching out and taking my hand. “You’re welcome in the kitchen anytime,” she says. “Us humans have to stick together.”
She smiles that bright smile of hers, and I feel a strange swell of emotion at this unexpected kindness. “I appreciate that.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, she hikes her skirt up and hurries back to the kitchen.
I turn to face my fate, walking forward and pushing through the door into the dining hall. I’ve not traveled ten paces when I see Professor Julian cutting through the crowd toward me. His face looks slightly stricken.
“Embyr, there you are!” He stops in front of me, his eyes searching me up and down as if I could be injured. “Where have you been?”
I decide truth is the best option. “I went to one of the gardens. And on my way back, I ran into the kitchen staff, and they fed me breakfast.”
He looks puzzled. “Why didn’t they bring you here? Were they pressing you for gossip?”
I wave my hands. “No, no. It was my fault, I didn’t want to…” I sigh. “I’m not accustomed to being around this many people.”
His expression lightens somewhat, seemingly mollified. “I understand. But you’ll need to go get changed. Breakfast is almost over, and sparring starts soon.”
“Sparring?”
“Yes…until we figure out why you are so valuable to our enemies, you’re to begin training with the other students here.”
I shake my head. “Training to become a Guardian?”
“Well, no… only fae can become Guardians. But we hope that exposing you to magic and sparring and all the other things we do here will… shed some light on things.”
“On what things?”
“Well, we don’t know yet. And that’s exactly what we need to figure out. No better way than to put you to the test, so to speak.”
“So, I’m going to jump into classes with students that have been here for years already?”
“No, of course not.” He looks taken aback. “You’ll be in classes with the first-year trainees, who are about five years your junior.” He says this as if it makes the whole preposterous idea any better at all.
“And you realize I’ve never done anything except work as a blacksmith, right? I know nothing of magic or… well, as far as sparring goes, I can’t say I haven’t been in a bar brawl or two…”
Professor Julian surprises me by letting out a low chuckle. “Well, maybe you can teach the other students a thing or two, then.”
“But—”
“Gielle will take you to the sparring room and get you fitted properly.” He raises his hand and makes a gesture, and a few moments later my least favorite fae strides up. “Gielle, please get Embyr ready for sparring, and show her around to all the first-year classes today.”
Gielle’s face twists as if his words are sour. But a moment later she nods. “Of course, Professor.”
He turns, melting into the crowd of trainees rising from their tables for their first classes.
Gielle doesn’t say a word to me, but spins on her heel and does her best job to lose me in the rush of people.
I manage to stick on her tail, barely, as we pass out of the dining hall and down the main corridor.
We travel all the way to the other side of the castle, and when Gielle shoves open the doors to the outside I catch her glance of disappointment when she sees I’m still behind her.
She leads us twenty paces, past the turn off to the stables and down a set of shallow steps to the next building.
It’s nearly as large as the castle itself, but only three stories high instead of five.
Once inside, we pass into another hallway.
Doors on each side reveal glimpses of rooms that hold weapons or are set up for practice, cleared of furniture and set with target dummies.
We cross nearly to the far side of the building before turning into the last room on the left.
A dozen trainees are scattered about the room, all in various states of undress.
I pause for a moment, surprised, before following at Gielle’s heels to a large trunk that contains sparring attire.
Without looking at me, she starts digging through it, and straightens a few moments later with a leather vest that looks like it’s been made for a child.
“Try this one.”
“I don’t think that’s going to fit,” I say with a raised brow, looking down at my generous curves. Gielle may be thin and straight as a whip, but I most certainly am not.
She rolls her eyes. “Just try it. They’re supposed to be tight.”
I pause for another moment before sighing and stripping off my tunic.
I feel exposed, standing there in nothing but my brassiere in front of a roomful of strangers, but then, it’s not as if it’s the first time I’ve been naked in front of someone.
If Gielle thinks she’s going to embarrass me, I won’t give her the satisfaction.
Taking the vest out of her hands, I slide my arms through it and attempt to lace it up the front as I see the others doing, but it won’t come within three inches of closing.
“Gielle, I told you, it’s not going to—”
“Here!” she snaps. She steps forward and tries to wedge me into it like a corset, which only serves to shove my breasts practically halfway up my throat.
It’s at that moment Toryn strides up, looking radiant and sun-kissed like an ancient god. “Do you need some help?”
His golden eyes are pinned on me, but Gielle takes his offer as directed at her. “Well, not sure what you can do about this!” She waves a hand at me as if this is somehow my fault.
To his immense credit, his eyes don’t drop to my overspilling chest once. “That’s clearly the wrong size,” he says, tone serious, but with a hint of mirth in his eyes, which are still locked on mine.
He turns to the chest and pulls out a much more reasonably sized vest, which he hands to me as I shimmy out of the other one. It fits perfectly—snug but not suffocating.
“Good,” he says, appraising me. “You need to be able to move around freely.”
Another turn, and this time he claps loudly and his voice booms across the room. “Trainees to the field!” Gielle and the others flood out through open doors at the back of the room.
I blink, confused. “Are you—”
He smiles back at me and gestures for me to follow him. “I’m the sparring captain for the first years.”
“I’ve never done this before,” I say hastily. I don’t know why I’m suddenly aflutter with nerves because he’s leading the drills. Well, perhaps because I’m about to spar with actual fae who are vastly better at this than I am. “So, maybe, take it easy on me.”
“On the contrary,” he says with a smirk. “You have a few years of training to make up for. But don’t worry, no weapons today at least. Just hand-to-hand.”
My heart plummets as I follow him through the doors out into the sun.
Wisps of gray clouds move across the sky, silvering the light.
The practice field is a massive stretch of trim green grass that sits alongside the building.
Gardens and paths line it on the far side, and the river sits beyond.
I can see two bridges arcing over the water.
“Pair up!” Toryn calls to the group. I look around, feeling awkward and mortified at the idea of some first year having to spar with me. But my horror only grows when Toryn flicks his fingers to beckon me. “You’re with me, Embyr.”
I approach him warily.
He grins. “You look like you’re walking to the gallows. Relax. I don’t bite. Much.”
Goddess. He’s not going to make this easy on me, is he?
“Today we’re going to review proper arm blocks and also leg sweeps,” he calls across the field. “This is Embyr. She’s new here, though you all probably already know that since gossip travels faster than the river around here. We’ll be demonstrating.”
Toryn turns to face me. “Try and hit me.”
I shake my head. An excuse forms on my lips, but I know it’s going to drag things out and make this even more miserable than it already is. And I hadn’t lied to Professor Julian about my history in a brawl or two. Or five.
So, I leap forward and come at Toryn with everything I’ve got, feigning to the left and then coming right, slamming my fist into his cheekbone.
Or, almost slamming my fist into his cheekbone.
He sidesteps, barely missing my blow, and I have the satisfaction of seeing his shocked expression just a moment before he ducks back around, kicks my legs out from under me, and slams me to the ground.
The wind whooshes out of my lungs, but the grass is springy and soft, so I’m more surprised than anything.
After a moment’s pause, he offers me his hand and helps me to my feet. “That was an excellent attempt for a brand-new trainee,” he calls to the crowd. “And notice the sidestep and foot sweep combo I utilized. Repeat this exercise with your partners. Take turns attacking and defending.”
Toryn stands with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the pairs for several minutes, calling instructions here and there. Then he turns back to me. “Alright, your turn to block.”
“How?”
“Somehow I feel you have better experience than you’re letting on.” He smiles. “But I’ll show you the basic blocks.”
He moves behind me and reaches around, then pulls my arms up into position. I am very aware of the heat of his body against mine, his breath tickling my ear. He really is entirely too handsome to be a teacher, especially of sparring. I doubt any of his students can pay attention.
“Focus, Embyr,” he says, a slight purr in his voice as if he can sense my thoughts.
We move through several blocks, Toryn pulling my arms into position alongside his own.
Then he moves back around in front of me.
“Okay, try again. Block the same way I just showed you.” Sweat forms along my spine as we continue drilling on the movements.
Minutes pass, but instead of growing tired, I feel invigorated.
When my muscles are heated like this, I forget the pain that plagues them.
“Okay, and now leg sweeps. Watch.” He shows me a few times, pretending, but on the fifth or sixth time, he actually drops me to the ground. After he helps me up, he says, “You try now.”
I go at him with everything I’ve got once again, and he easily sidesteps and then drops me with his own leg swipe.
This time, he follows me to the ground, pinning me under him as he straddles my hips.
His eyes meet mine, and he holds me there a moment before letting me back up.
Then he’s all smiles again. “That was good. You’re a quick learner. ”
My chest feels tight, my cheeks hot, and I can’t tell if I’m mad or turned on.
As Toryn turns to bark instructions at the other trainees, I take a moment to wipe the grass off my clothes and out of my hair.
As I stand there, I feel a prickle up the back of my neck.
I turn toward the river, and for a moment I don’t see anything.
But then, in the shadows of a tree, I catch sight of a lone figure.
I’m not sure how, but even from this distance, I can tell it’s Daemon. It’s something in the posture, in the way he holds himself.
And his eyes are unmistakably locked on mine.
As I watch, he turns and strides away, leaving me to wonder why the traitor of Aureon is watching me, and why I’m certain, despite what everyone keeps telling me about his inability to leave the castle grounds, that he’s the one who brought me here.
The question, of course, is why?