Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
THE COMMANDER
“ T his is insane,” Nadya’s voice reverberated through the training room as she threw her bearded ax halfway across the room, only to have it deflected by Geryll’s shield with a metallic bang that threw him off balance.
The Huntress arrival in our fortress seemed to have rattled everyone, including my two wards.
“So you’ve said.” I jutted my chin at the red mark in the center of the wooden training room. “Again. Aim the ax higher or lower next time. If your opponent has to reach up or crouch to defend themselves, they might lose their balance and you can strike.”
Nadya nodded, but the pinched expression on her face only tightened.
She strutted forward and picked up her ax, which she’d nicknamed Francisca the day I’d gifted it to her; since then, she’d adorned the dark wooden handle with strange animals that haunted her dreams.
Strikingly romantic for a girl whose sneers could make some of my biggest and toughest warriors hesitate.
Geryll had named his shield Warcleaver.
I suspected as a way to draw more confidence on the battlefield neither of them had seen yet. While Nadya was sharpening her blades waiting for the day to come, Geryll was starting to display a quiet resignation at being a warrior. Yet he refused any and all other paths for his future.
Out of pride or stubbornness. Or both.
“You need to bend your knees more when you deflect.” I nodded at Geryll, who nodded attentively, as he always did. “Keep them locked and straight and a blow will send you flying back. Try again.”
They both gripped their weapons tighter, bowing toward each other.
It was almost like they were looking in a skewed mirror.
Both dressed in dark leather trimmed with fur armor worn only around our parts, Geryll had a few inches of height on Nadya, but she had built more muscle.
He’d started shaving his hair off completely like me, while she preferred to only shave the sides of her hair, a thick blonde braid falling down to her waist.
Both orphans under my protection, but under very different circumstances.
Durym, Geryll’s father, had been one of my best lieutenants, taken too soon from us by an unknown disease which had eaten his stomach and liver. All the healers had been able to do was numb his pain enough that Durym could speak and plead with his dying breath that I take care of his son.
Nadya had been found less than a year later by the scouts patrolling the rim of our crater, lost, hungry, and so close to feral I feared she might take a bite out of them. Geryll, in his quiet, unassuming way, had been the first one to make her talk, and they’d been inseparable since.
Brother and Sister in the Blood Brotherhood.
Almost twins at eighteen years old, with only a few short months between them.
At least we suspected.
As fierce as Nadya wanted to be, her eyes turned unfocused and glazed over in the rare occasions she’d talked about her upbringing.
An orphan all her life, she’d been raised in the freezing monk temples just outside Frostfall Reach, the Clan’s impenetrable stronghold, where snow was water, roots were food, and praying to the old gods was mandatory.
Nadya had refused to step foot in any temple or take part in a ceremony, religious or not, since she’d left that place, instead channeling whatever fury she’d accumulated in those long years through fighting.
And right now, she wanted to kick Geryll’s ass harder than usual.
Nadya flung Francisca at his feet, so close to the floor, I was sure the blade would impale the wooden planks.
Instead, it raced through the air, heading straight for his ankles. Luckily, Geryll was quick. He heaved Warcleaver and jumped, narrowly avoiding the blade. The ax impaled itself in the wall behind him with an unforgiving thump.
A thick sheen of sweat gathered on both their foreheads, their heavy breathing a testament to their dedication.
“Good.” I uncrossed my arms and gave them both a curt nod, something I’d come to realize they cherished after each successful training session.
I was barely seven years older than them, but they looked at me for guidance and praise, like a true big brother.
They all did.
When I’d inherited the fortress throne, I’d agreed to take on its responsibilities as well, both savory and not.
“That’s enough for today, you both need your rest,” I said as Geryll fought to place his shield back onto the weapon rack.
After what had happened at Sanctua Sirena, we needed to be ready for everything.
“If the First Daughter doesn’t kill us in our sleep.” Nadya yanked her ax out of the wall and twirled it into her belt. “She might be killing someone as we speak. She’s more dangerous than those trolls you keep telling us about.”
My eyes sparked as a smirk pulled at the corner of my lips. “No, she’s too busy arguing with Sylvester at the moment.”
And it sounded like an argument nobody wanted to have. Especially my raven, who barely tolerated anyone other than me and, occasionally, Geryll. But I’d asked him to watch over The Huntress, so he did. He’d probably sulk and nip at my hair when he returned, though.
Sylvester was temperamental.
“That does not sound safe,” Geryll said. “Perhaps Nadya’s right. You could have left some guards in the hallways if she’s so dangerous.”
That would have defeated the purpose.
I wanted to see what that mind of hers concocted without having to avoid my many, many, many guards. I’d seen her in the maze, I already knew she was a flighty, sneaky thing when she wanted to.
But what would she do when she was weak and desperate? That’s when someone’s true colors showed.
With the hearing the ritual had given me, I listened to her race down the halls, barefoot and stubborn as when I’d left her over an hour ago.
But The Huntress was a crafty one. She’d found the staircase leading to the roof. I’d had to send Sylvester after her, in case that stubbornness bordered on hardheadedness and she decided to take her chances against gravity.
I truly didn’t put anything past her–except senseless murder.
She could have tried to kill me in the maze.
She hadn’t.
She didn’t seem to have the bloodlust some Clan heirs prided themselves on.
I also didn’t want her to feel like she’d woken up in a prison.
As much as I despised the arranged marriage contract and wished the contract to burn with the power of ten thousand stars, I couldn’t ignore the very real, very troubling possibility that The Huntress might spend more time in my fortress than I’d anticipated.
With her Clan falling apart, we couldn’t even have one of those royal marriages, where each person ruled their own city and saw each other for weddings and funerals.
That future sounded even grimmer than the one where I had to watch my back for her inevitable scheming.
Neither option was appealing, though. My mother had always warned me to marry for love, not politics.
Your heart is too big, Ry. Be careful who you let see it , her tender voice whispered in my ear as clear today as it had been more than ten years ago.
And here I was, feeling like I was spitting on her grave. Again.
“The Huntress can barely stand,” I said instead. “Until she’s rested and had some food, she will be no threat to anyone.”
“What about those dangerous powers of hers?” Nadya asked.
“She’s too depleted.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth.
I suspected there was something very wrong with The Huntress’ powers. Except for the protective ward at the wedding, she hadn’t used them at all during the attack. And I had been able to freeze her body with the barest effort.
I’d anticipated facing a blue storm as soon as she woke.
Chairs flying my way.
Being flailed alive.
But I’d seen the fear in her green eyes. It had tugged at my soul in a way it shouldn’t have.
I was supposed to just check she was breathing, tell her the new room was ready, and leave. But she’d stood there, looking completely powerless and undefeated at the same time, and I couldn’t help but stare at this unbelievable creature which had woken up in my lands.
Like a goddess of revenge risen from her eternal slumber.
Then she had attacked me .
Yet here I was, feeling guilty, more than an hour later, like I hadn’t crushed men for lesser offenses.
Because I’d deserved it.
She’d lost her father, her crown, and her home in a few short days.
In my fortress, I was the hero protecting everyone and our magic against the Northern Clans.
For The Huntress, I was the villain she’d woken up to after her life crumbled.
I’d keep playing my part–for the good of the Blood Brotherhood.
She was still the enemy Clan’s de facto heir, as far as the Blood Brotherhood was concerned, no matter which pasty-faced uncle stole the throne from under her.
This Huntress was toying with my conscience and we’d barely exchanged a few words, all of them sharp and trained.
Judging from the way she was currently thundering down the stairs, another argument was coming.
Soon.
The damn woman could command attention just by walking. At least my attention.
She had probably realized there truly was no way out of my city–not one a stranger could find, in any case.
Good.
She had no business going back to Aquila while her uncle was spreading lies about her.
Future wife or not, no Clan member who’d defended her people so fiercely deserved being attacked like that. And by her own family.
“What if she’s pretending?” Geryll asked, looking torn between my apparent indifference and Nadya’s mighty scowl.
“Then I’ll make her tell the truth,” I said. “Through any means necessary.”
“Great.” Nadya patted her ax. “I’ve always thought the no-torture rule was exaggerated.”
My gaze narrowed on her. “The rules aren’t changing just because we have a guest.”
“A bothersome, dangerous–”
“ Oh, Commander ,” The Huntress’ voice reverberated through the halls.
We all stilled, my eyes narrowing on the door.
I’d expected rage.
Maybe more red eyes that refused to cry.
Not this light, almost teasing tone haunting my fortress.