Chapter Thirty-Two
I ’m eating in the mess hall the next morning when he finds me.
“Come on,” Draven orders from behind me. “Let’s go.”
I pause, a bite of bread hovering midway to my mouth. “But I’m eating breakfast.”
Draven arches a brow, heaves a long sigh, then grabs me under the arms and hauls me upright. My bread slips from my fingers, landing back onto my half-filled plate as he drags me forward. I throw a longing glance at it over my shoulder.
Across the table, Marcella elbows Gray. With a mocking swoon, she lilts, “Have fun!”
Gray glances at her and chuckles before offering me a sympathetic look as I’m dragged out by the six-foot-something tyrant.
Draven doesn’t drop my wrist until we’re out of the mess hall, through the winding corridors of the guest wing, and beyond the academy walls. To a place where the hills rise around us and the sound of a soft, trickling stream fills the sun-kissed air.
When he finally lets go and turns to face me, I look at him pointedly.
“What?” he asks, folding his corded arms across his chest, the fabric of his form-fitting, short-sleeve shirt doing nothing to hide the muscles beneath it.
Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve noticed just how defined they truly are.
Which I guess makes sense considering I’ve never seen him in short sleeves before.
It’s also the first time I’ve seen this much of his tattoo.
The intricate design snakes up his arm—from the back of his hand, coiling around his wrist, winding over his forearm, up to his shoulder—disappearing beneath his shirt.
As I study it, I realize that, given the way it’s been inked to his skin, I can’t actually distinguish it as a tattoo or a wielder’s mark.
I wonder if that was intentional, and if so, why…
I brace my hands on my hips. “I tend to at least prefer a nice greeting before being dragged away from my breakfast.”
“Maybe you should have woken up earlier,” he counters.
“Maybe you should have told me you planned to start training first thing this morning.”
He frowns. “When else would we begin? We only have seven days between now and your next test.”
Fair point.
My gaze drifts around the space, and my lips curve at the sight. “This is pretty. It feels secluded, too, being tucked between the hills. It’s nice.”
He follows my gaze, nodding. “I figured you’d like training here. It helps me focus sometimes when I need to get away from the academy.”
His admission catches me by surprise.
“Anyways,” he says. “I did some thinking last night.”
My brow curves up. “We didn’t finish with judgments until the middle of the night,” I point out. “When exactly did you have time for some thinking? Do you not sleep?”
He blows out a clipped noise that is beginning to sound more and more like a laugh. “Sleep finds me when it wants to. And when it doesn’t…” He shrugs. “I think.”
I study him a bit more closely. “Okay,” I reply, the word drawn out. “And what is it you were thinking about so late in the night?”
“You,” he answers matter-of-factly.
A hearth lights beneath my cheeks. “Oh?” I question. “And what about me?”
He makes a show of sighing, and he shoves a hand through his tousled waves. “Why were the Abdites after you? I’ve gone through potential reasons again and again, and it doesn’t make any sense. ”
He begins to pace, and my warm cheeks are quickly doused. I swivel my eyes, following him as he strides back and forth.
“You claim to have recently manifested your magic. You don’t have a wielder’s mark.
You don’t come from any noble heritage or exceptional bloodline like your…
companion .” There is an odd bite to the word as he mentions Gray.
“So, why you?” He stops pacing and squares his shoulders to me as if I might actually have an answer.
But I think he quickly realizes my blank face is as clueless as the empty answers he keeps reaching for. “That’s what I’d like to know,” I mutter.
He bites his lip, brows pulling tight. “There has to be something. Something that made them search for you.”
The way he says it…
My eyes narrow with quiet accusation. “Is that why you goaded the captains into letting you train me? So you can figure out what it is that makes them want me?”
His expression remains unreadable. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t add extra incentive, but… I told you I’d find a way. Your…” he pauses, considering his word choice, “...p eculiar flower simply provided me with the perfect opening.” The corners of his lips tug upwards just slightly.
I click my tongue at the smugness in his tone.
He huffs with pleased amusement.
Draven claps his hands together. “Now, all of that aside, it’s time to get to the reason we’re out here—your training.”
I fill my lungs with a deep pull of crisp air. “Alright. What’s first? Sparring? Magic lessons? Weaponry?”
Draven grunts a low laugh under his breath. “You’re not even remotely ready for that.”
Despite myself, my mouth pops open. “What? I was learning to spar with Gray, and—”
“—and I am not him. I’ll be training you how I see fit.” He turns, surveying the surrounding hills as if looking for something. “Besides,” he continues, glancing at me sidelong, “he coddled you. I assume it’s because he’s your lover, but he does you no favors by not pushing you.”
I choke. “My… what ?”
Draven’s brows lower, and he frowns at me. “Your lover. It was obvious he was going easy—”
“—No, no, I got that part. What I can’t understand is where you got Gray being my lover from?”
“Well, is he not?”
“No,” I say through a choked laugh. “I mean, there was this one night after we both consumed way too much wine where we fooled around, wondering if maybe…” My eyes go distant as I drift into that memory.
It’s hard not to laugh at it now. I shake my head, amusement tugging at my lips.
“Anyway, it was weird, and we both agreed never again.”
“So he’s truly just a friend? The two of you seem closer than that.”
I hesitate, thoughtful. “Gray and I… I’ve never quite known how to define us, honestly. He’s more than a brother to me, and I suppose I do love him as deeply as anyone could ever hope to be loved, as he does me. But there are no romantic feelings between us.”
My heart squeezes as—for once—it considers what it feels for something. For someone.
“If love could ever be reduced to a connection that simply exists between two souls, that is what we are. An unbreakable bond, tethered together, willing to share in all of each other's good and bad.”
Draven’s jaw flexes—subtly, but enough. His gaze drops to the ground. “I understand completely.” Then, without warning, he sucks in a sharp breath. “So, about that training.”
“What in the realms of Kala is the point of this?” I whirl around on Draven, who stands with a smug grin and a curved brow behind me.
He chuckles lowly and lifts a lazy hand. “I’ve already told you. It’s your training.”
I turn back around and blink at the scene. Wedged between two large hills, above a constant stream pouring from a nearby waterfall, is a thick, fallen tree covered in lichen.
I point at it. “And how is crossing that supposed to help me become a better wielder?”
He sighs. “I just explained that to you. There are four key elements to becoming both a skilled combat fighter and a formidable wielder.”
“Yes,” I confirm, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know. Balance, endurance, strength, and control.”
Draven lifts a challenging brow. “Well if you know, then why are you asking me?”
I click my tongue at him. “Because,” I reply. “I thought the things we did would be related to actual combat.”
Draven’s eyes don’t waver. “Who said they’re not?”
I cut him a sharp glare. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I bite down on my growing irritation and resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You know,” I challenge a bit haughtily. “I still don’t know anything about you. How can I even be sure I should trust you to train me?”
“I can make that question easy for you: you shouldn’t.”
I wait for him to crack a smile or huff even the smallest of laughs, but he doesn’t.
“Alright,” I drawl. “Be that as it may, I would feel a hell of a lot better knowing at least something about the person I’m placing the hopes of my future in.
” I pause. “For instance, what kingdom do you come from?”
Draven lifts a dark brow. “Answering questions about myself was never a part of our deal.”
“We can change that,” I bait with a cloying tone. “Perhaps a wager of sorts.”
He huffs a laugh and flicks his peculiar, mismatched eyes to the blood droplet resting on my finger. “I would think you were through with wagers.”
“Consider this an exception.”
He shifts his weight back on his heels and folds his arms. “Alright. What do you propose?”
I hum with thought and pinch my chin between my thumb and index finger. “For every task you give me that I successfully complete, you must answer three questions of my choosing. ”
Draven’s brows shoot up. “Three?”
I nod, reaffirming the number. “Mhm. Three.”
He watches me for a long moment. “Alright,” he replies. “Three questions.” Just when I am about to lift my chin with victory, his low voice counters, “ But if you’re unsuccessful, you have to answer three questions of my choosing.”
My feet guide me forward toward the horizontal tree, and I huff a laugh. “Fine. It’s not like you don’t already know all there is to know about me.”
“I highly doubt that.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, the ghost of an inscrutable smile resting on his lips.
My brows pinch together, but I reorient my gaze forward and bend down to remove my combat boots and socks.
A warm wave floods through me as my bare feet kiss the ground.
I’ve almost forgotten how much I love the feeling.
Carefully, I step up and onto the large, waxy tree trunk.
Draven stops me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Confused, I turn and blink at him. “Uhm, what you told me to do?”