Chapter 6
For the rest of the day Beitris told herself that she wasn’t going to give Logan what he wanted.
She wasn’t going to meet him at midnight.
Such a thing was ludicrous, and he was probably tricking her anyway.
She’d turn up in the middle of the night and be all alone.
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Except that she kept thinking about it as the hours passed. She kept thinking about him.
She still found him infuriating. She still found him attractive.
The two extremes clashed in her mind and it left her feeling entirely confused.
There had been a glimpse of his past as well, of his pain, and she wanted to know more about him.
He’d actually taught her something useful as well, and he had refrained from disparaging her weapon of choice.
She tossed and turned in bed. She glanced at the candle, watching the wax melt away, more time passing. The flame was close to reaching the mark for midnight and she cursed under her breath, flinging the bedclothes away and scurrying through the castle.
Beitris continued to shake her head and mutter until she saw him in the middle of the training field. He was a lonely figure, a shadow beneath the stars. His head was arched back and he looked almost peaceful.
As she approached he turned to her. His face was cast in moonlight. His eyes shone silver.
“Ach, ye made it. I dinnae think ye would come. I doubt yer brothers would approve.”
Beitris felt an annoying itch every time she was told that a member of her family would not approve.
“I dinnae seek their approval. I dinnae need it. This is where I belong. I am a warrior,” she said.
“Let us prove it, then,” he replied and drew his sword.
It was long and wide, beautiful and shining when illuminated by the moon.
He held it securely and the way he moved made it seem as though it was a part of him.
He was powerful and precise, and there was a grace to his movements that only a warrior could admire.
Beitris tried to put these thoughts out of her head and remembered what she had learned earlier in the day.
Beitris spread her legs and made sure to keep her weight on her back foot, pushing forward when she wanted to strike, bringing her other hand up to make her defensive stance stronger.
They grunted as they moved about the field, blades clashing, and it wasn’t long before she felt the prickle of sweat upon her skin.
She gritted her teeth, eager to prove herself to him even though his opinion shouldn’t have mattered.
At one point he twisted his wrists and dealt a flurry of blows towards her.
His sword moved at impossible speed and it took everything she had to parry the blows.
Reverberations ran down her arm and she felt the pressure on her wrists.
They threatened to buckle, but she urged herself to maintain her composure.
As the blades crashed against each other she stared between them and saw his eyes, focused and cold, intense and unyielding. The sounds were getting louder and louder until they deafened her. Was she screaming? She couldn’t tell if she was or if the sound was locked in her mind.
Eventually they pushed each other back, staggering away, and they were both panting. Beitris’ hands were stinging, but she dared not let go of her sword.
“Are ye sure ye never received any formal training?” she asked in between heavy breaths. “There’s nae shame if ye were once a part of Warnock’s guard. Ye would nae be the first one we welcomed intae our ranks.”
“I am just a natural with a sword,” he replied.
Beitris wiped sweat from her eyes and stared at him. There was still something that unnerved her about him and made her want to be cautious. He could be aloof and distant.
He rushed towards her, not giving her an opportunity to ask more questions. Her senses became overwhelmed by his masculine scent and the heat of his body that burned in the cold night. Everything else in the world melted away. There was only him and his sword. They consumed all her attention.
They continued fighting until Beitris could take no more. She was exhausted. Sweat coated her skin and her arms felt as though they were going to drop off. Muscles ached, muscles she didn’t even know she had. Every time she inhaled it felt as though daggers were scraping against her lungs.
A waterskin was tossed at her feet. She was too thirsty to be proud. In one motion she picked it up and held it to her lips, drinking deeply.
When she was done, she wiped her lips and tossed it back to Logan. He plucked it out of the air and took a drink himself.
“Why are ye daeing this?” she asked. “Why are ye here with me?”
“I dinnae like the guards making crude comments.”
“But ye dinnae hae tae train me at all. There must be a reason.”
“Would ye believe me if I told ye that I want us tae win, sae it’s in our best interests for ye tae be as well-trained as possible?”
Beitris cocked her head and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity.
“Nae,” she said eventually.
Logan’s tongue darted out quickly as he glanced at his feet.
“Verra well. I would like something from ye. A good word. While I’m glad that Donal hae accepted me as his second I ken there are limits.
I hae nae proven myself in battle yet, nae alongside this army anyway.
But I ken I can dae more. I am better than any other man in this army, and I should be leading them. ”
Understanding came over Beitris’ face. There it was. All men had their ambitions, she supposed.
“Ye want tae be a captain.”
“Aye.”
“Ye ken that there can only be sae many captains, and there are plenty already. In fact, I think there may only be one opening left.”
“Then it should be mine.”
A smile flickered on her face. “Dinnae be sae hasty. That position is mine, or dinnae ye nae think that women should be warriors?”
“My sister was the strongest person I hae ever kenned. She was a warrior. Ye will be good competition.”
“Ye think ye stand a chance against me?”
“Aye, I ken ye are the Laird’s daughter, but I dinnae think ye would want tae win that way, would ye? There’s nae pride in being given something. Ye hae tae earn it.”
“I hae earned everything in my life, and I will nae hae ye interfere with my ambition.”
“And what ambition would that be?” he asked.
Beitris squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“I will be the one tae kill Warnock.”
Logan paused and stared at her strangely. She read the look in his green eyes as doubt and anger flared. It seemed that he did doubt her prowess, despite his words. Beitris leaned forward and glared at him.
“Ye think I am a fool,” she said.
Logan pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nae at all. I’m sure there are many people across the Highlands who hae made the same declaration, yet Warnock still lives.”
“Aye, but that will change when he meets the tip of my arrow. I shall lead men intae battle and finally slay him. I will bring peace tae the Highlands and my name will be passed down in history. Beitris Knox, Peacemaker.” There was an awed tone in her words and a dreamy look in her eyes.
“He will nae make it easy for ye. He hae escaped death many times before.”
“His luck hae tae run out eventually, and I dinnae plan tae give him a way tae escape. I will be a hero of the Highlands, like my father before me, and naething will stop me. I appreciate the training, but I will nae put in a word for ye. I shall be captain,” she said.
With that, she turned on her heels and walked back to the Keep, although it was difficult not to turn her head.
While there was much about Logan that she did not know, there was something that called to her. They spoke the same language—war.
And her heart was racing, but it wasn’t because of her exertions.
Logan watched her leave. The irony was not lost on him. She had openly declared her intentions to kill his father without knowing the truth, while he was plotting to kill her father. Fate liked to have its fun, he supposed.
He and Beitris were mirrors of each other, although her mission was foolhardy. He didn’t believe there was anything that could kill Warnock. The man was too spiteful, too cruel. His hatred kept him alive.
Beitris was going to fail, but he would not.
Beitris wanted to be a hero. Logan wasn’t naive enough to believe he could be anything like that. He only wanted to do one thing, one dark, wretched thing, and when it was over he would be too. Perhaps Beitris would have to be content with killing him.