Chapter 38 #2
“No.” Fenric said too quickly, too eagerly, already trying to sit up. “I’ll spar with you. Definitely. I need a break from these violent females before they actually kill me.”
I shifted my weight, letting him up. “Aw, is the big strong warrior afraid of getting his ass handed to him by a woman half his size?”
“Yes,” Fenric said immediately, climbing to his feet and brushing dirt from his training leathers. “Absolutely terrified. You’re both menaces to society.”
Shaelith’s laugh was pure wickedness from across the yard. “Smart man.”
Fenric and Varyth moved to the centre of the training yard, and I found myself drifting toward where Darian now sat with Eilrys tucked in his lap, Linc was settled on the weapons rack, and Brynelle was sprawled comfortably on the ground.
The moment I was close enough, Darian’s eyes slid to mine, russet brown gone absolutely alight with amusement.
He knew something.
“What?” I asked, dropping down beside him.
“Nothing.” His grin was one that could start wars. “Absolutely nothing. Just... enjoying the show.”
Shaelith abandoned her spot across the yard, crossing to where we sat with that predatory grace she wore like a second skin. Without a word, she settled between Brynelle’s legs, leaning back until her wife’s chin found her shoulder with a casual intimacy that sent a pang through my chest.
“This should be good,” Shaelith murmured, eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like bloodlust.
I glanced at her, then at the others. Linc’s grin spread wider by the second. Eilrys twisted in Darian’s lap, both of them watching the centre of the yard with rapt attention.
“What am I missing?” I asked.
Lira sniggered. “Oh, nothing. Just... watch.”
Varyth and Fenric were squaring off. They moved through the opening forms, the ritual dance of sizing each other up, testing reach and speed and intention. Standard. Professional.
Then Varyth struck.
The first blow came so fast I almost missed it. A vicious strike aimed at Fenric’s ribs that would have cracked bone if it had landed. Fenric barely got his blade up in time, the impact sending him staggering back three steps.
“Fuck,” Fenric breathed.
Varyth didn’t wait. Didn’t even give him a heartbeat to recover. He pressed forward with a combination that was pure brutality, each strike flowing into the next. No wasted movement. No mercy. Just pure, focused violence dressed up in flawless technique.
His face was perfectly blank. Which somehow made it worse.
“Is he—” I started.
“Oh, he’s pissed,” Linc said, still grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week. “Absolutely furious.”
Varyth drove Fenric back another five steps, his blade carving through the air with enough force to make the steel sing.
A blow aimed at Fenric’s throat—pulled at the last second to slam against his shoulder instead.
Another to his ribs. Another that would have taken his knee out if Fenric hadn’t twisted away fast enough.
“About what?” I demanded. “Did something happen?”
When I looked around, every single one of them was staring at me.
Darian’s smirk had gone absolutely feral.
Brynelle was biting her lip so hard I was worried she’d draw blood.
Even Shaelith looked amused, which was concerning given that Shaelith’s version of entertainment usually included someone losing a limb or their dignity or both.
“What?” I snapped.
No one answered me.
In the yard, Varyth landed a blow to Fenric’s shoulder that sent him spinning. Fenric scrambled to recover, bringing his blade up just in time to catch the next strike. The impact jarred through both of them, steel shrieking in protest.
“Stars above,” Fenric panted, sweat dripping down his temples. “What the fuck did I do to you?”
Varyth’s grip on his sword tightened. That was the only answer he gave.
Then he attacked again.
This time he went low, aiming for Fenric’s legs with a strike that was meant to hurt. Fenric jumped back, boots skidding in the dirt, barely maintaining his balance as he scrambled to keep distance between them.
It wasn’t working.
Varyth was on him like a storm given form, like wrath wrapped in silk and steel. Each strike was more brutal than the last, and there was something almost personal about it.
He was systematically dismantling Fenric, finding every gap in his defence, exploiting every weakness, herding him back and back and back until Fenric’s shoulders were nearly against the wall and there was nowhere left to run.
“Okay,” Fenric gasped, arms shaking with the effort of blocking, blade trembling. “Okay, I’m sorry for whatever I—”
Varyth swept his legs.
Fenric went down hard, blade flying from his grip to clatter across the stones. Before he could even think about getting up, Varyth’s boot found his chest, pinning him to the ground with enough force to drive the air from his lungs in a pained grunt.
For one long, breathless moment, Varyth stood over him, blade raised, breathing steady despite the exertion. His expression was carved from ice. Perfect control.
Except for his eyes.
They were burning.
“You yield?” His voice was soft. Deadly.
“Yes,” Fenric wheezed. “Fuck yes, I yield.”
Varyth released Fenric, stepping back with that eerie stillness that meant he was either perfectly calm or contemplating murder.
Fenric scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his training leathers like dignity could be restored through small, pointless gestures. “Right. Well. That was educational.”
“Glad to be of service,” Varyth said, empty of anything resembling actual gladness.
Darian’s grin spread wider, a slash of pure mischief across his face. Then he opened his mouth and called out loud enough for the entire yard to hear. “So Varyth, does that mean you’re warmed up enough to spar with Isara next?”
The silence that followed could have suffocated gods.
My fist connected with Darian’s shoulder before conscious thought caught up.
Hard enough to make him grunt, to knock him sideways into Eilrys, who immediately clamped a hand over his mouth with the kind of exhaustion that confirmed this wasn’t the first time she’d had to physically restrain her mate from starting fires he couldn’t put out.
“Ow—fuck—” Darian’s protest was muffled beneath Eilrys’ palm, his eyes shining with suppressed laughter even as he rubbed his shoulder.
Varyth was staring at me from across the training yard with an expression I couldn’t parse. Couldn’t name. Something sharp and hungry that made every hair on my body stand at attention.
I was not enjoying whatever the fuck had everyone so worked up. Not enjoying the knowing looks, the grins, the way they were all watching us like we were the main event at some sadistic entertainment they’d paid good money to see.
“I’ll spar if you want,” I said, the words coming out hard, like I was daring him to refuse. “Unless you’re too tired after destroying Fenric’s will to live.”
Fenric made an offended noise from where he’d collapsed on the ground. “I can hear you.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
Varyth’s jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he might refuse. Might turn and walk away and spare us both whatever this was building toward.
Then, “Hand to hand?”
Every smart part of my brain screamed to say no.
“Sure.” The word tasted like recklessness and poor life choices. “Hand to hand.”
Varyth’s eyes flashed—something dark and molten that sent heat racing down my spine. “Alright then.”
He moved to the centre of the yard with that lethal grace, shedding his training jacket in one fluid motion. The shirt beneath was already damp with sweat from his earlier devastation of Fenric, clinging to every line of muscle and sinew like a second skin.
I was going to murder Darian.
Slowly.
With witnesses.
“This is going to be good,” Linc stage-whispered to absolutely no one, earning himself am elbow from Lira that he completely ignored.
I stalked toward Varyth, every step feeling like walking toward either salvation or damnation. The line between them so blurred I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.
He watched me approach, perfectly still, tracking my movement like I was prey and he was deciding the best angle of attack.
“Rules?” I asked, stopping just outside striking distance.
His lips curved, a ghost of something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Don’t permanently damage anything I’ll need later.”
“Good,” I said, rolling my shoulders back like I was preparing for actual combat instead of whatever the fuck this was about to become. “So your brain and balls are fair game then.”
The words hung in the air for exactly one heartbeat before Darian’s laughter exploded across the yard—loud, delighted, absolutely unhinged. Shaelith made a choking sound that might have been an attempt to swallow her own amusement. Even Linc looked like he was restraining himself from chuckling.
Varyth’s expression started at shock, ghosted through outrage, and then settled into something far more dangerous.
“Is that so?”
“Seemed important to clarify the parameters.” I kept my voice light, casual, like I hadn’t just said something that made the air between us go taut and hungry. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally damage something irreplaceable.”
“How thoughtful.”
Behind me, I could feel the weight of everyone’s attention. They were absolutely eating this up like it was the best entertainment they’d had all week.
I’d strangle them all later.
For now, I circled left, testing his stance. He mirrored my movement, perfectly balanced, perfectly controlled. Always so fucking controlled.
“I’ve been looking for you this week,” I said, because apparently my mouth had decided to stage a coup against my better judgment.
He was tension wrapped in skin, every line of his body suddenly wary. “Have you?”
The question landed like a trap. Like he was already braced for whatever came next, already building walls I couldn’t see but could feel pressing against the space between us.
“Why?”