Chapter 23 #3
I snatched it up and reset my stance, and then I attacked again. Faster this time. Segolayne’s drills hammered through my mind as I slashed low, then high, pivoting exactly the way she’d taught me.
For half a second, I thought I’d actually managed to corner him.
Then he simply leaned back. Just leaned. The blade missed him by less than an inch.
“These lessons might be a waste of time after all.”
“I’ve been training just over two weeks!”
“And yet you seem to have picked up nothing at all. You’re sloppy, uncoordinated, and you have no instinct.”
I hated him.
Gods, I hated him.
I circled the mat. He didn't even bother to turn as I moved behind him.
“I'm not a killer,” I breathed. “Not like you.”
My words landed. A long beat passed.
“Perhaps Aedric had the right idea after all,” he said evenly. “Perhaps it really is in everyone’s best interest to lock you in a cell.” A muscle ticked in his cheek.
I froze. He knew. Somehow, he knew what had happened to me at Solmire.
My breaths came fast and uneven, my hand trembling around the dagger.
Beneath my skin, my magic reared once more, straining against my control as memory after memory crashed into me—Calantha's ember eye.
The darkness. The searing bite of the collar. Agony. Confusion. Fear...
His expression faltered, just for a moment. His hand lifted to his chest—
My magic lashed out. Every shard of glass littering the floor ripped upward before hurtling toward him in a glittering storm.
For the first time, surprise flashed across his face. He twisted away, one arm flying up to shield himself as the glass shrieked through the air around him. It was the opening I'd been waiting for.
I drove into him with every ounce of strength I had.
At last, he lost his footing. A fierce thrill shot through me as he crashed onto the mat beneath me.
I was on him before he could recover, one palm braced against his chest to keep him pinned while I drove the dagger toward his ribs, the dulled point hovering over his heart.
For one savage, glorious heartbeat, I had him.
Glass glittered in his hair. Thin cuts scored his face and throat, narrow trails of blood streaking over his cheekbones and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
For the briefest instant, I thought I saw something flash in his eyes.
Approval.
Gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“You cheated,” he said calmly. I felt the words vibrate beneath my hand.
Breathless, furious, exhilarated, I bared my teeth at him. “You never said I couldn’t.” The dagger stayed fixed against his chest. “Do you yield?”
A low sound rumbled in his throat as his gaze darted briefly to the blade poised over his heart. But he didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes lifted slowly back to mine.
“Would you actually be capable of it? If our lives weren't tethered?” he asked, enunciating each word like a challenge. “Would you be strong enough, right now, to drive that blade through my ribs and into my heart?”
The question struck me like cold water. My focus wavered.
It was all he needed. His legs tightened around mine.
The world flipped. One second I was above him—the next he’d reversed us completely, trapping me beneath him before I could even comprehend how it had happened. His weight drove me into the mat, his body a wall of solid muscle.
The dagger was gone from my hand, its blunted edge now resting lightly against my throat.
I blinked up at him, disoriented.
Too close.
Gods, he was too close.
I tried to turn my head away from him, but the tip of the dagger pressed faintly into my skin in warning, forcing me still. Forcing me to keep looking up at him.
“Do you yield?” he asked softly. Mocking me with my own words.
The bond between us tightened painfully. My magic stirred eagerly, coiling beneath my skin, drawn to the terrible, deadly power lurking beneath his. The faint glow spread through my veins, brightening with each racing heartbeat.
The silver flecks in his eyes flared in answer. His gaze hardened. He pulled away suddenly and I scrambled backward across the mat, desperate to put distance between us.
He glowered at me, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “We’re done for today.” Blood ran along his forearm from the latticework of shallow cuts the flying glass had sliced into his skin. The sight of it—of his blood dripping slowly toward his elbow—filled me with vicious satisfaction.
Until he pointed toward the bow resting abandoned on the terrace.
“Tomorrow.”
The single word carried enough promise—and warning—to sour my triumph instantly.
Before I could argue, he turned away. Three strides later, shadows swallowed him whole. Unlike Aedric, who skelded in circles of roaring flame, Rìan simply dissolved into darkness until there was nothing left of him at all.
Only silence remained. A gull cried somewhere beyond the terrace, wheeling over the bay.
Breathing hard, I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet, brushing at my clothes for any slivers that might have caught in the fabric during the fight. Nothing fell.
Only then did I realize that despite the hail of glass, not a single shard had touched me.
The floor was spotless. Every last piece was gone.