10 Nights After Winter Solstice
WEAPON MASTER
Cassia wondered if theMage King had ever imagined an errant circle of Hesperines would turn his armory into their practice room. She doubted anything about this epoch resembled what he and the Changing Queen had envisioned.
Especially their descendant standing there with her fangs out, her hand stinging from impact with her Grace-cousin’s immortal jaw.
“How can your face be that hard?” She watched her split knuckles heal. A new spatter of bloodstains now decorated the red-brown fabric of her battle robe.
Mak was unfazed by the one punch she had managed to land. “You’re getting better.”
“I think you let me hit you.”
“If I ever did such a thing,” he said innocently, “it would be for teaching purposes. You still have the muscle memory of a human. You need to learn to move like a Hesperine and do it intentionally, not only when your immortal reflexes come to your rescue.”
“Thank you for the lesson. Maybe I’ll make it through our next battle without a sword slicing my hip open.”
He gave her an affectionate push toward the bench where Lio and Lyros were watching. “All right, Lio, your turn. Get out here, you overtall, undermuscled scrollworm.”
Lio paused to kiss Cassia’s bloodied knuckles. She watched him tread barefoot onto the leather mats wearing nothing but his Imperial trousers.
He faced Mak, looking down his nose from his bloodborn height. “I gained at least a few new muscles when I broke Flavian’s face this past autumn.”
“You need more muscles than you can get turning that limp rag into your punching bag. Prove you learned something from the times Tendo smashed your face in the dirt.” Mak crossed his arms over his bare chest. He too was sparring in trousers tonight, with everyone’s robes the worse for wear after their battles.
Cassia flopped down onto the bench next to Lyros and picked up Lio’s folded battle robe, examining the damage. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in the fabric and sniff her Grace’s scent like a thorny youngblood. “We really need to see to the mending.”
Lyros’s gaze drifted over Mak. “I’m not in a hurry. Are you?”
Cassia watched Lio’s back as he warmed up with a couple of stretches. He had just the right amount of muscles. “On second thought, sewing doesn’t seem very important in our dangerous circumstances. Clearly, bare-chested training sessions take priority.”
Lyros half grinned, and she was glad. He hadn’t smiled much since Mak had been wounded.
Mak raised his fists, but Lio shook his head. He extended his hand toward their pale adamas weapons, which now hung among the Mage King’s armaments of bronze and iron. Lio’s staff levitated into his grasp. “What I need is a lesson from our weapon master.”
Mak’s teasing humor faded.
“When you set your mind to something,” Lio said, “you don’t do it by halves. You wouldn’t forge weapons without developing a Hesperine combat style to make use of them.”
Mak shifted on his feet.
“He has,” Lyros spoke up. “How do you think I knew how to throw a spear at those Gift Collectors?”
“It’s a work in progress,” Mak said. “It’s not as if I could show the Blood Errant what I was working on and ask for their advice.”
Lio lifted Final Word in both hands. “You can show the Black Roses.”
Mak’s veils slipped, and Cassia felt his grim acceptance. She understood. Just as she must embrace her power, it was time for him to teach them to use their weapons to the fullest, for better or worse.
A look of decision came over his face, and he nodded. “One thing I was able to learn from the Blood Errant is how Gift Collectors use their makeshift weapons. I’m designing our combat style as a defense against the necromancers’ tactics, built on the Hesperine battle arts, with a few tricks from the Ashes thrown in.”
“That sounds brilliant,” Lio said.
Mak gestured to Lio’s staff. “I chose a staff for you because its long reach will help you keep opponents off you while you cast. When wielded well, a quarterstaff like this will let you dominate the space around you. Never underestimate how dangerous a human with a wooden stick can be…”
Lio laughed. “And a Hesperine with an adamas stick…?”
“You have the potential to be a terrifying enemy. But one disadvantage is that it leaves your hands vulnerable, so let’s start with how to hold it properly.” Mak began a patient demonstration, adjusting Lio’s grip.
“He’s a good teacher,” Cassia commented to Lyros.
A fond smile came to his face. “He’s the best trainer the Stand has had since Lyta herself, and he doesn’t even realize it.”
Mak was such a good mentor for Bosko. When would they see him and Zoe again? Cassia longed to wrap her arms around her little Grace-sister right now.
Lyros must have been thinking of the sucklings, too, for he said, “Mak began his Stand training when he was younger than Zoe, you know.”
“Didn’t you?”
Lyros made a face. “No. I was still struggling through my art studies. Or rather, ditching them as often as I could to follow Mak to the gymnasium. Goddess, I was such a little idiot, sweet on him and clueless about why I wanted to punch him so much.”
Cassia laughed, envisioning them as two innocent sucklings full of feelings that were too big for them. “Is that why you started training? Because you didn’t know how to tell your childhood sweetheart you liked him?”
“More or less. But you know, it wasn’t Lyta who taught me how to throw a punch. It was Mak who gave me my first lesson in the battle arts.”
Cassia leaned closer. “I didn’t know that.”
Lyros nodded. “I had failed another attempt at clay modeling. I was so angry. Mak, being Mak, wanted to cheer me up. So he showed me what he had been learning that day. I understood it, and I enjoyed it.”
“And not only because you were sweet on Mak.”
“Yes, I enjoyed the actual training, too. So he kept giving me lessons after his practice sessions. When Lyta noticed how I took to the battle arts, she spoke to my parents about formally training me.”
Mak had now taken Lio’s staff to show him a series of guards, high and low, left and right. His demonstrations made the defensive postures easy for even Cassia to grasp.
“How did Timarete and Astrapas react?” she asked.
“They deemed it a good outlet that would help me concentrate on my studies.” Lyros snorted. “Then they thought my obsession with the battle arts was a youthful phase. I think they were in denial until I told them Mak is my Grace. They finally had to accept I had no aptitude for art whatsoever and that they had no hope of prying me away from my future in the Stand with him.”
Cassia leaned her shoulder against his, shaking her head. “How did you end up in Orthros’s most artistic bloodline?”
“Because of these.” Lyros held out his hands and wiggled his fingers. “You know that when I was an urchin in Namenti, I pickpocketed Basir, and that’s how he and Kumeta found me.”
“And of course, being Hesperines, they repaid your attempt at theft by taking you to safety in Orthros.”
“My parents thought any hands deft enough to pickpocket a Hesperine would be better suited to crafting great works of art.”
“Hmm. But they turned out more suited to breaking noses.”
“As Mak taught me that day.” Lyros gave a huff. “He still keeps that hideous lump of clay in our residence. I can’t convince him to throw it out.”
Mak tossed Lio’s staff back to him so he could practice the guards. As Lio went through them in turn, Mak watched, pausing to correct Lio’s posture here and there.
Cassia wrapped her arms around her knees. “We’ve scarcely had a chance to talk like this since we had to leave Orthros.”
“Not much time for that while trying to stay alive,” Lyros agreed.
Cassia considered her words. The Blood Union was helping her get better at understanding and supporting others. But her new empathic abilities weren’t much help when Lyros was keeping his feelings so close to his chest.
So she tried simply asking. “How are you holding up?”
Lyros put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief hug. “As well as any of us, I suppose.”
“I owe you an apology. I can imagine how you feel watching your careful plan about the weapons fall apart like this. You and Mak had everything under control until my spell gave us away. I know we all share responsibility for what happened, but I want you to know how sorry I am for my part in it.”
“I should have my head examined for agreeing that weapons were a good avowal gift for you and Lio. I’m so deeply sorry for what this has cost you, too.”
“Well, now that we’ve both dissolved into a puddle of apologies, how about a promise? We’ll work together on strategic preparations to keep our Graces out of further trouble.”
There was something hopeless in Lyros’s smile. “A whole lot of good my strategies have done so far.”
Cassia turned her attention away from Lio’s lesson and studied Lyros instead. She saw his devotion in the way he watched Mak. His heartache in the strain at the corners of his mouth and eyes. The tension in his posture. “You’re so in love with everything about him. Even the weapons.”
“It’s hard to protect our Graces when we’re such fools over them.”
“I understand why you supported Mak when he started forging weapons. I’ve thrown all my better judgment to the winds for Lio on plenty of occasions.”
“But that’s not the promise I made when I joined the Stand and when I avowed into his family. Not the vows I made to my Grace. I swore to protect him.”
“You do that every night, Lyros.”
“Not this time. I’m the one who’s supposed to be a good influence when he gets impulsive. But I failed to protect him from himself.”
Cassia frowned, considering. She knew what it was like to pull Lio back from the brink of his power. But together, they were also learning the importance of not fearing everything they were capable of.
“Don’t you think that’s a great deal to take on yourself?” she asked Lyros. “And don’t you think Mak is capable of making his own decisions?”
Lyros’s expression shuttered, his veils tightening. “If you’d seen how things were when we were younger, you would understand. Mak’s relationship with his family, especially his father, has gotten better only recently. There have been so many times when his hot-headedness caused…friction…among Blood Argyros. And now all that progress he made is gone.”
Nothing about Lyros’s tone was unkind, but his words still stung. Perhaps because he wasn’t wrong. She was the newcomer in their Trial circle. And family was one area of diplomacy she was still learning to navigate. Her attempt at encouraging him to confide in her had only resulted in him closing himself off even more.
Mak took up his morning star. Now he went on the attack so Lio could put the defensive staff moves to use. Adamas rang against adamas as they began to practice in earnest.
The tower suddenly felt less like a refuge.
A ball of solidadamas covered in deadly spikes swung toward Lio’s heart.
He brought his staff up as Mak had shown him. The shafts of their weapons collided. The spikes stopped a hand’s breadth from his chest.
“Good block,” Mak said, “but why was it the wrong one to use?”
Lio poured all his strength into holding off his cousin, realizing his mistake with chagrin. “I’ve already let you in too close.”
Mak looked like he could hold this position all day. “Right. This is why a Gift Collector was able to reach you with a dagger. You aren’t making proper use of your staff’s greatest advantage: range.”
The Star of Orthros inched closer. Lio gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms burning. The spikes brushed the hair on his chest.
Mak snatched his weapon away. The force holding Lio back was suddenly gone. He tipped forward into the path of Mak’s next swing.
The Star of Orthros swept past his kneecaps. Mak could have broken his legs if he’d been aiming to. Too late, Lio recovered his footing and dodged backward.
“That was close, but good backup plan.” Mak pressed his advantage, advancing on him.
Lio adjusted his grip closer to his body and swung the end of his staff out. Just as Mak had explained, the small movement of Lio’s hands on one end of his staff rewarded him with a wide motion at the other. The far end of Final Word knocked the Star of Orthros away before Mak could reach Lio.
“Much better,” Mak approved. “Fight like a Hesperine. You’re trying to keep violence at bay, not welcome it into your heart.”
“Yes,” Lio said, his voice far more strained than his cousin’s. “That’s the spirit of your proposal, isn’t it?”
Mak didn’t miss a beat in their fight, attacking Lio from the right this time. But his veils wavered again. “You read it?”
Lio blocked Mak with a right guard. “I told you I would.”
“Even after…everything that’s happened?”
“Especially after that.”
Lio focused on defending himself from Mak’s next several attacks, waiting for his cousin to speak.
“Well,” Mak finally burst out. “What did you think, then?”
“It’s brilliant. The Blood Errant should have brought this before the firstbloods eight hundred years ago. But they didn’t. You’re the first Hesperine who has ever dared.”
“I doubt that makes me braver than them. Just more impulsive, and that’s saying something.”
“If Hespera worshipers had taken the safe path and respected authority, we would have been crushed under the Orders’ heels long ago.”
“You sound like Kia.”
“She’s not wrong, Mak. Orthros has forgotten that heresy is our greatest strength.” Lio saw Mak’s morning star sliding low again and braced himself for the impact.
Mak trapped the end of Lio’s staff between the spikes on his club. “Maybe her mother is right. If we don’t follow some rules, we’re no better than the Orders, throwing our might around for our beliefs.”
Their weapons locked, and they stood in another stalemate. “I’m a diplomat with a weapon in my hands. I’m in no position to philosophize about whether we’re hypocrites or not. But I’m certain of one thing. I trust the warrior who made this weapon.”
Mak closed both hands around the grip of his club and heaved Lio’s staff away.
Lio danced backward under the momentum and just managed to keep the staff balanced in both his hands.
Mak didn’t push forward this time. “Why?”
“You made this weapon for only one reason.”
Mak snorted. “To get us all exiled, apparently.”
“No, you lunkhead. You crafted them out of love.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to philosophize.”
“I’m not. That’s simply a fact. Your love for all of us is evident in every line of that proposal.”
“I want to know what the proposal says,” Cassia spoke up from the sidelines.
Mak let his club dangle from his hand, looking from Lio to their watching Graces.
“So would I,” Lyros said.
“What?” Lio turned to him. “You mean you haven’t read it?”
Lyros shook his head. “I picked up some of it from our Union while Mak was writing it. But he won’t show it to me.”
“Love.” Lio gave Mak a look. “You were trying to protect your Grace.”
Mak sighed. “Fine. I’ll summarize for everyone because if I let Lio explain it, we’ll be here all night. My proposal requests approval from the firstbloods and the Queens for the Stewards to carry weapons. Only the Stewards, mind. I’ll turn in my speires before I let just anyone stroll through Orthros with blades. That would only make our Sanctuary less safe.”
“That’s a good policy,” Cassia said. “The Stewards are rigorously trained and already understand what it means to bear the burden of violence for our people. You have learned to fight with Mercy and proved you will wield weapons with compassion.”
“My proposal also requires the Stewards to be of age, with full rank in the Stand. Trainees shouldn’t have weapons.”
Lio chuckled. “You wrote that line for Bosko, clearly.”
Mak’s gaze fell. “I want him to have the same experience we did, learning how to use his fists for the Goddess, before he ever touches adamas.”
“Tell them about your plan for crafting more weapons,” Lio encouraged.
“They’re to be forged and stored within the Queens’ Ward,” Mak explained, “but on the other side of the Sea of Komne, where Nike’s forge and Waystar already are. In southern Orthros, we can build a forge on one of the islands, like the Armory of Akofo. Stewards can take their arms with them on patrol, but leave them in the armory when off duty.”
“This sounds like a sensible extension of current policy,” Cassia said.
Mak pushed his hair back from his face. “The Stand could also supply Hesperines errant with arms under the First Prince’s supervision. I thought Rudhira might even want a forge at Castra Justa.”
“He’s being modest,” Lio put in. “He outlined suggested changes to Charge Law to make this reform with the lowest risk.”
“The Prince would have to approve them,” Mak replied.
“No doubt he would find it a plan after his own heart,” Lio said.
Cassia nodded. “Rudhira chooses his forces carefully and can judge who should be trusted with armaments.”
Lio took a step closer to Mak, planting his staff on the floor. “Hesperines can be trusted with armaments. For the same reason we can be trusted with immortality. Hespera blessed us—or cursed us—with the ultimate limitation on our power. The Blood Union.”
“Empathy,” Cassia said.
It felt more like a curse in a room full of people Lio loved who were hurting. All their emotions were running high, throbbing out of the raw edges of their flagging veil spells. In the center of it all, Cassia’s unconcealed heart beat. Once the most closed of them all, but now the most open.
When Mak didn’t reply, Lyros broke the silence. “It’s a good proposal.” He paused. “I wish you’d told me.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Mak replied lightly. “Fugitives can’t march into the Firstblood Circle for a cordial policy debate.”
But Lio knew that whether or not the firstbloods ever saw that proposal, it would never cease to matter that Mak had not made Lyros a part of it.