Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Iwoke well before the sun rose, my body practically humming with anticipation as I quietly dressed in a pair of black cotton pants that hugged my legs and a loose viridian shirt.
I kept my movements light and near silent so as not to wake Rena, the girl could be an outright hellion if she was awoken before she needed to be.
Tying my smooth black hair back, it swished down to my waist as I walked out to the field in front of the barracks. No one was up quite this early, besides a few guards that patrolled the grounds, but they hardly glanced in my direction as I began to stretch out my sleep-laden muscles.
I relished the burn that ached deep in them, my eyes closing as I went through a variety of warm up exercises.
I had been too focused on my studies and worries of the quest since I had arrived for my trials that I had hardly given much thought to exercise or training.
A mistake certainly, if the burn in my legs and lungs was any indicator, as I began to run the perimeter of the field.
I didn't mind the pain, in fact I reveled in it as I pushed myself harder, faster.
Felt the smile that tugged at my lips as I shoved past the moments I wanted to lay in the cool grass and go no further.
I had learned in my training with Bran that pushing past my breaking points was my favorite thing in all the work we did.
Five more push-ups when my arms felt like giving out beneath me, half a mile more when my legs shook and my stomach threatened to upheave all the contents.
The human body astounded me, but it was the mind that I truly admired.
If I set my mind to something, even when my body was ready to give out, I could accomplish anything.
That was how the Kinslayer found me as the sun finally began to rise, the dawn casting an ethereal glow upon my flushed, tan skin. Hair stuck to my sweaty face as I pulled my body up to my knees, breathing heavily through the crunches.
"How long have you been out here?"
Pausing as my back met the prickly grass once more, I lifted myself up onto my forearms and pondered the question. ”Maybe an hour or two?"
He raised a brow, but offered out a hand, sending a shock of surprise through me at the gesture.
Placing my hand in his, he pulled me swiftly to my feet, as if I were light as a feather.
His hand was large, nearly engulfing my own and I could feel the callouses he had built with years of training.
Stomach clenching slightly, I stepped back, eyes avoiding him for a moment as I took a breath, my lungs still burning from the workout.
"I haven't seen you out here before," he spoke casually, no hint of the usual arrogance or condescension that laced his tone and I eyed him warily.
"I've been a bit busy with studying and the thoughts of going on a month’s long quest with a Solerian Prince and the Captain of the KingsGuard," I said, reaching for the water I had left about a foot away and taking a long pull, the cool liquid soothing its way down my parched throat.
I felt him watching as I drank, that gaze burning me from the inside out as his lips formed that smirk I hated so deeply.
There he was.
His kindness was unusual, uncomfortable. His arrogance I was accustomed to, I expected.
"If you're done with your child's play then," he gestured to the ground I had been laying upon moments ago, "we can begin our actual work."
More people were now milling about, groups of soldiers ran the perimeter of the field in formations, others going through similar core and endurance exercises just as I had been doing.
I had stayed well out of their way and none had bothered me either.
I watched them now, easily able to pick out Bran in a group of men that ran near the far treeline before I let my gaze travel back to Delmar. "Out here, in front of everyone?"
I had never trained like this before, in the presence of so many others. It had only ever been Bran and I out in the quiet forest, a world of our own.
"Scared of an audience?"
The challenge in his tone had a scowl forming, my head whipping towards him. “More worried that I'll embarrass you in front of your recruits, Captain."
I didn't know where that had come from. I was skilled, yes, but something told me that he could lay me out easily.
Perhaps it was the predatory gleam in his eyes or the way his body seemed attuned to its surroundings as if he was built to assess and dispose of any threat.
He might be large, but he moved with a casual grace that I was sure meant he could strike in an instant.
Strength, speed, and precision were a deadly combination.
He shot me a confident grin before leading the way to a sand pit a few yards away, casually grabbing the hem of his black shirt and pulling it up and over his head. I froze, body stiffening imperceptibly as my eyes trailed along the ridges of muscle that flexed and shifted as he moved.
His pale skin was hardened and toned and absolutely covered in golden ink that arced and whirled around those muscles.
Goddess, did this man have any fat on him?
As he turned, tossing his shirt to the side of the sandpit, it gave me a view of his back—a view that had me snapping out of my ogling, my attention fixed on the gruesome scars that littered his skin as I held in a gasp.
It was a mess of angry flesh, healed over but ridged, and looking as if it had once been wickedly painful.
Even over that raised scar tissue there were tattoos in reverence to the Sun Goddess, Soli.
The sight made me instantly ill. His story haunting me, an eerie melody in my mind.
At just eight years of age, Roan Delmar took twenty lashings in repentance.
Hands clenching, I averted my gaze, rolling my neck and stretching out the muscles as he turned back to face me. I didn’t dare mention anything I had seen. For once he wasn't in a foul mood and I had no plans to push him into one with wretched memories.
He waved a hand, gesturing to the middle of the sand. "Show me your form then."
Raising an incredulous brow, I stepped forward and lifted my hands to my face.
Widening my stance, bending slightly at the knees, I placed my right foot a bit ahead of the left.
Turning back to him with a smug expression, I asked, "Are we done with the childish training now? I know how to fight, Delmar."
He approached me, his large hands lowering mine just a fraction of an inch before he squeezed my shoulder. “You're too tense, loosen up. You'll restrict your movement and tire more quickly if you stay all locked up like that."
I shook out my arms and huffed, “It’s a bit hard to relax with you staring at me like that."
A wicked smirk ghosted his lips and I instantly regretted the words.
“How exactly do I stare at you, little menace?
" His voice had dropped to a low and sultry tone that washed over me and left my heart stuttering.
He was teasing me, I knew that, but Nine Hells it was impossible not to have some reaction to that sinful voice.
“Does my presence truly affect you that much? "
The words had heat flushing my cheeks.
It’s not attraction, I chided, they only grow warm with anger.
"You annoy me, if you think you affect me any other way, you'll be sorely mistaken."
He attempted to maintain a neutral expression, despite the laughter that danced in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what I was feeling in that moment.
"Whatever you say, little men—"
My hand shot out, fist cracking against his jaw, before I danced back and away from his reach.
So much for not putting him into a foul mood.
His head had snapped to the side after the impact, but his body hadn't moved an inch. I nearly shit myself when his head slowly straightened, his darkened gaze locked on me. My chin lifted as I shifted from side to side, keeping my steps light and quick.
My smile was innocent, sweet even. “Was that loose enough for you, Captain?"
His eyes narrowed, gaze traveling all the way down my body, as if he truly was assessing my form, before rolling his shoulders back and moving into his own stance. "You're gonna regret that by the time this is over. You got one hit, but you won't get another."
It was a deadly promise and I nearly vibrated with anticipation at the challenge.
We circled for a few heartbeats before I decided it would be better to strike fast and quick, making him go on the defense rather than allowing him the advantage of the offense.
Before I could truly even register what happened, the world spun and I was on my back, the air leaving my lungs in a violent escape as I lay stunned, attempting to choke down oxygen.
Rolling to my stomach, nearly vomiting with the effort, I scrambled to my feet heaving a few deep gasps.
Squinting through the pain, I stared in disbelief as he dusted off his bare shoulder.
Mentally playing through the punch I had sent to his ribs that I was sure had been about to land, he had grabbed my arm while his other hand held firmly at my waist. Then quicker than I had thought humanly possible, he had used my own momentum to simply flip me over his shoulder and slam me into the ground.
Placing my hands upon my knees for a moment, I let the pain in my back and ribs throb through me, before I straightened out and shoved it to the back of my mind. Rolling my shoulders, I raised my hands once more, burning with challenge.
"That fucking hurt," I hissed through clenched teeth before taking another shot at him.
I moved differently now, quicker, my anger sharpening the movements like a blade against stone.
He easily evaded the hit and I shifted back and ducked, grunting in surprise at the speed with which he threw back his own strikes.
He was much faster than Bran.