Chapter 23
The next day, I woke up filled with grief and longing. I’d had my recurring dream again, memories of my lost mother singing to me swirling through my mind. It haunted me. I had to get through the Culling and the Raveling, and somehow win that boon.
Blake didn’t show for training, leaving Jace to lead us alone.
It didn’t matter that the Ambush Master wasn’t there; I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. It was making my movements worse, like I was going backward instead of forward.
Though I could tell Jace went easier on me without Blake ready to bark over his shoulder, I still felt Blake’s presence like a hand around my throat.
After dinner, when Edith asked me to sing her something, as she often did, I remembered the song from my dream:
“Born of passion and the silencing queen,
A light shall rise where none have been.
Through her, the dawn will banish night,
If the dragon’s heart grants her might.
Should the hollow one consume her power,
Darkness will reign in the final hour.
Let the serpent’s heir stand by her side
And storms shall rage and kingdoms die.”
After the last pure note died away, Edith was staring at me, her eyes glistening with emotion. “That’s an old ballad. Where did you learn it?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know myself.
—
I treasured our evenings when Nelly and Thyme curled up nearby. Sometimes Calla or Quinn came, too. Being with them was the only time I felt sure of myself anymore, the only place I knew I was needed.
But that night, I couldn’t sleep.
You are nothing but a danger to the Silvers, the Azures—and to the tygress queen.
His voice rang perpetually in my head.
I didn’t want to stew in my misery alone in my rooms. The frustration that I couldn’t access what little magic I had was taking a toll, and I could hardly wield any weapon more than passably well.
My memories, everything I’d lost, were my dream, not to mention our common need to fight the looming threat of the demon invasion, but I felt hopeless.
Was it worth it to forfeit my life for this?
I slipped out to the empty training fields.
The stars stretched cold and sharp overhead, the sprouting grass cool and damp under my bare feet.
I shivered, then activated Blake’s heat glyph.
I stood still beneath the stars and breathed in the cold night air, the scent of things beginning to grow, and centered myself.
Unrolling the long ribbons from my wands, I let them fall loose between my fingers.
Then I began to move.
It wasn’t the polished dance I had once performed.
This was something raw. Fierce. Filled with fire and stubborn, aching passion.
Every movement burned through me, my body carving sharp arcs and sweeping turns through the dark.
The ribbons snapped and rippled in the air, alive with the rhythm of my anger, my longing, my refusal to break.
The despair still rose up, heavy and choking.
I would never be good enough. Not for Flame, who deserved a rider of her own strength. Not for the Azures, with their effortless power. Not for the Silvers, cold and perfect in their deadly precision. I wasn’t enough for anyone. Not even myself.
And beneath it all, the deeper hurt: a life stolen from me, a past I couldn’t touch, a future that felt like a lie.
My dancing grew faster, fiercer, stronger. My body moved like a flame in the wind, wild and furious and barely under control. I poured everything into the ribbons: the rage, the sorrow, the loneliness.
Then I caught the faintest shift in the air behind me.
I turned sharply, the ribbons whipping through the dark, and saw him.
Blake stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the field, silent and steady, as if he had been there the whole time. His blue eyes locked onto mine, unreadable.
The ribbons fell limp in my hands.
Blake stood unmoving, the moonlight limning his hair. His arms were loose at his sides, but there was a tension in him, a quiet stillness I hadn’t seen before. His eyes traced the fallen ribbons, then me, as if trying to fit what he had just seen into the version of me he had already decided on.
“Why don’t you fight the way you dance?” he asked finally, his voice low, rougher than usual.
I shrugged. “The weapons are a lot heavier.”
His laugh surprised me so much that I jumped. That dimple appeared in his left cheek, making him look infuriatingly handsome.
“Where were you today?” I asked, swallowing tightly. I didn’t expect an answer, if anything just a quick None of your business.
Instead, he sighed. “In the villages.” His mouth opened again like he wanted to add more, but he stopped. He looked like something heavy on his shoulders was weighing him down, more than the scuffed armor he still wore now.
“You look tired,” I said. When he gazed at me thoughtfully instead of biting my head off, I raised an eyebrow. “Tired of being the big, terrifying Twin Blade? Or tired of pretending you like it?”
He went still for half a breath. “Both,” he admitted quietly. “Some days more than others.”
The honesty caught me off guard. For a moment, it was just him and me, two people trying and failing to hide how much weight we carried.
“Did something bad happen?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away, staring down at his boots and across at my bare feet on the grass. The moonlight caught the angles of his face, throwing deep shadows beneath his eyes.
“Innocent people died,” he said finally, his voice rough with something like regret. “People who shouldn’t have.”
“Was it the Ravager?” I asked.
I’d heard rumors that the king was hunting the Ravager, the Azure rebel leader, with great intensity.
Rebel raids were occurring increasingly often, personalized by the seal of the Ravager—a jagged iron lightning bolt—left behind in wax.
Every day, some of the Tyger Warriors rotated out for duties instead of training, and Blake had been gone all day.
He didn’t answer. Now he looked bloodied, broken and barely able to stand due to exhaustion.
“When I saw you dancing, it was as if I caught a glimpse of clear sky after a long, dark storm,” he said suddenly, before ducking his head. I could just spot the shade of pink high in his cheeks, as if the words had slipped out on their own.
“It’s the one thing I’m good at.”
Blake shook his head. “No. It’s not.” The softly spoken words shook me for a moment, but before I could respond, he said, “I want to show you something.”
My throat tightened as he stood and began removing the heavy metal outer layer of his armor. The stars burned bright and cold above us, but as I stood there, the night felt warmer than it should have.
This was a different Blake Axefire beneath the stars. And he was far more dangerous than the one who tried to break me.
He removed a thundervein blade and carefully placed it atop his other things in a pile. “Is it hard to carry the title without him?” I asked, my voice soft. “What is it like being the remaining Twin Blade?”
Shaking his head, he ran a hand through sweat-damp hair. He glanced up then, and for a second, there was no mask on his face at all. “Like my hands will never be clean again.” His twisted smile was a hollow, broken thing.
“Come here, Rubi,” he said, and my name felt different then on his mouth. Perhaps it was the moonlight making everything feel more charged, but something felt right. Balanced.
Intense.
I stepped forward, feeling less intimidated as he stood now in only his underlying black warrior clothes, similar in style to our training garb.
“What?”
“I want you to try and fight me with the ribbons.”
“But you said—”
“Forget what I said,” he murmured, so close I could easily reach out and touch him. “I’m a scorchhole, right?”
My cheeks flamed, but I nodded with a quick gulp. “Right.”
He stepped back, spreading his feet and sinking into a slight squat that made his thighs bulge against the fabric of his pants. Hands lifted, he made a come on motion toward me.
I snaked out my ribbons, letting them loose at my side.
We moved slowly at first, my ribbons whipping out as I warmed up to using them like a weapon and not a dancing tool. I nearly tripped.
Blake shook his head. “No. Don’t overthink it. Just treat it like you would dancing.” It was a soft command this time.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the sound of the breeze, the soft grass beneath my feet. I swept my hands up and down, snapping the ribbons out.
“Again.”
I opened my eyes. He came at me more fiercely, still unarmed but powerful and so much bigger than me. He had strength on his side, but I had speed.
I managed to get one of my ribbons around his wrist, but he unwrapped it easily. He got one arm around my waist, but I broke his grip in a similar, practiced maneuver.
Then I started to lose. I could feel Blake getting the upper hand strike after strike before—
My mouth parted, and I started to sing. Low and soft, a melody I’d danced to often enough.
It made Blake trip, just enough that I arched the ribbons again, wrapping around his wrists as I spun and pulled hard, yanking him down to his knees.
He tried to get out, but I pulled them tighter, managing with my stance to drag him closer to me. On his knees, awash in the moonlight.
Lips parting, he heaved out a breath and looked up at me, something like relief and liberation bursting out of him. His head was tilted back, a bright grin on his face, dimple appearing—all the darkness that had been in his eyes, now gone.
What took its place made my belly tighten and warm.
“A true Tyger Warrior,” he whispered, and my heart gave an extra squeeze. “I shouldn’t have said what I did yesterday. I was frustrated, and you— Anyway, it was cruel and unhelpful.”
I nodded. “Very cruel and unhelpful. As bad as killing my chicken.”
His full lips quirked as he shook his head. “Flame should be proud to have you as her rider.”
I am, dear one. Males are always so slow to catch up.
The warmth of her rumbling voice in my head mixed with the heat of his body so close to mine made my entire body unfurl, muscles relaxing after weeks’ worth of tension. I unwrapped the ribbons from his wrists, our breath mingling as I bent close to him.
Hands freed, he made as if to reach for me, then caught himself. “Get some rest, Rubi. There is much more to learn and so little time.”
—
A few days later, heavy trunks arrived at the door. There was a note, written in a bold hand.
I understand this cannot compensate for the chicken.
For a long moment, none of us moved. Then Nelly let out a small squeak of excitement and darted forward, tugging at one of the latches. “Oh, lady, it’s almost as if you might have an admirer, despite both your unladylike tendencies and failure as a warrior.”
When I opened the first one, I just stood there, frozen.
Thyme leaned in over my shoulder and let out a low whistle.
Inside were layers of fine clothing, far beyond anything I had ever owned.
The fabrics gleamed under the faint light: deep velvets, supple leathers, thick woven wools, all stitched beautifully.
They came in the colors of every jewel: rich red, deep green, midnight blue, black trimmed with gold thread.
The scent of cedar and clean linen rose up as I sifted through them.
When our hut was destroyed, Edith and I had each received a trunk with some sturdy serviceable garments as replacements. This was something else.
There was a modest, floor-length shapeless nightgown made of thick cotton. I picked it up, snorted, and immediately gave it to Nelly, who clutched it to her chest like it was the greatest treasure in the world.
As I lifted out a thick, fur-lined cloak, Edith ran her hands over the wool. She gave me a sharp glance. “Rubi, what have you gotten yourself into?”
I shook my head.
This meant nothing. To Blake Axefire, the cost was negligible. I swallowed hard and closed the trunk.
If only I could close the door to my heart the same way.