17. Oh, if only she really knew #2
Drills had been one thing; they held my interest. But the leisurely pace of our stroll left a little to be desired.
“He’ll add that to my list of highly desirable attributes, I’m sure, just beneath my incredible sense of humor and above the pert shape of my ass.”
The mage coughed and patted his chest with a gloved hand. “Yes,” he rasped with a chuckle. “I’m sure he will. Now, do you remember the main barracks hall I pointed out? On the edge of the garrison?”
I turned my attention back to the gatehouse and border wall down the path, ever growing as we neared. Squinting, I slowly said, “I think so…”
“Good. That’s where our training supplies are. I’ll meet you there.”
In the second it took for my head to whip to the side, all that was left of the mage was a dark swirl clinging to the air.
My jaw slackened.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
As the day warmed and the sun broke through the cloud cover, some of the morning’s humidity had dissipated, but not as much as I’d hoped, so I found a patch of shade beneath the overhang of the barracks hall roof to settle under.
I was honest when I told the mage I didn’t need to take a break after our first round of drills, but, good goddess, more water might’ve been a good idea.
The skin tied to my hip was empty, and while the rest of that walk—alone—hadn’t been exactly taxing, I was sure I’d sweated my weight at least once over.
Unfortunately, a cursory sweep around the area yielded no wells or pumps, so I waited. And waited. And waited.
The stone windowsill had enough of a ledge that I could sit on it, and the side of the building I’d picked clearly wasn’t a high-traffic area, so it could’ve been worse.
A few dark fae, both Umbrite men and women, and some I couldn’t place, strolled by, all in matching uniforms, casting me looks that sat somewhere between displeased and confused.
Maybe word had spread that the blonde-haired anomaly their king had bound himself to had actually passed the Agon Ferr initiation.
I waited out there for long enough that I doubted my recollection of which building the main barracks hall sat in.
But just as I pushed off the ledge and my boots thudded onto the earth, Jasper came sweeping around the corner.
If a man with only the lower half of his face exposed could look exasperated, he certainly did.
“Can I help with any of that, or…?” I had to restrain my amusement as he sailed right past me, balancing an armload of training weapons and goddess knew what else.
“Just the first gate down there,” he called back with the strained addition of, “please.”
I kicked up a bit of dirt as I scrambled after him and around the back of the building to where a lengthy fence taller than myself stretched on, broken up by a handful of closed gates.
The half-rusted metal latch only gave a slight protest as I flipped it over and pushed open the panels, clearing the way for Jasper and his bounty.
At least the inside of a training arena was a welcome and familiar sight, even if I was used to ones hewn into dove-gray mountainsides.
After dumping everything rather unceremoniously to the side and re-latching the gate, Jasper approached me with two sets of bracers in his hands, extending one to me. “Get geared up, and we’ll start.”
I looked at the bracers—simple leather wraps with a reinforced piece that extended over the wrist and back of the hand—and my brows drew together. The mage was already putting his own on top of the gloves he was never without, and I couldn’t help but glance over at the pile of goods he’d brought.
Not a single breastplate or backplate.
No pauldrons or greaves, leather or not.
Not even a damned helmet.
What gearing up meant in Grimmoria was a world away from what it meant at home.
“So, what are we starting with then?” I asked as I slipped on the bracers and made quick work of the closure. “Does Maksym just want to see how quickly I can put you on your ass, or…?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to see that.” Jasper shook his hooded head as he ambled back to the pile of weaponry. “Catch.”
I didn’t even blink, and a quarterstaff was hurtling in my direction.
A string of curses tumbled out of me, and I caught the projectile before it took my goddess-damned head off. It was a training staff, sure, but it still packed a considerable amount of weight.
“Oh,” I chuckled as I tossed the staff from hand to hand, “this is how it’s going to be?”
Jasper tossed me the widest smile I’d seen from him so far, gripping his own staff at an angle in front of him. “It is. Are you ready, Miss Wynn?”
Clearly to prove a point, I’d barely opened my mouth to goad him, and the mage came at me faster than my eyes could process. I had a split second to decide if I wanted to position my staff as protection and risk going down, or anchor my body and have a chance at staying upright.
Jasper’s staff collided with my fingers, just beyond where the reinforced bracer protected my first knuckles, and my damned face, but I held every inch of my hastily guarded ground.
“Fucker,” I hissed as I shoved him back.
Jasper sank back a lazy step, as if the force of my weight did nothing, and didn’t give me any reprieve before he came at me again.
The mage and I moved through a violent dance of blows, blocks, and dodges for a goddess-damned eternity, made infinitely more infuriating by how I couldn’t tell where he was looking.
The bracers Jasper had equipped me with did little to stave off the misery that rattled through my bones every time his quarterstaff collided with my knuckles, either.
Or my wrists. Or my knees, elbows, and shoulders. My face, too.
To my dismay, that was often the case with the unnatural speed the mage moved with.