Chapter 18 #2
Brand made a low sound, not quite a sigh. “Is your own life less worthy of preservation?”
She snapped her gaze to his, unable to form a response. Why did these Demons insist on asking her questions she had no answer to?
He ran his fingers over hers again, where they were clenched, white-knuckled against the dagger’s handle. “We… I… am not asking you to kill without cause. These lessons are to help you learn the necessary skills to keep yourself safe, should there be no one else to do so. Nothing more.”
And wasn’t that exactly what she wanted, to feel like magic was not her only course of action?
“Okay,” she whispered. “Alright. Yes. I… I can do that.”
“I know.” He gifted her with a softer smile, then looked between them a few times. “Hmm. It seems we favor opposite hands. That’ll make this much easier.”
He thrust his arm to the side and golden light swirled up his palm from outstretched fingertips. With a radiant flash, a dagger appeared in his grip.
Lunara gasped, flinching backwards. “How?”
An image of Solyrian graced the bronze hilt, shimmering, its handle like two of the sunstar’s waving rays.
“Only the Realm Ruler and Blessed Imperial have this particular ability.” Brand turned his wrist, light catching on characters she couldn’t decipher running down the center of the blade. “A gift from the Sisters, perhaps.”
“It’s beautiful.” She moved to touch it, but stopped herself just shy of contact. “Is it only this you can conjure?”
Brand flipped the dagger in his hand and closed the distance, dragging the handle along her palm. It was impossibly warm, almost burning, raw power jumping between it and her.
“I can call any weapon I desire. My preference in battle is a greatsword. Lyriat is a dual sword-wielder, which he likes to remind me of. Often.”
Lunara giggled. “I find that very easy to believe.”
Brand bit his lip, as if to stop his answering laughter. She wanted to tell him to let it free—to let her bask in the sound of it—but he blinked and it was gone, his face grim. Serious.
He took a single step away and widened his stance. “I want you to mirror me,” he said, voice low. “Do as I do.”
The rest of the world bled away as Lunara nodded, and they began.
“Don’t fling your blade and lock up when you extend it.”
Brand’s rough fingers ran up her forearm, beneath the wide sleeve of her tunic, and dipped into the crook of her elbow.
“You need to keep this joint engaged, strong. Strength starts up here.”
He squeezed her shoulder with his other hand, then drew a firm line down her bicep.
“These muscles support the ones lower, and so on. Being loose does not mean being out of control. Your actions need to be smooth but secure.”
He pressed himself against her back and wrapped his hand around hers where it held the dagger. “Move with me, feel where I start and stop. Across yourself”—Bending around her, he curled her arm in front of her body—“and out. Again.”
They rocked back and forth like that as he murmured instructions, slicing the blade at an imaginary enemy.
Lunara absorbed none of it.
Just like she hadn’t comprehended the downward slashes, or the reverse grip. Not even the proper way to retrieve the blade from the belt he’d given her to wear—both while they practiced and once they were in Thodelebor.
Bleeding fucking moons. How was she supposed to focus when every part of his massive, unyielding body was aligned with hers, shifting in tandem, cradling her softness against himself?
The little touches. The gravelly cadence of his voice as he patiently instructed her. The way his auburn hair sometimes fluttered out to mix with hers, tickling her face. The sight of his powerful limbs, flexing and stretching with perfect fluidity.
Just give up. Why focus on fighting when you could focus on f—
“That’s it, there you go.”
She almost crumbled to the dirt when his heat left and he rounded her, still swaying back and forth to help her keep rhythm.
“Good, just like that,” he crooned, mirroring her once again. “Now, I want you to picture the way Faldir had you this morning—fist in your face, directly in front you—and I want you to add the next logical attack to this movement.”
Lunara’s body was in some kind of trance, still going through the motions while she tried to decipher his words. “Um…”
She froze when Brand struck out, as if to punch her square in the nose, stopping shy just as Faldir had and holding there. “Take a step back and look at my body position.”
Yes, please.
Lunara coughed as she did what he said, surveying him from head to toe.
“You’re at an advantage, using the hand most don’t. Your attackers won’t expect that and will leave themselves vulnerable because of it.” He pointed at his stomach and ribcage, the other hand still raised. “Faldir spoke true when he said you could have gutted him. See how open this is?”
“Y-yes.”
“Ribs are much harder to navigate. If you hit one—instead of going between—it’ll be a nasty jolt for you and a minor wound for them. Go for the soft parts instead until you improve your aim and accuracy. Throat, gut, groin, and so on.”
Sisters above, she’d never be able to do it.
Brand chuckled. “You will. The mind is excellent at taking control when our life is on the line, as long as it knows what to do ahead of time. That’s why we practice.”
Wonderful. You don’t even know when you’re talking out loud, instead of keeping your bleeding thoughts to yourself.
“The more damage you can do the better. So, I want you to pretend to slash me, and then let your body flow into the next natural attack.”
From her position, Lunara went through the maneuver a few more times to let herself feel what he meant. “Okay, I think I understand.”
“Excellent. Go ahead.”
Lunara moved closer and sucked in a steadying breath. At his nod, her arm swept out and then thrust back in, mimicking a stab to his exposed abdomen.
If it had been real, she’d have skewered him right in the liver after spilling his innards. The thought made her stomach roil, but she swallowed back the bile creeping up her throat. She could do this, if needed. She could.
“Yes, Lunara. Perfect!” He clutched her hand and brought it closer, completely unperturbed by the sharpened end of her dagger being so near him. “That’s it exactly. Right there.”
She tried not to beam at his praise, but…
There. That’s it. Good. Excellent. Perfect.
Those words. They burrowed deep and did things to her she didn’t understand. Heart fluttering, skin warming, bone melting things. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t stop smiling. Stars above, he said them with such conviction that she almost believed it.
Almost.
Brand released her but didn’t step away. “If you let your body do what it already knows to do, if you follow your instincts, you’ll be just fine.”
For once, the flush tingling across her cheeks was not from embarrassment, but excitement.
As for her instincts, they were telling her to toss the weapon and throw her arms around him.
To forget every worry that had consumed her for so long and see what life had to offer outside of them, even temporarily.
It didn’t have to be permanent. Just a fling. A few days of gratification to scratch the itch and then she could hide away wherever she liked.
There’d been a sort of detachment to the way he’d been plastered behind her before, regardless of how her mind had misbehaved throughout. That had been training.
With a gorgeous male who isn’t for you.
Necessary proximity.
To his enormously powerful build—which you should ignore, ignore, ignore.
Now that he was in front of her, so close that Lunara could see the flecks of sparkling rust and green in his hazel eyes, could almost feel the rise and fall of his chest against her own, something shifted between them. Like they’d crossed a line she hadn’t known was there.
The way he was looking at her—lips parted, eyes jumping back and forth between her own, brow furrowed—stole every thought away.
“I—”
Another hand appeared in front of her face. “Practicing staring your enemies to death now?”
Lunara jerked away, blinking, falling right back into the pocket of general mortification in which she tended to live.
Magnus chuckled. “I hate to be the one to tell you witchling, but I don’t think it’s going to work. The Forgotten don’t care how bonny or blue your eyes are—they’ll jump straight into the slashing and eating part.”
Eating! Oh, this just keeps getting better. Sure you’re not ready to get the fuck out of here yet?!
“What? Why are we talking about Forgotten? I thought we were going to a quiet village.”
“Aye, a Thodeleborian village planted right up against a Dread Chasm. Now that I mention it, Forgotten won’t be our problem. It’ll be the dreadbeasts.”
“D-dreadbeasts?” Her voice was little more than a croak. “Those aren’t real.”
Unless there was something the Imperials and Realm Rulers knew that everyone else was blessedly unaware of.
Magnus leaned in. “Sure about that?”
“Mag.” Brand’s voice was low and rumbling, a warning in the single word.
“Ach, away lad. I’m just messing with her. The Forgotten though…” Magnus waggled his eyebrows at her. “Those are definitely real.”
“What the fuck do you need?” Brand hissed through his teeth.
“No fun, I swear.” Magnus’s sigh was heavy as he held up a half-curled parchment. “I’ve just received this.”
At first, Brand didn’t take it. His gaze was locked on her, jaw clenching. Lunara might’ve been worried the aggravation there was meant for her, but when he finally reached out, he snapped the message from his brother’s hand and sent him a searing glare.
Magnus only smirked back.
Smug, ruining bastard.
More like the only one here with any brains whatsoever. You should be thanking him for pulling your head out of your arse.
Brand scanned the missive, lips pursed until he loosed an explosive sigh and looked up. “Scorched leaves, stunted flowering—I don’t know what half of this means.”