Chapter Twenty-Nine
“ Y ou sure do love to piss him off,” Henry said, amusement heavy in his voice.
I looked over to him and saw that he was, in fact, smiling ear to ear. I rolled my eyes, not responding as we marched forward, The Elemental practically steaming from his ears behind us, an incredibly stressed Ranbir beside him. I was still bloody, but the kind Healer had patched me up well. Enough so that I was itching to train. If this incident taught me anything, it was that I needed to learn to fight.
We continued in sweet silence for all of ten seconds before the demon spoke once more. “So do you want to talk about it?”
Yes. No. Both. I had no idea which was the correct answer, but staying quiet felt like a safe option.
Henry allowed me that space to sort through my head, a place I did not want to be, let alone subject another to. Truthfully, I was being generous by not discussing my feelings. I doubted Henry would enjoy the dark turn they had taken.
When we reached the double doors that led outside, I let out a sigh of relief. The grass was dewy under the morning light, a sign of the quickly approaching winter. A chill blasted through the air, and those holes in my top did little to combat the cold. Apparently, I lost Bellamy’s cloak while I had my ass handed to me.
I ignored the discomfort, eager to learn all that I could from Henry.
At the center of the grassy lawn in front of Bellamy’s manor, Henry stopped, pivoting to face me.
“Are you sure you can do this after, you know, all of that?” he asked.
There was a sincerity in his voice that made me miss the humor and snarky attitude he normally possessed. Rather than give that very attitude back to him and risk being left without a trainer, I simply nodded.
The demon eyed me for a while longer, judging for himself if I was fit to learn. Whatever he saw must have placated him, because he returned the nod and began going through what he called the “fundamentals of combat.”
“Being smaller than your attacker does not mean you cannot beat them.”
“Arm strength means nothing if you have no core strength.”
“Your technique, such as stance and balance, will make or break you.”
On and on he explained to me what it took to become a warrior.
“This is not something you will learn in one day, but it is something that you can hone as you practice. Dedication is imperative to the process, to keeping yourself alive in the face of danger.” I nodded again, this time in understanding. I could do it.
Then we began.
Hours later I had decided I could not, in fact, do it.
Every part of my body ached from the exercises, slicing through me and shredding my already flimsy muscles. I had dry-heaved multiple times, each occurrence ending with Henry disappearing in a ray of light, just to return with water or food. I swallowed the liquid in a single gulp no matter how many times he brought me another, devouring the food just as quickly. After the third time I ate, I actually vomited.
By the time we got to fighting stances, I was already unsteady on my feet, my legs wobbling at the strain of keeping my body upright. How did they all do this daily? How did they survive it?
“This is lunacy,” I said between the sharp pains in my side. Henry laughed, a full sound that made me think of a time when I was far more carefree. Something I would never be again.
Shaking my head to rid myself of that tragic thought, I flipped my hair over my shoulder. Henry tracked my movement, then left in a flash of white.
I waited impatiently for his return, going through the two stances he had taught me, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
“It seems my body is far superior to yours, it breathes on its own without my assistance,” I had said when he told me I needed to think about my breathing. His laughs were the only response until he scolded me for not doing it correctly later.
I had angrily replied to his corrections by saying, “Perhaps you are doing it wrong, and my lungs are simply better.”
With a heavy sigh, I switched to the first position, breathing deeply, channeling myself—whatever that meant.
The puff of white beside me was the only sign of Henry’s return as he came up behind me on silent feet, and then the smell of cinnamon and smoke hit my nose.
Bellamy’s ringed fingers grazed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I swatted his hand away, glaring over my shoulder at him. He flashed a smirk that did not quite bring out his dimples and held up a black band.
“Henry thought you could use some help with that unruly hair of yours,” he said, his shoulders lifting and falling quickly, the epitome of casualness. A lie if I had ever heard one.
“Interesting ruse, but I am fine without your aid, thank you,” I responded, once again pushing away his hand. He merely rotated his finger, signaling me to face forward. I huffed, but did as I was told. Honestly, my hair was becoming a hinderance.
Bellamy tugged his fingers through the locks, attempting to detangle the mess of caked blood and thick knots. After a painful few minutes of the demon prince combing through my hair, he finally finished.
Instead of putting my hair into the leather band and being done with it, Bellamy began softly massaging my head. Ecstasy rushed through me, that throbbing pain I had been ignoring finally easing up at his touch. When he felt satisfied with his work, the prince began braiding my hair back, his fingers skilled in more ways than I had previously fantasized.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his words as much of a caress as his fingers on my skin.
I loathed the way he affected me. How he made me want to share my thoughts and feelings, to trust in him. I forced myself not to speak, because even a crack in the dam was enough to bring the entire structure crashing down. I could not handle the flood of emotion right now.
Bellamy finished, my hair in a plait ending at my lower back. He brushed his fingers down the side of my neck before straightening the braid out. Quickly, I moved out of his reach, needing space between us to break myself from his spell.
“I am fine, just forget about it,” I finally said.
“I cannot forget about it, Asher. In my mind I see their faces, two of my close companions, and I wish they were alive. Not because I regret what I did, but so I can slowly torture them. So I can make them feel my wrath,” he seethed. I turned to face him, immediately locking onto his icy blue gaze. “Does that scare you, Princess?”
Subconsciously, I knew that his anger was likely due to the two demons risking his investment, his weapon. He had worked for who knew how long to obtain me, and in mere seconds, it all could have been for nothing. Yet, I could not help myself from wishing he had ulterior motives. Personal ones.
I was foolish.
“So, what next, pumpkin head?” I asked Henry, promptly ignoring the prince’s question. We needed to get back to the purpose of being out in the freezing cold.
“We can continue to go over stances if you would like,” the demon said with a laugh.
Dare I say he was getting fond of me? I smiled back, noticing Bellamy tense beside him, eyeing the two of us. Admittedly, it was rather juvenile of me to revel in his jealousy, but I did nonetheless.
I resumed with the two stances Henry had previously demonstrated for me, adding in a third once those were up to the demon’s satisfaction. After Henry aided me with my legs when I struggled to get the new one just right, I saw Bellamy’s jaw tick and his fists bunch.
Oh, he was not enjoying what he was seeing one bit.
When Henry seemed ready to end our session, an idea came to mind. Either incredibly brilliant or ridiculously stupid. Regardless, I wanted to test it out.
“Actually, can I watch you two spar for a moment?” I asked, trying to conjure a tone sweet enough that they would agree.
Not much was required in the end, because Bellamy did not hesitate to say yes, Henry’s eager smile telling me he did not need to think twice either.
The two demons faced one another, Henry’s height allowing him to smirk down at Bellamy—highlighting the two or three inches he had on The Elemental. Yet, Bellamy was not without his own advantages. The sheer build of him far surpassed Henry.
“Do not go crying on me when you lose,” Henry said, shaking out his hands as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
Bellamy did not look remotely phased by the statement, an eerie smile splitting his lips and baring his teeth. He flicked his head to the left then the right, cracks echoing into the air. Then, as if he could sense me watching, his eyes met mine.
“There is only one thing I fear losing,” he said to Henry, gaze still locked on me. Henry groaned, clearly uninterested in Bellamy’s shameless flirting.
This win is for you, Princess of mine.
Then he was moving, ducking Henry’s blow that should have knocked him to the ground, possibly even knocked him out.
I stood there, eyes wide, as the two of them fought. First with fists, trading and dodging blows. Then they added weapons, looking for all the world as though they were dancing, the clashing of their swords a beat like no other. The ballad of battle.
I focused, pushing my power towards them. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to become one with their thoughts, bringing each of their strategies to me in real time. Never had I tried something such as this before, but to my surprise, it worked.
My mind flooded with their thoughts, techniques, and maneuvers. Relaxing my body, I attempted to become them, using it all as a blueprint for the warrior I might become if only given the chance. With little to no thought, my arms and legs started to move, a dance of my own. No part of me doubted that I was Bellamy. I was Henry. In this moment I was the two of them combined. A deadly weapon prepared to fight back, to end lives instead of always being the life at risk.
I heard the males stop their play fighting, felt their eyes land on me. And it was not until their final thought of fighting dissipated that I too snapped out of my sort of trance. I opened my eyes to find them both staring at me as if I had sprouted horns atop my head.
My hands flung to my hair, checking just in case. Thankfully, I was still hornless.
“What?” I asked, every part of my body aching and crying out. I would need to sit down soon.
“Did you just use your magic to do that?” Henry asked, astonished. I had thought it was a fairly ludicrous idea, but not impossible. Based on the way the two of them gawked at me, I figured it had not been a plausible option in their heads until now.
“My power, yes,” I answered, my eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. I thought I heard Henry whisper “incredible” under his breath, but Bellamy clapped his hands together, a smile that reached his eyes and brought out his dimples plastered on his face.
Curiously, the two seemed to have very different reactions to me. Henry was in awe, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Surprise, that was what was written on his face, what I could sense now from him.
Bellamy though, he was not surprised, he was…proud, elated. What I felt from him was similar to a high, as if he had been the one to accomplish the task. He was not blocking me, in fact he was projecting. Over and over again he played the vision of me a moment ago.
I had my eyes closed and my mouth slightly open. My braid was whipping around with every turn, every slice. It was not a long sequence, but the furrow of my brow and the heaving of my chest had Bellamy enamored.
Some part of what I did fueled that already large ego of his, though I was unsure why. I meant to ask as much, but he spoke before I could.
“We leave in five days, Princess. Train up.”