Chapter 20
Nikator pushed open one of the exits and pulled her along.
They entered an unfamiliar, brightly lit corridor packed with mages, whose emerald and silver robes fluttered behind them with their hurried steps.
Biyu tightened her hold on Nikator’s hand without meaning to and inched closer to him, her gaze flicking over the various unacquainted faces.
The last time she had been with a mage, she had been kicking and screaming as they held her down and drew her blood—for the wards, according to Yat-sen. They terrified her.
He squeezed her hand gently, almost like he was reassuring her, but his expression was as impassive as ever.
Biyu tried memorizing the path as they went left, right, and down a staircase, but the winding halls were too similar for her to discern where they were or which direction they had just come from. Maybe it was on purpose.
Most of the mages ignored them, but a few nodded at Nikator, noting their joined hands, but saying nothing. She thought maybe he’d be embarrassed to be holding her like this, but he made no move to release her. Was he holding her in case she tried to run, or did he simply want to hold hands?
His hands were rough and calloused. Signs of a man who had worked his whole life. Or simply used weapons too often.
She glanced down at the thin scars crisscrossing over his fingers and the top of his hand.
They were faint, old, and she was reminded once more of when he had stripped his shirt off and showcased the various scars and burns over his body.
He had been in many battles before, she could tell, and she wondered what that felt like.
Being a warrior. Fighting, killing, injuring yourself.
She certainly wasn’t cut out for that life. Just this—trying to be sneaky, using spells, and getting herself into the thick of trouble—was paralyzing enough for her. She didn’t want to go to battle.
“What are you thinking? You’ve got this look on your face like you’re confused.”
“What? I’m not—” Her cheeks warmed. “I’m not confused about anything.”
“Really?” He stretched out the word so it sounded even more disbelieving.
“Well, maybe. I just don’t know where you’re taking me, and why.”
Nikator lifted an eyebrow and amusement flashed over his annoyingly handsome face. “So you are confused.”
“I don’t like the way you’re saying it. Like I don’t know anything.”
“I never said that.”
“I can read between the lines, you know.” She gave him a pointed look, which earned her a crooked smile.
When they reached a pair of double doors, unmanned and without any guards in sight, Nikator slowed in his trek.
Biyu had never been to this part of the palace so she had no clue what to expect.
They had probably left the mage quarters, judging by the lack of mages, but they must have still been in the inner palace since the banners of the Drakkon dynasty were more abundant in these halls.
He finally freed her and pushed one of the doors and held it open for her.
Sunlight filtered through the opening and she stepped forward; it was as if she stepped into a thick fog of sweltering, summer heat.
Sand crunched beneath her feet as she entered an empty courtyard with weapons stacked on one of the far walls, worn-out and sun-faded target dummies scattered about with daggers and arrows still sticking out of them, and a single shaded area on the far right.
Most notable was that there were absolutely no windows in sight; even though the large yard was walled in by the palace, there was no way to enter or see into it other than the entrance she had just passed through.
For secrecy’s sake, perhaps?
Biyu stopped at the center, squinting at the training area. “Is this where you and the rest of the Peccata train?”
“Yes. This one and the indoor training room. You saw that one, remember?” He kicked the door closed and went over to the dummies, dragging them away to the shaded area where the rest of the weapons were.
He yanked out the weapons stuck to the dolls and clucked his tongue.
“Minos must have been the last to use this space, because he never cleans up after himself.”
“And you do?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back and doing a small twirl to see the rest of the space. She had no idea why he’d brought her here, but it made her feel … relaxed, for once. Because there were no prying eyes and she was outside.
Nikator snorted. “Do you think of me as a slob?”
“I don’t know you that well.”
“Well, I like to keep things tidy. Surprising, I know.” He went over to another dummy and pulled it to the side as well. “I’m not as meticulous as Atreus is, but I try.”
Atreus was tidy; Minos was messy. She tucked that piece of info deep in her mind just in case she ever needed it. Though she doubted that would be useful to Yat-sen and their plan.
A thin sheen of sweat was already forming on her skin and she fanned her face with her hands. It was much too humid to be out here. “What are we doing out here?”
“We’re going to spar.”
Biyu’s eyebrows shot up. “We? As in, you and me?”
An amused grin curled his lips. “Yes. Us. Me, and you.”
“Sparring?” She must have heard wrong, because there was no way she was going to spar with him—a trained warrior.
She was just … Biyu. A pampered princess who didn’t know anything about weapons.
The last time she had used a sharp blade was when she had swung her paring knife at Yat-sen.
And that had been a knife used for fruits, for heaven’s sake.
“Yes, a spar. Have you never sparred before?”
“Never.”
“There’s a first for everything.”
Nikator dropped down in front of a chest and rifled through it. His long red hair trailed down his spine; it was secured by a leather cord. She touched the ends of her hair distractedly; she had used two hairpins to keep hers in place. Would that be enough for a spar or would they fly off?
Biyu spread her hands over her silk skirt; she had chosen a deep gold dress with delicate purple dragons embroidered along the edges and all throughout the sleeves.
She wasn’t dressed for a spar and she didn’t want her dress to get dirtied with sand and sweat.
The latter, however, was becoming inevitable as she was already feeling sweat slicking her body.
“Worried about your clothes?” Nikator pulled out a dark blue outfit from the chest. “Put this on.”
“I can’t—” He chucked it at her and she scrambled forward to catch it. They were surprisingly soft and clean, though there was a lingering smell of old linen. She hugged it to her chest. “You can’t mean for me to wear these?”
“Yes, you.” Nikator rose up to his feet and stretched his arms. “You sound like a parrot.”
“A … parrot?”
“I just said that.”
“What is …” Heat flamed her cheeks. “What is that?”
“It’s a kind of bird.”
“A bird?”
He laughed. “See, you’re doing it again. Yes, a bird. It repeats itself.”
“You …” Her face flushed with embarrassment and she pointed at him. “Turn around. I don’t need you watching me change.”
He was still laughing when he turned, and Biyu had to hold everything within her not to berate him or throw the clothes right at his head.
She hadn’t intended to go along with whatever he planned—a spar, was it?
But maybe it was a good idea to beat some sense into him.
Or just beat him, in general. She was sure he’d go easy on her, and then she’d take that opportunity to smack his pretty face.
She stripped off her outer dress until she was in nothing but her inner clothes. They were pure white and they stuck to her body from the sweat. She hesitated. She didn’t need to take these off, right?
No, that didn’t sound right. She couldn’t be naked while trying to pull these training clothes on; not to mention she had no idea who they belonged to. A man? A woman?
Biyu neatly folded her dress and placed it by her feet while she unfurled the clothes Nikator had handed her.
There were two pieces; black linen pants and a long-sleeved blue tunic.
Her under robes consisted of a one-piece dress; if she was going to wear these, she would have to strip down completely.
“Whose … whose clothes are these?”
“Done?” He glanced over his shoulder at her.
She pressed the tunic over her chest, noting the way his sapphire eyes hungrily drank in her image.
She wasn’t showing any skin, but the under-robes were flimsy, thin for breathability in this summer heat, and highly inappropriate to be shown to anybody.
And yet he stared, gaze flicking over the curves of her hips.
Heat erupted over her flesh, climbing up her chest, neck, cheeks and spreading over her ears.
He finally ripped his attention away, turning back once more. He coughed. “They’re Thera’s, I think, but she hasn’t used them in some time. They might be too long for you, since she’s tall, but they should fit.”
“Ah. Okay. Just … just don’t turn around until I’m ready.” She was already feeling too hot, and she wasn’t sure if that was from the beating sun this time.
Biyu peeled back the last layer of her clothes and stepped into the pants.
She hastily tied the drawstrings to keep them in place and then yanked on the tunic.
Like Nikator had said, the clothes were too long for her, and she had to fold the sleeves and the hem of the pants to her ankles.
With her oversized outfit, coupled with her silk slippers that weren’t suitable for fighting, she was sure she looked ridiculous.
She cleared her throat. “I’m done.”
Nikator turned toward her, appraising her outfit with a lifted brow. “It’ll do.”
“And what exactly are we doing?” She gathered her clothes in her arms and headed over to the bench in the shaded area underneath the protruding stone roof.
She dumped them there and dusted her hands; sand was already sticking to her sweat.
“Sparring with weapons, or am I going to punch you or something?”