9. CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
A gentle breeze rustled the forest canopy overhead, dappling the world around Rowan with dancing light and shadows. Following several days of travel, they’d set up camp late into the night. Now Rowan paused to take in the surroundings that looked so different in the light of day. Next to her, a peaceful pond sat undisturbed, except for the occasional ripple caused by adventurous fish breaking the surface.
The smell of roasting fish made Rowan's mouth water, and she couldn't help but smile as she watched Casimir carefully rotate a skewer over the crackling fire. After their long journey, she had rested while he’d set up camp. Now, he was taking care of breakfast for her.
“That smells fantastic,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb the tranquil silence.
His face lit up when he looked at her. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s almost done.”
Casimir returned his attention to the cooking fish, which was now sizzling and popping with tantalizing promise. Rowan moved to sit beside him, taking a moment to appreciate how the morning light painted him in hues of gold and bronze.
“It’s ready.” Casimir plucked a piece of fillet from the skewer with his bare fingers, extending the meat toward her. “Careful, it’s hot,” he warned.
Rowan was too hungry and impatient to wait. Leaning forward, she ate directly from Casimir’s fingers, moaning in pleasure as the flavor burst in her mouth—smoky from the fire and salty from the simple seasonings he had used.
Casimir blinked in surprise and a rich, deep chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I was worried for a moment that my fingers weren't safe. ”
Rowan smiled widely and grabbed the rest of the fillet from his hand, devouring her breakfast with gusto, warmth spreading through her body.
Once her appetite was sated, she leaned back and dabbed at her mouth with her sleeve. As her eyes drifted toward the pond, they fell on a weathered leather-bound book next to Casimir’s travel pack. Curious, she tilted her head to get a better look.
“What’s that?” She nudged him gently with her shoulder.
Casimir glanced over to where Rowan was looking. “This?” He picked up the book and held it out to her. “Just my notes about combat tactics and strategy.”
Rowan took the book gently, flipping through it. The pages were yellowed with age, their corners dog-eared and ink faded. They contained multitudes of notes and diagrams that spoke volumes about the precision of Casimir’s mind.
“I’ve always had a fascination with tactical strategies.” He leaned over to trace a finger over the detailed images, as if he knew every line by heart. “Battle formations, defense tactics . . . it’s like a chess game, but with real consequences. History’s written by those who can maneuver their pieces the best.”
“These are truly amazing.” Rowan read a few more pages with reverence before passing the book back to him. “Your strategic mind is likely to come in handy over the next few days.”
“Now that you mention it . . .” Casimir wrapped the book in a cloth and packed it away. “I’ve been trying to anticipate what we might encounter, and I think it would be best if I trained you in combat and self-defense before we reach Ashbourne.”
“You want to train me?” She blinked rapidly, but the idea wasn’t disagreeable. She would like to be able to better defend herself.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “There may be times when I’m not able to protect you. If that happens, I would feel a lot better if you had training.”
“Sounds good to me.” She wiped her hands on her dress and stood up. “So, how’s this going to work? What do I do first?”
Casimir studied her for a moment before standing up and drawing his sword. It was a long, elegant weapon, its hilt intricately decorated with spiraling motifs that shone faintly in the soft light filtering through the trees.
“The first thing is to familiarize yourself with the sword.” He held it out so she could see its full length. “The strength of a blade doesn’t lie entirely in its size or edge; it’s about how you wield it. ”
He handed her the sword and watched as she took hold of the hilt. He corrected her grip slightly and then stepped back to let her become familiar with the feel of it.
“This sword belongs to you now. Learning to hold your weapon correctly is crucial.” He grasped the dagger at his belt, giving her an example. “You need a firm grip, but not too tight. Your hand should be relaxed enough to move swiftly, yet strong enough to withstand a blow.”
Rowan nodded, trying to replicate his grip on her own blade. She swung the sword experimentally, giving a slight grimace at its weight.
The next hour was devoted to familiarizing herself with the weight and balance of the sword. She performed lunges, thrusts, and various strikes against an imaginary foe, all under Casimir’s watchful eye. He was meticulous in instructing her on how to correctly hold the blade, stand, and move with it.
“Good,” he encouraged. “Now let’s talk about fighting tactics.”
With that, they moved on to practicing basic moves—how to parry an attack, how to thrust correctly, and how to use her body’s momentum to make her swing stronger. Casimir also showed her how to wield a dagger as a last line of defense if she was disarmed.
As the morning wore on into afternoon, he would mimic an attack so she could practice parrying and dodging. Sweat poured down Rowan’s face as she pushed herself harder, falling into rhythm with Casimir’s chants of “Attack, parry, dodge.”
They stopped for a break, and she gulped down some water from a skin Casimir had thoughtfully provided. Her muscles ached from the strain, and her hands were raw despite the gloves he’d given her. But there was a thrill to it, a sense of empowerment, that kept her going.
“You’re doing great,” Casimir praised, offering her a smile before his face turned serious once again. “What I’ve been teaching you are the basics that will help you hold your own against human enemies. But when it comes to vampires like the Reaper . . .”
He trailed off. She understood the implication, but nodded for him to continue anyway.
“Vampires are faster and stronger than you are,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The chair leg you wielded when we were attacked showed that it’s not impossible for you to fend them off. But other tactics can yield more effective results.”
“All right.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off fatigue. “Consider me your eager student. Show me what I need to do. ”
“Well, then.” Casimir nodded and rose to his full height. “The kid gloves are about to come off.”
“I can’t help but feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much.”
The only response she received was the sound of his laughter. One moment he was beside her, and the next he had melted into the shadows of the forest.
“Ready yourself.” His voice echoed through the trees, tinged with a teasing note.
Drawing in a deep breath, Rowan tightened her grip on her sword and scanned the surrounding area. The woods were filled with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves as the wind danced through them. Sounds that would have been calming in any other situation.
With a whoosh of air, Casimir appeared before her, seemingly out of nowhere. She instinctively raised her sword to block his incoming attack.
“Good.” He dodged easily out of sight again. “Your reflexes are getting better.”
Every shadow seemed to vibrate with potential danger as she strained to predict where he might strike next. Suddenly there came a rustling noise behind her, and she spun around, but found nothing.
She barely had time to react as Casimir lunged at her from the side. He struck with calculated precision, catching her completely off guard. His teeth gently grazed the hollow of her neck, his breath fanning her skin as he effortlessly outmaneuvered her.
“Got you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear before casually walking away. “But don’t worry. I won't bite—at least not today.” He turned back to give her a devilish smirk.
Rowan’s stomach did a little flip, and she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly parched. It took a colossal effort on her part to suppress her body’s reaction to him, but she was determined to remain focused. She tightened her grip on her weapon and readied her stance.
Their game of cat and mouse continued, and occasionally she was able to land a blow or two, met with an appreciative nod from Casimir. Her body thrummed with adrenaline and sweat pooled on her brow, but she held on steadfastly, meeting every attack from him with equal fervor.
With her senses heightened from hours of practice, a flash of movement alerted Rowan of another impending attack. She could almost feel Casimir’s breath on the nape of her neck. Channeling all her energy into a single forceful heave upward, she threw her head back hard. She was met with a satisfying crack. Surprised, Casimir stumbled backward, clutching his bloody nose .
“Got you.” Rowan smirked, mocking his earlier words.
“Aye. You got me fair and square.” Casimir chuckled, touching his nose with a grimace. “That’s enough for today.” He gestured to the dying light of the sun on the horizon.
They made their way back to their camp, and Rowan excused herself to wash up in the pond while Casimir busied himself preparing the fire. Under the watchful gaze of the rising moon, she stripped off her clothes, basking in the refreshing coolness of the water against her heated skin.
She returned a while later with her hair still wet from her bath. Casimir offered her cooked rabbit and fruit, and they sat in comfortable silence while she ate, enjoying the peaceful sounds of crickets chirping and the distant hoot of an owl.
“Casimir broke the silence first, gesturing toward his bag where his book on combat tactics and strategies was partially visible. “Now that you know about my hobby, what are some of your hobbies and interests?”
Rowan swallowed down the last bite of her meal. “I really enjoy reading and creating stories.”
Casimir raised an eyebrow, turning fully to face her. “What sort of stories?”
His attention on her caused a warm flush to spread across her cheeks, but at the same time, a small smile tugged at her lips. “When I was at the orphanage, I used to tell stories to the younger children every night at bedtime.” She stared at the crackling fire as the flames danced. “They were tales about brave knights, beings with magical powers, and epic quests across far-off lands.”
Rowan paused for a moment.
“Lyra’s my best friend.” Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. “Late at night, after everyone else fell asleep, we would often spend hours telling each other stories about the adventures we’d go on together once we escaped.” She sighed, staring down at her hands in her lap.
“You must miss your friends a lot,” Casimir said softly.
The comment hit Rowan harder than she would have anticipated. An ache spread through her chest.
“More than I ever thought possible.” She let out a shaky breath before continuing. “Lyra and the other orphans—they weren’t just my friends; they were my family. We used to make promises to each other that no matter where we went or what happened to us, we would always find our way back to one another.” She hugged herself as if trying to ward off an invisible chill. “But now I’ll never see them again, and I’m all alone.” Her voice broke with raw emotion.
Casimir reached out and gently took her hand in his. “You’re not alone, Rowan.” His voice was soft, but carried an undeniable conviction. “You have me now.” His thumb gently stroked over her knuckles as he spoke. “I know I can’t replace those you’ve lost. But I can be here for you now, and . . . well . . . I think of us as friends.”
Rowan blinked at him, caught off guard by his unexpected sweetness. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to be vulnerable. She squeezed his hand in return, taking immense solace in his touch.
For a while, they sat in silence, the northern lights painting the sky in swirls of green and purple. The vivid colors seemed to dance in time with the flickering flames of their fire.
“It’s beautiful,” Casimir murmured.
Rowan nodded in agreement, her gaze never leaving the sky. “When I was younger, I used to make up stories about what caused them. I told Lyra they were messages from our ancestors in the stars.”
Casimir turned to look at her then, their hands still intertwined. “Maybe they are.”
Rowan’s lips curved into a faint, hopeful smile. “Maybe,” she echoed quietly.