Chapter 24
“Motherfucker!”
Maya staggered back. Blood dripped from a gash on her arm, joining the dozens of red stains already scattered on the snowy ground.
“Really? Was that necessary?”
Aleksander wiped his blade with a handkerchief. “Painful lessons stick better.”
Someone snickered, which was the only reason Maya kept from groaning.
Aleksander hadn’t lied when he said he would teach her, but his lessons weren’t particularly gentle, nor was she equally good at them.
The lectures on Court politics she’d received over the past few days were a breeze compared to this.
Usually, combat training—painful as it was—happened in a distant forest clearing. Not in the middle of the Chains outpost where seemingly half the army was congregated.
The outpost was a recently claimed bit of territory.
A few groups of cabins centered around a large hunting lodge, fit with a basement for the nocturnal members of the Court.
Less than a year before, it had housed a pack of lycanthropes, who had greeted the Chains patrol who came to talk to them by firing silver-loaded shotguns.
They’d been dispersed shortly after. Like Jackie’s pack, they followed brutal traditions.
They’d been holding a group of runaway teens captive in a basement when the Chains rolled in, so them being dealt with was a net gain.
And with the outpost’s proximity to St. Louis, it was a prime spot for deterring their new neighbors from venturing somewhere they weren’t wanted.
But it lacked entertainment. Which explained their growing audience.
Rolling her shoulder and raising her knife, she rushed towards Aleksander. The speed had been staggering only a few days ago, but she was learning quickly. She had to, since the consequences of not keeping up with Aleksander involved you getting stabbed.
He swiped his blade towards her, and she barely avoided the knife’s path. He advanced in a flurry of blows too fast for her to push through. Then Aleksander’s blade suddenly vanished from sight, appearing in his offhand, and sliced over her knuckles.
She cursed and dropped her switchblade. A firm shove followed, sending her stumbling backwards, where she slipped in the snow and fell onto her back.
Aleksander kneeled next to her, resting his knife against her throat.
“You’re dead. Again.”
More snickering. Lovely.
Aleksander offered her his hand. With only slight hesitation, she accepted it and let him pull her upright.
“One more round.”
He handed her back the switchblade. She hadn’t even noticed him picking it up. Though, knowing Aleksander and his cat-like reflexes, he’d caught it before it even hit the ground.
She accepted the blade. “You said ‘one more round’ five rounds ago.”
Scattered laughter sounded from the crowd. Aleksander didn’t react. He just shifted into a combat stance, knife raised. Maya groaned, mirroring him, when a woman with black hair in a ponytail came running up to their sparring circle.
“Message for you, King.” She held up an envelope. Its edges shimmered, as though covered in a layer of frost.
Aleksander’s eyes narrowed. He straightened, accepting the letter.
“Thank you, Kane.” He gave Maya a nod. “Take a break. Seems like you need it.”
Maya kept herself from rolling her eyes. She wasn’t the only one who sucked at lessons. Aleksander’s version of ‘personable’ still needed work.
“That was entertaining.” Diana grinned as Maya hobbled over to her. “You’re making some progress. Aleksander rolled up his sleeves this time.”
Maya grimaced, sitting down on the bench Diana had claimed. She’d wanted a front-row seat to the show.
“Or maybe he just didn’t want to get blood on his shirt.”
Diana laughed, making a few people look their way. But no one approached.
Asking for Diana to follow them to the border hadn’t been based in selfishness, but Maya would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate her presence. Without her, she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to other than Aleksander.
A pang went through her chest. She pulled her phone from her pocket, swiping into her texts.
Nothing. Like usual.
Diana handed her a towel. “Want some advice?”
Maya wiped the blood off her skin. There were no wounds or even scars. Aleksander had let her use the switchblade, but he’d used a steel knife. Though the metal hurt, it didn’t bite like silver did.
“Not particularly. I have a feeling that won’t matter.”
“You’re moving like you’re scared of getting cut,” Diana said, earning herself a long look.
“And that’s unreasonable?”
“It’s wishful thinking. In a knife fight, the only guarantee is that you’ll get cut. In your attempt to avoid the inevitable, your attacks become hesitant. It makes you easy to hit.” Diana cocked her head. “But you’re very easy to hit today. Everything good?”
Another ache flared through her chest. Sudden, sharp, and familiar, given that it had grown from an occasional nuisance to being constant.
A week had passed. A week of nothing, as she hadn’t heard from Harper once in all the time she’d been at this goddamn outpost. No phone calls, no texts, no reaction to the updates Maya sent.
The only interaction they’d had was the tiny ‘Read’ marker under Maya’s messages, proving that Harper had seen them.
She hadn’t sent an update that evening. Granted, between training and following Aleksander around as he rattled off important and boring Court information, she hadn’t really had time.
But she also had a horrible feeling that if she sent a message, it would be ignored. Like all the previous ones.
“Harper’s still not answering?” Diana asked. Maya sighed.
“No. Still radio silence.”
Diana cleared her throat, looking away.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s probably just busy. She’ll get back to you.”
“Yeah.” Maya rubbed her chest. “It’s just… It hurts.”
That wasn’t the right word. It didn’t hurt to suddenly be missing a chamber of your heart. To suffer an absence so severe that it was all you could think about.
This didn’t just hurt. This was torture without the pain aspect.
Diana opened her mouth. Closed it. Then she sighed and patted Maya on the shoulder. A resigned act that only made the pull in Maya’s chest tense further.
“Maya!”
She sat up straight. Aleksander was staring right at her, black eyes dark like bottomless pits.
He gestured her over. “Come. We need to talk.”
Exchanging a glance with Diana, Maya approached him. She was tempted to tell Aleksander to stuff it, but not with his army there as witness. That would probably have painful consequences.
“Something wrong?” She glanced at the letter in his hand. “Is it about that message?”
Aleksander stuffed the paper into his pocket. “Time will tell. For now, you need a lesson of a different kind.”
In a blink, his form went from solid to smear, lines in the snow showing the direction he’d run.
Maya suppressed a groan. One thing she’d learned about the King of Chains since becoming his studious shadow was that he rivaled Angela for impatience. Waiting for others to catch up with him, literally or otherwise, always made him annoyed.
She hurried after him. She wasn’t anywhere near as fast as Aleksander, since he had both age and a Regent title on his side, but she was getting closer. Gaining more control.
At least somewhat. She still stumbled when she came to a stop.
Aleksander was standing with his back turned, looking into the distance. They were a mile or so away from the outpost, facing the border carved into the landscape by the winding Mississippi River.
It was more tangible than most Court boundaries. Many followed state and city lines, but just as many didn’t. It made them hard to claim. Easy to challenge. The smaller the Court, the more its borders could flex and shrink. Could bleed and break.
“What is it?” she asked, possessing enough self-preservation that she glared at a nearby tree rather than Aleksander. “Am I being disciplined for something? Since you felt the need to kick my ass in front of everyone.”
“If my reason for doing so isn’t obvious, then you haven’t paid attention to your lessons.”
“Didn’t realize there was a lesson to be learned.” Maya rolled her shoulder and winced. “Beyond the obvious.”
He looked back at her. “Which is?”
She gestured at her sliced t-shirt. “Dodge.”
If she didn’t know for a fact that Aleksander never smiled, she could have sworn he smirked at that.
“Where did you learn how to fight like that, anyway?” she asked, walking up next to him. “Doesn’t seem very kingly.”
The ghost of a smile vanished.
“I didn’t have a kingly upbringing. In either of my lives.
You know the Court of Night has vicious preferences in entertainment.
I was a decent fighter in my human days, so my Maker decided I would be more valuable to him as a vampiric gladiator than a blood slave.
If he hadn’t, I would have been branded the same way you were.
Only my skill section would have been left blank. ”
Ice needled down her spine. Plenty of people lacked the luck she did.
Didn’t have any skills a group of monsters might find entertaining.
If you were unfortunate enough to have both a common blood type and nothing written in your special skills section, a quick death was the kindest fate you could hope for.
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Few do. Few dare ask.” His dark eyes turned steely. “Do you have any other questions for me?”
His tone suggested that she should. As did his unwavering gaze. A week of watching him had desensitized her to his intimidating visage, but its effects hadn’t entirely vanished. He was still the King of Chains, after all.
He wasn’t exactly a pleasant teacher, either.
There wasn’t much room for her to ask questions, with it usually being the other way around.
He had her recite facts, analyze problems, and occasionally, had her explain what he might have done or said to make someone hurry away from him scared out of their wits.