Chapter 14 #2
“This one’s not water.” I reached for my second canteen and passed it across the circle to him. The mystlight in the center cast a white-blue glow on his auburn hair as he nodded in thanks.
“Really?” Rina’s voice dripped with accusation.
“What?” I asked, but her scowl told me everything I needed to know.
“You’re going to drink out here?” Her sharp words dropped a silence over the group, and I felt the others tense.
I shrugged. “I only brought one canteen of it.” I’m dying anyway, I added to myself as the spot on my wrist, hidden beneath my leathers, burned.
But Rina’s narrowed eyes said it was not the amount that mattered. “Ophelia, you need your wits about you out here. You cannot spend every night drunk.”
My eyes rolled before I could stop them. “I took a sip to relax myself. I will not be inebriated.”
But I wrapped my hands tighter around the canteen. She didn’t understand. I needed this one source of warmth and comfort to support me when my mind went to a dark place, but I would not—would never—allow it to risk the success of our mission.
Anger as hot and fierce as I imagined the center of the Spirit Volcano to be rose within me at the accusation in her dark glare.
How could she possibly believe I would ever jeopardize something so precious?
I was the one who was given this task by Damien.
I was the one who was going to complete the Undertaking.
I was the only one who believed Malakai was still alive—who did not find that part of the mission pointless.
Rina’s eyes slid to my grip, then back to where I’d pulled my lip between my teeth to keep it from trembling. After a moment, she sighed. “You’re stronger than this. Please don’t go down that road.”
How dare she act as if this made me weak. I could admit it was a crutch, but I was anything but a fragile, shaky coward. To prove it, I uncurled my fingers from the canteen one by one, capped it, and tossed it to her.
“Fine, I’ll let you mother me. You can decide when I have it. Water it down as you always do.” I pushed myself to my feet and wiped my dirty hands on the thighs of my leathers to steady their trembling.
“I’ll take first watch.” I turned my back on their semicircle, but before I could take a step an arm wrapped around my waist. I was thrown over a strong shoulder, one hand gripping the back of my thighs to hold me in place.
“Vincienzo!” I roared, pounding on his muscled back. “Set me down.”
Tol dropped me to the dirt a few yards from our friends, looking down on me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?” I shoved myself to my feet. “Hit you? You’re the one throwing me around.”
“Don’t run away.” His voice was low, a mixture of command and pleading that shot through me, but I shook it off.
“I’m fine to take the watch, Vincienzo.” I stepped away. “I’m not drunk.”
He didn’t break my stare but pressed the cold leather of Starfire’s grip into my palm. I hadn’t even seen him sweep her up.
“I understand that, Alabath,” his lips curled around my name tauntingly, like he knew what game we were playing, though I did not.
He stepped back, removing his own sword, the blade hissing as it slid from its sheath.
Beside it hung his Vincienzo family dagger—the one he’d received on his sixteenth birthday, the ornate V catching the mystlight. “If you want to fight, we’ll fight.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
His lips split into a grin. “That may just be my favorite phrase of yours.”
“That’s because you’re constantly giving me a reason to utter it.” The words were a growl through my clenched teeth.
Tolek shrugged, tossing his sword between his hands. “You’re just afraid you’ll lose against me.”
“Fucking Angels, I’m afraid I’ll put my sword through you because you’re so infuriating.” I clutched Starfire but did not lift her.
His lips quirked upward. “Ah, my dear Ophelia, you’d never be able to even if you wanted.”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of that statement. “I could. So quickly you’d never know what happened.”
“Is that a threat?” His brows lowered, and he froze with eyes locked on mine. I heard our friends muttering but did not acknowledge them.
“I’m not doing this, Tolek.” I sheathed my sword and tried to push past him, but his next words brushed against my cheek, a secret just for me.
“Afraid the alcohol affects your skill?”
My eyes snapped to his, mere inches away. “No,” I snapped.
“Prove it.”
I placed two hands firmly on his chest and shoved—hard.
The anger that Santorina had stirred within me heightened until I was nearly shaking.
Tolek lifted his sword, tilted his head to either side to crack his neck, and wiggled his brows.
The smile lifting one corner of his lips told me that he knew he had me.
Without another word, I unsheathed my sword.
My feet, legs, entire body shifted into a stance that felt more natural than any other—a defensive position, ready to guard from any blade or foe.
My eyes flickered over Tolek’s body, awaiting his first strike, categorizing every twitch of his defined arm muscles and blink of his long lashes.
He winked, distracting me enough that I didn’t see his first blow coming.
His sword skimmed the front of my leathers, not close enough to tear, but close enough to let me know that if he had wanted it to—that swipe would have ended me.
“Your reflexes seem slow,” he said.
“That was a cheater’s shot,” I growled, but he was right. I should have dodged that.
“That’s a loser’s accusation.” He reset his stance. “Come and get it, Alabath.”
It took a few more strikes for me to regain my power, and in those close blows of Tolek’s I began to understand Santorina’s point.
For years, I had only trained with my sister.
I had learned her style so well that it was nearly impossible to surprise me, but fighting a different opponent highlighted my weaknesses.
Where my stamina and reactions were not what they should be.
I wasn’t sure if it was due to the alcohol that my body and mind had, to some extent, become dependent on, or if it was due to the secret burrowing into my wrist, but regardless of the cause—I was weakened.
The vulnerability turned to ash on my tongue.
Fury at my friends for seeing this, at myself for letting this happen, and at the Angels and Spirits that plunged me into this fate spread through my body.
It encouraged my movements—made them more precise.
I was not the fighter I should have been, but I posed a challenge for Tolek once again.
With each strike, I resumed a bit of my old control.
The repeated clash of our weapons was loud in the darkened forest. I lost myself in the dance of chagrin, swords, and teasing smiles.
I was unsure who was winning, but each drop of sweat beading on my forehead siphoned away more of the anger that had boiled my blood mere minutes ago.
Now, the heat pounded through my veins, tangling with assured spikes of adrenaline.
Because this was what I was born to do, and I would no longer allow myself to be weak.
“You’re merciless,” Tol whispered when our swords met between us. “I think I like it.”
A wicked smile spread across my face.
“There she is,” Tolek muttered. His sword barely stopped my next swing.
But I recovered quicker than he did, knocking the weapon from his hand with the pommel of my own and twirling around him. I grabbed his wrist as I went, twisting his sword arm behind his back. Starfire came up to rest in front of his throat, lightly touching the skin there.
He chuckled. Our hearts pounded, but mine felt lighter than it had before the fight. A wind picked up, blowing my hair around us.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his ear, making him shiver.
The Curse sent a shot of pain through my wrist that nearly knocked my sword from my hand.
“Anytime,” he panted.
The horses whinnied wildly, stamping their feet.
“Cursed Spirits,” Cypherion swore.
I stepped back from Tolek as a growl echoed through the trees.