Chapter 32 – Raelyn
Chapter Thirty-Two
RAELYN
Kian absolutely has something up his sleeve, and I’m intrigued enough to risk finding out what.
He’s right; I can’t stay locked up in our wing forever, and while I don’t want to admit it to him, sparring actually sounds incredible.
I am feeling a little stir-crazy. Other than venturing back to the library to read up more on the gods, I’ve hardly done anything in the palace other than dine with the court; there is always a worry in the back of my mind that I’ll run into the king on my own, or that someone will call me out on this sham of a marriage.
Despite Kian insisting we need to share a bedroom so that people won’t wonder about us, he hasn’t slept in our room, much less in our wing.
It’s honestly kind of a relief when I consider how uncomfortable I was waking up from my nap with his body curled around me that first day.
Or maybe I was just uncomfortable with how much I liked it.
Perhaps he found some other woman to share a bed with .
. . maybe someone from before who wouldn’t let him go.
I try not to dwell on that, as I’m worried I’ll just get depressed.
While, rationally, I know it’s what we agreed upon, that doesn’t mean I like it.
As long as no rumors spread around court about my husband cheating on me, I suppose I can deal.
Despite the gods “blessing” our marriage, they don’t care about faithfulness.
Odd, when a marriage bond is supposed to be forever.
Sneaking a glance at Kian, I can’t help but admire how handsome he looks in his training clothes, the supple leather pants hugging his legs like a second skin.
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and his strong, stubbled jaw draws my eyes.
What would that feel like beneath my fingers?
Not that I’ll ever find out. Despite the tension between us, it’s never gone beyond teasing.
I was almost relieved when he asked me to spend time with him today. After our disastrous conversation a few nights ago, I realized I might have been too harsh. I don’t actually know what Kian does for the kingdom. Perhaps I should have asked first instead of judging so harshly.
I blow out a breath while tugging at the hem of my tunic.
Even though it covers my rear, I feel almost naked with these formfitting pants on.
It’s not as if a stray breeze will fly through the corridor and reveal my figure to anyone in proximity, but I’m still uncomfortable.
These are nothing like the loose-fitting clothes I train in at home, but it was the best I could come up with.
My mind wanders back to what Kian said earlier about the lion and the sun god—the deity I might have some relation to.
Is he right? Is a god—or even Kyros himself—trying to send me some kind of message?
Maybe I should pay closer attention to my dreams .
. . but just thinking that will probably make my dreams float away on a breeze and never return.
Kian leads me into the large training arena.
The ground consists of softly packed dirt, and the walls are covered in colorful targets of all shapes and sizes.
One section of the arena has a ring with mats for hand-to-hand combat.
The wall of weapons is the most breathtaking of all: so many shiny swords and knives and beautiful wooden bow staffs.
Alex is doing some kind of warm-up with one such staff. He’s wearing loose-fitted pants but has removed his shirt. While he isn’t quite as defined as Kian, there is definitely muscle underneath some of the softness, and he’s quite pleasant to look at.
“Kian! Raelyn! Nice of you to finally show up,” he calls out cheekily. His gaze darts behind me, as if looking for someone.
I haven’t seen him since our bonding ceremony, but his warm welcome exudes a sense of familiarity that I don’t hate—as if we’re already friends.
“Hi.” I wave shyly.
“Did you have to take your shirt off, Alex?” Kian groans in mock annoyance. “I don’t need my wife ogling another man.”
Alex laughs, flexing one of his biceps. “Trust me, once your shirt is off, she won’t be looking at me.”
Kian shakes his head as he climbs into the training ring, kicking off his shoes. “Looks like you’ve been keeping up with your training there. Good job.”
I watch them with amusement. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of exercise needed to achieve their muscle mass.
Sure enough, once Kian removes his shirt, my eyes are drawn to his impressive physique.
When my gaze dips to the V leading beneath his pants, I quickly look away, embarrassed at my staring.
Alex was right though. He’s a fine specimen of a man.
It really is too bad there’s no chance I’ll get to enjoy it.
At the thought of an eternally loveless marriage, my heart sinks. I was a fool for agreeing to this. But he also saved me from a horrible situation, and I wouldn’t want to return to that ever.
Alex sets down his staff, and he and Kian go through some warm-up stretches together. I’m fascinated at their movements and itch to join in, but I’m also stubborn and unsure. I haven’t sparred in months, and while all the cleaning around the manor kept me somewhat in shape, it’s not the same.
“Swords?” Kian asks.
Alex groans. “Okay, fine. But you’re gonna kick my ass.”
“As usual.” Kian winks.
I laugh at their antics and watch in fascination as their swords meet with each strike and parry, their moves fluid like dancing. Longing fills me at thoughts of the training yard back home and all the sessions with my father. I miss my rapier.
At one point, I think Alex just might get the better of Kian until Kian completes a stunning move of agility and flips out of the way just in the nick of time. Within seconds, he has his sword at Alex’s throat, and Alex drops his own in surrender.
I break into applause, and they both turn to gawk at me. I stop clapping and shrug. “Am I not supposed to do that?”
Alex lets out a hearty laugh. “I like her, Ki. You picked a good one.”
I flush at the praise, and Kian gives me a grin. “I hope it hasn’t been too painfully boring for you to stand and watch.”
“It’s actually quite riveting,” I reply.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give it a go?”
“I don’t think I could handle such a large sword.”
Alex almost chokes on a laugh as Kian rolls his eyes. “Better watch out, Rae. Alex is just as bad with innuendo as I am.”
“I sort of walked right into that,” I admit with a grin.
“I reiterate, I like this one,” Alex repeats. “But come on, Rae. You don’t have to start with a broadsword. How about daggers?”
“Perfect,” I agree. “Target practice? Probably better I not start with sparring. I’d likely fall on my rear like you did.”
“That’s how you learn, love.” Kian winks.
“Target practice,” I repeat. As much as I’m itching to take him on, I’m out of practice and he’s clearly a better swordsman than my father . . . not that I’d tell Father that.
“Fine, you win,” Kian agrees.
Alex retrieves some small daggers, and we head over to the targets. Kian makes a show of how to properly throw them, and I try not to roll my eyes. To be fair, I haven’t actually admitted to them that I know what I’m doing. All the more fun for me to surprise them.
“Try not to cut yourself,” Kian says, and before he can utter another word, I let two of the daggers fly in rapid succession.
The satisfying thunk of the blades sinking into the wood makes me glow with pride. I haven’t lost my skill. I turn to look at the men, whose jaws are slack.
“She’s better at this than you are.” Alex laughs, punching Kian in the shoulder. Kian grunts, rubbing at a fresh scar. What could have caused that? I walk to the target to retrieve the blades, and while I didn’t hit a perfect bullseye, my throws aren’t half bad.
“I love a woman who knows how to handle a blade,” Kian purrs in my ear, and I almost jump.
“You should know better than to frighten a woman holding sharp objects.”
His answering laugh sends a thrill through me.
Kian, Alex, and I spend the next hour throwing blades from different angles and positions, all trying to best each other while attitudes remain light. It’s such a change from practice with my father, who easily got frustrated when I bested him. Not all men are equal.
“Now that you’re warmed up, how about a little knife sparring on the mat?” Kian asks before taking a long drink of water.
“I don’t know . . . I haven’t really done that before.”
“It’s one thing to throw knives at targets, but if you ever really needed to defend yourself, it would be helpful to actually practice with another person. Don’t worry, we’ll use dull practice knives.”
My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. “Is self-defense something I need to be worried about living in the palace?”
“Trust me, love, I hope you’re never in a position where you need to worry about that, but with a vigilante running around, you never know what might happen,” Kian says.
Alex chokes on his water, and I frown. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.” He coughs. “Fine.”
“If nothing else, it’s good exercise.” Kian grins.
Both men take turns walking me through some of the basic moves: simple thrusts, hooks, horizontal and vertical slashes.
They guide me through them slowly, and I feel powerful and strong.
It’s almost like dancing. Kian’s hand wraps gently around mine as he demonstrates the best places to attack if I were ever in a compromised position.
The air crackles and hums with energy, drawing us together like magnets.
At some point, Alex makes his farewells and leaves the two of us alone.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” Kian says with a smile. He pulls his hair back and knots it on the back of his head, and my eyes are immediately drawn to his strong, beautiful neck, to his throat . . . where his pulse hammers. Hells. Stop looking, I chastise myself.
Ever since the librarian told me about demi-gods using blood to strengthen and revive themselves, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Why this craving is stronger in Kian’s presence specifically is beyond me.
Is it because I tasted it during the binding ceremony?
My further research suggested the urge to drink faded with each generation, but that can’t be right.
Surely the bloodline was diluted enough by the time it got to me.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to focus.
Kian looks at me strangely, motioning for me to attack. I swipe at him with my right hand, but he easily twists out of the way, coming up behind me, holding my arms out of reach.
“You’re getting there. You just need to be a little quicker,” he taunts.
I twist around, thrusting up with my left hand, and he blocks the strike. I grunt in frustration. It would be nice to land at least one hit.
Kian twists me around and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Try again, love.”
I back away, following his every move. He looks like a cat ready to pounce.
Hoping to catch him off guard, I rush him, going straight for his chest. As if he expected it, he braces himself for impact, but I swerve at the last moment and try the move I saw him use on Alex, sweeping my leg out to knock him off-balance.
The look of shock on his face as he hits the ground is so incredibly satisfying, I crow in celebration as I pin him with my knees.
It reminds me of the night I knelt over the vigilante.
When I hold one of my blades to his throat, the deja vu is so strong, it almost shocks me out of the moment.
“Got you,” I say as I lean down and stare directly into his beautiful smoky eyes.
The grin on his face is contagious, and I can’t stop the answering one on mine. “That you did, love.”
In a split second, he pushes himself up to a seated position, and my eyes widen in horror as the dull blade I held to his throat slices into him.
“Kian!” I shriek, immediately dropping the knife and fumbling to put a hand on his throat to stop the bleeding. What if I nicked his carotid? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. If I accidentally murder the prince, the king will surely have me killed.
Kian winces but tries to shush me. “Don’t panic, love. It’s just a small slice. Trust me, I’ve had way worse.”
I pull my hand away, and sure enough, there’s no blood gushing out of his throat, merely a small trickle. Relief and anger well up inside me.
“Kian!” I scream at him again. “What in the ever-loving hells is wrong with you? I could have really hurt you!”
“But you didn’t. I’m fine.” He smiles reassuringly, but there’s a flash of something like disappointment in his eyes that I was not expecting to see.
I take a deep breath, and my nose is assaulted by the scent of his blood. Damn it. I realize I’m practically on Kian’s lap, but as I go to pull away, needing to put distance between the tantalizing smell and me, Kian’s eyes darken, and he leans in toward me.
What is he doing?