Chapter 18
Soren reared back as if struck. The words were a harsh reminder of what she was capable of. She was a fool to think she could forget the souls she had taken last night, and this was just proof of that. But she couldn’t touch that part of herself, not again, and certainly not now with him.
“Did you think last night was the end of our training?” Vane asked, as if it were a casual, simple question. “You did well, but we need to make sure you can wield atop Thessilnn too.”
“I will end up killing you, you—” She cut herself off before the insult could lift from her tongue.
Vane didn’t let it slip, though. “You ‘what?’ What were you going to call me, Soren?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was just going to…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. You’re afraid of what I’m going to do if you insult me, aren’t you?”
“Fine!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, yes. But you don’t have the right to call me weak for that. I had to survive in that palace for over a decade, and that included learning to hold my tongue.”
Fury she did not understand darkened his eyes and tightened his jaw. An unusually warm breeze disturbed the strands of her hair as she balled her hands into fists at her sides.
“I don’t begrudge your survival,” he said in a low voice. “Quite the contrary, Soren, which is why I am telling you now to let go of your fear. Insult me however you wish if it helps. I might even enjoy it.”
She hated the sudden flush of heat she felt as he tacked on those last words. He had made her kill ‘rebels’ last night, and she knew he was keeping secrets, and yet…
She wanted him.
It was an odd feeling, the desire. She wasn’t necessarily a stranger to the sensation, but not like this, not so sudden and raging like summer floodwaters swelling in a river, threatening to sweep her away at any moment.
It was so much worse since the dream last night.
In the days before, she had felt a draw to him, but now, the pull was taking shape.
The vague feelings were becoming emotions she could not afford to have, not for him.
She turned away from him, striding towards Thessa, just to get some space and clarity.
“Don’t hold back,” he called.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. This was infuriating, and he was more stupid than she had thought if he was so sure she couldn’t hurt him. She didn’t want to, but the power inside her was so strong, so overwhelming now that she had finally let it out. Stopping it would be a feat itself.
You do not give yourself enough credit.
Soren settled on the saddle. Let’s hope so. I think the commander will kill me if I kill my trainer.
You won’t.
Soren sucked in a breath as Thessa flapped her wings once, then again until they were airborne, circling the field. And Vane…
He merely stood there.
“What in the name of the gods,” Soren muttered, wind whipping her hair and stinging her face.
I believe he is waiting for you to begin. I will continue to circle, as dull as it is.
Soren shut her eyes, half of her trying to push the power down and half attempting to drag it out of the cages she kept it in. In the end, the power won out.
Thessa dove, as if sensing it, and Soren splayed her hands wide. Shadow, dark as ichor, surrounded Vane as they shot past him, low to the ground. Soren felt his life in her hands, bright and hot as a blazing fire.
She knew she could extinguish it whenever she wanted.
Thessa landed, the force of it pulling Soren from the hazy lull of the magic just as Vane fell to his knees. She gasped and tugged on Death’s hands, forcing him back before he could consume Vane any further.
Frantically, she slid of Thessa’s back, ignoring the pain that shot up her legs as she hit the ground and sprinted over to Vane. He was laughing as she approached.
“Good,” he said, voice rasping. “You’re already stronger than I thought.”
This time, he did not catch her wrist as she bent down and slapped him hard across the face.
“I could have killed you!” she shouted. “I almost did!”
Vane’s hand rose to his face, his fingertips brushing across the reddening skin. When his gaze met hers, she froze.
“Don’t say it.”
She swallowed hard. “Say what?”
“Sorry. I know you want to.”
Shifting her gaze to the horizon, she blinked back a sudden burning in her eyes. “Earlier, before I stopped myself, I wanted to call you an idiot. Which you are.”
“Mm, perhaps. But now, we know you can do it.”
She flicked her gaze back to his. “What? Stop myself?”
“No, Soren. Kill someone you care for. You may have to someday, given what side of the war you are currently on.”
She bristled. “First of all, I didn’t kill you, and second, you are my trainer, nothing more. We both know that.”
Humor disappeared from his face. His jaw flexed, and he said, “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I am. We can’t be friends. Friends do not keep so many secrets between them.”
Vane said nothing, instead rising and offering her a hand. She ignored him, standing on her own and avoiding his eyes.
She practiced with Thessa for the rest of the day, Vane giving instructions that the dragon seemed to understand before they took to the air.
Soren didn’t speak to him beyond nods and vague acknowledgments.
Still, even as she tried to rebuild a wall between them, the tension did not dissipate, and her emotions only continued to run wild.
It all grew worse when she looked at him, so she tried to avoid doing so.
When evening darkened the sky and they landed for the last time, she found Vane had gone, leaving another generously filled pack of food in his place. She tried to continue being angry with him. It was a task that proved more difficult than it should have been.
She waited until camp was quiet to return to the tent, curling up on the sleeping mat and trying not to cry until sleep claimed her.
A dagger whizzed past her ear, nearly nicking it before it embedded itself in the tree behind her. The air was cooler now, the foliage around them shades of tan and brown.
“Not bad,” she mused before sauntering over to him.
She kissed him, slow and thorough, letting her fingers twine through the dark strands of his hair. He groaned into her mouth, and she arched against him.
“Show me,” he said on her lips. “I want to see you try to kill me, darling.”
She grinned and pulled back. “Try? You underestimate me.”
“I’m sure I do.”
She drew her blade first, tossing him the other. He caught it easily, and as they began to circle one another, she asked, “How did you learn to fight? I don’t assume many farmhands have use for killing?”
“My mother,” he replied, dipping his chin. “She didn’t want me to be defenseless, I suppose.”
“And who taught her?”
He made the first move, and she sidestepped him easily before swinging out her foot. He stumbled but managed to steady himself.
“I’m not sure. She never told me.”
She lowered her arm. “You don’t talk about her much.”
He smiled sadly. “She was strong but afraid. My entire life…I remember her always with fear in her eyes.”
“What did she fear?”
He moved like the wind, tripping her but catching her with a hand to the small of her back as they hit the ground. His mouth hovered above hers, his blade to her throat as he said, “You.”
“The gods,” she whispered. “She feared the gods.”
He planted a quick, hard kiss to her mouth, lifting the sword and pulling them both up. “Yes, though I never learned exactly why. Something to do with me, I think.”
“She wanted to keep you safe,” she said softly. “I understand. Our world is a dangerous one for mortals.”
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t. You don’t need to protect me, remember? Besides, I just handed you your ass in a duel.”
Her lips twitched. She could have beat him easily, and she was sure he knew that. She just couldn’t stand hurting him.