Chapter 20
Ididn’t cry. Not a single, damned tear.
I didn’t believe his words—that I was so na?ve as to be blind.
I didn’t even search for reasoning, because I wouldn’t find any.
Instead, I stewed. I stewed so much that my lungs heated and my jaw cramped from clenching, and when I looked in the mirror after scrubbing my skin raw in the bath, I finally saw my eyes aglow.
The rivers of violet and gold were startlingly bright, not like torchlight, but as if they had a sheen.
Like the way river water gleamed and rippled when there was no wind, or how a well-groomed horse’s mane looked glossy in the right kind of light.
It should have made me uncomfortable, to see these unnatural irises become even more bizarre, but it brought forth an entirely different feeling. One of strength.
I wasn’t some na?ve villager. I was the woman who was going to help save this world. Harthon, as big and bad and tough as he was, needed me. And these glowing, angry eyes were a stark testament to that.
Maybe if I showed them to Aric, he might finally believe I was the magvis.
That thought, coupled with the energy buzzing through my veins, had me swinging my door open.
Of course, Stefano was there.
“I’m not staying in this room,” I declared.
Before he had a chance to argue, I shoved past him in search of a guard. When I found one, he refused to take me to the Princeps, who was currently meeting with Harthon.
“Do you know who I am?” I demanded.
Trepidation warred with duty on his gruff face, my eyes no doubt amplifying the reaction. But he remained firm in his refusal.
Aric’s hold over his people was impressively absolute.
Returning to my quarters wasn’t an option. It was far too confining at the moment. “Then take me to a room that isn’t mine. Somewhere I can train. Or you’ll find out the true limit to my patience.”
Either this was allowed by Aric or my threat worked, because a minute later, I was ushered into an open, empty room. Stuffed burlap sacks sat stacked against the wall, wooden training weapons hanging above them.
This was a far better place to stew.
I looked at Stefano. “How healed are you?”
“Completely.”
I marched over to the wall, plucked up two wooden daggers, and tossed one to him. “Let’s go.”
He eyed me warily. “Your eyes are doing that thing.”
“Yes, apparently they do that when I’m angry. Now either hit me or let me hit you.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I rushed him and began to make use of the situation between me and Harthon.
* * *
We were still battling when dusk came. We’d gone from wooden daggers, to hand-to-hand, to individual movement drills, and now we were sparring again. The fact that Stefano was still kicking my ass suggested he was, in fact, fully healed.
The door opened just as I sent a spinning kick into his side. He caught it and froze, both of us looking at the entranceway.
Aric leaned against the doorframe, intrigue on his face. “Decent form,” he commented.
Harthon’s figure filled the doorway behind him. I ignored him, refusing to satisfy him with any acknowledgement.
“We’re in the middle of something,” I said. Harthon’s presence was calling back all the anger I’d just worked off, and I was no longer in the mood to see the other Princeps.
“Don’t mind us,” Aric replied, ignoring the message.
“But I do mind.”
His eyes narrowed in focus, and he strutted up to me. In my periphery, Harthon shifted closer and Stefano tensed.
“Your eyes…they’re luminous,” he said in wonder. Aric lifted two hands, like he meant to touch my face. “May I?”
My initial reaction was a staunch no. Then I recalled how Harthon disliked Aric’s affections toward me.
“Be my guest.”
Was it petty? Yes. Was it dangerous to allow his hands so close to my neck? Absolutely. But perhaps this would make him stop questioning whether I was the magvis.
His fingers cupped my cheeks carefully, tilting my head to bring my eyes into the light. “Absolutely beautiful,” he breathed.
Harthon was mere paces behind him, no doubt ready to snap the Princeps’ neck if he showed any threat.
Always protecting me. Yet he plays with my heart and insults me.
“What causes them to do this?” Aric asked.
“Power,” I said simply, meaning it. Because then and there, my anger was power. Eventually, it might break me down, but that would come later.
“Marvelous.” He nodded toward Stefano. “Why train when you have so much power?”
An easy question to lie my way through. “I don’t want my power to be my only defense. Human methods have some value, but I haven’t had a teacher until recently.”
“While you are in excellent hands, I’m sure, I’m also an experienced teacher. If you’re looking for a different perspective, I would be happy to share some skills while you’re here.” Without any endearments or compliments, it seemed to be a sincere offer.
I smiled a little, taking far too much pleasure in saying, “That would be valuable.” Harthon’s hand twitched by his side. Hours ago, he’d called me na?ve, but he was the na?ve one if he thought I would simply swallow his horseshit. “Why don’t we begin now?”
Aric turned toward Harthon, giving him the opportunity to object, and for the first time since he arrived, I found his face. He’d already found mine, eyes glaring with warning. Then that warning dissolved into wooden coolness, and he shrugged, like he couldn’t care less what we did.
Aric grinned and shook his hands out, backing away several steps. Harthon dismissed Stefano from the room and found a home against the wall, arms crossed like he was observing any other trainee.
Skies, he was trying so damned hard to not care.
“We’ll start without weapons. Let me see what I’m working with.” Aric settled into an easy stance, hands lifted. “Come at me.”
I did. And he was as fast as I expected.
Charging him, I attacked with a familiar combination, every one of my hits met with an impenetrable block. I sent another, this one more complex, and nearly made contact with his side before dancing back.
“Not bad,” he complimented, circling me. “Now, I’m going to hit back. Nicely, of course.”
I feinted with a jab, coming up high with a kick when he dodged.
He easily absorbed the blow and sent a fist at my face.
Ducking, I came back up with a counter. He caught it in his hand, so I did the opposite of what he expected and pushed forward, driving with my knee.
He smiled when I met his abdomen and released my fist.
“I liked that.”
Again, he waved me forward. This time, I wound up sprawled on the ground from a kick to my belly. Harthon pushed off the wall.
Aric extended a hand. “Are you alright?”
“Great.” I grasped his hand, yanked, and sent my fingers for his throat.
He lurched away just in time, pleasant surprise painted across his features. “I do love a woman who fights dirty.”
A surge of displeasure rolled across the room.
I offered Aric a sly grin. “Then you’ll be a fan of me.”
“Already am, love.”
My next attack ended with me wrapped in his arms, my back to his front, Harthon directly in my line of vision. He was trying desperately to remain objective, face held in smooth lines, but his body nearly vibrated with the effort.
I relaxed into the hold, peering over my shoulder at Aric. “Smooth.”
I slipped a foot behind his knee and jerked as I sent my head back.
I spun out of his embrace, panting with the effort.
He swung for my face, and I ducked, coming back up with a fist just in time to see him dive for my legs.
He clenched and lifted, and I went airborne for a heartbeat before meeting the ground.
He’d pulled the tackle, but the air still whooshed from my lungs, loud enough for Harthon to hear.
He jolted forward a step.
But I was already flat on my back, Aric resting over my hips, his hands pinning mine to the ground. “What scrappy method do you have for getting out of this?” he goaded, looking rather comfortable.
Whatever tendrils of restraint Harthon held snapped. “That’s enough.” His voice was a harsh growl, ripping from his throat.
Staying right where he was, Aric gradually straightened. With leisurely movements, he glanced at Harthon, then me, waiting for direction.
“We aren’t done,” I told him loudly.
“If Aric wishes to receive any game from our Territory, you are,” Harthon threatened, eating the distance between us in long, pissed-off strides.
“Sorry, my dear. I need that game,” Aric said with a wink. He removed himself and offered me a hand as Harthon arrived, a thundering storm cloud of aggression.
“You won’t lay another hand on her,” Harthon snarled softly, any semblance of his hard-held control gone.
I stared at him, mouth agape.
What was wrong with him? Turning into a barking, territorial dog in front of the Princeps? His image was built on control and power and a steeled attitude, yet here he was, cracking at the seams over a man touching me, only hours after he’d spited me.
With a pointed glare at him, I accepted Aric’s hand. “As such a skilled fighter, you know better than anyone that training involves hands, Harthon.”
I didn’t know it was possible for his jaw to grow any tighter.
“The magvis and I have something to discuss,” he said to Aric, though his eyes never left mine. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
At least he had enough sense to save some of the show for ourselves.
Looking entirely bemused, Aric backed away, but not before winking at me over Harthon’s shoulder. For Domus’ sake.
The door closed, and a rigid finger pointed at me. “You aren’t training with him.”
Oh, no he didn’t.
I stepped right into his chest. “You aren’t my keeper. I train with whoever I want.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sneering, I said, “Watch. Me.”
I spun away to find Aric. Quick as a whip, Harthon snagged my arm and hauled me against him.
I sent my skull back, and he just ate the blow. A foot swept mine away and I went down, his body right on top of mine, and then Harthon was straddling me, shackling my wrists to the ground.
Unlike before with Aric, the position sent far too many sensations ricocheting through my body. Fury was at the forefront.
“What is wrong with you?” I exploded.
A vein throbbed in his neck.
“You domineering ass!” I jerked my hands, but they didn’t move. An inferno blazed inside me. “You make no sense. You don’t get to suddenly act like a stranger, and then lose your mind like a territorial animal when another man touches me!”
He lowered his face and hissed, “If you had a tactical mind, you’d realize I’m making perfect sense. We do not know Aric’s true motivations. Training with him is a reckless risk. Need I remind you, we need you alive and functioning to bring us into the Domus.”
My teeth ground so hard, I feared one might crack. “I’m well aware of my only purpose to you. It’s been clear from the very first day we’ve met. Hasn’t changed.”
His nostrils flared, eyes darting around my face.
Tell me, I wanted to demand. Tell me what’s actually going through that head of yours, what changed. And yet I couldn’t say the words, because I was too damn angry, and the look on his face suggested he’d only throw them back in my face.
With a jerk, he released me and stood. “Stefano,” he bellowed.
I shoved to my feet as Stefano’s head appeared through the door.
“Take her back to her room,” he ordered, stalking away, “and keep her the fuck away from Aric in her free time.”
If I was stronger or bigger, I would have chased him across the room and taken him to the ground—showed him exactly what I thought of his boorish behavior.
Savoring that daydream, I looked at Stefano. “You should keep me away from Harthon too, unless you want your Princeps to lose important parts of his body.”