Chapter 17 #2
Nadya was wiping the frozen floor with men twice her size, that’s what. She twirled Francisca in a long arc before striking, as if she wanted to inflict more terror than pain.
“Proving you trained them well,” Vylkor grunted, then hesitated. “And how to defend themselves.”
Geryll held onto his shield, shrinking behind it, as a raven-haired boy banged against it with a hateful force not meant for the training grounds.
My growl carried me down the ridge, Vylkor trailing after me, surprised and confused.
“He shouldn’t be here, he hasn’t healed yet,” I seethed.
“He insisted,” Vylkor argued.
The warriors straightened as I passed, fists to their hearts. One by one, the rows snapped at attention, like waves against a massive ship. The younger ones reacted slower, arms shaky, too focused on their sparring partners to notice until the last moment. Some weapons clanked to the ground.
Not ready for war.
Not ready to defend the crater, either, but better than nothing.
The raven-haired boy had his back to me, oblivious to anything other than his target, which he struck again.
Again and again.
My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to pummel him and his mace into the ground.
But I was already toying with fairness by walking up to them.
Judging by the black, luxurious pelts on his shoulders that made him look unjustly wider, this was Fellcrest’s boy.
Dyron, Dykron–
“Dyrak!” one of his friends bellowed.
The Fellcrest boy flinched. Geryll took advantage of his distraction and used his shield to push him away. As he lowered the metal, his red, angry and embarrassed face appeared.
Being my ward demanded respect everywhere else except on the training grounds. Here, speed and strength ruled.
Dyrak cleared his throat and hid his mace behind him, as if that would erase what we’d all just witnessed. He had the gall to smile innocently at me.
Just like his father, who’d cursed the Blood Brotherhood any chance he got before we’d joined, and now couldn’t stop singing its praises.
“Never allow your back to be unprotected,” I said, voice cutting against the wind.
“Yes, sir.” He puffed up his chest. “I’ll do better next time, sir.”
“Perfect,” Nadya’s voice whipped around us. She stepped forward, Francisca held high, gaze wide and ruthless. I almost felt sorry for Dyrak. “Pick on someone your own size, pretty boy.”
“I wasn’t picking, I was training–” Dyrak drawled in a bored, haughty tone, staring down his nose at her.
Then Nadya struck and that smug look of his turned to shock. Then fear.
“Geryll.” I flexed my fingers at him. “I have a job for you.”
He lowered his shield to the side and walked toward me. He tried to keep the pain hidden, but each step made him grimace–and made me ache.
Aware of the curious looks, I dropped my hands onto his shoulders, guiding him away as if we were discussing some grand secret. Geryll sighed in relief and leaned into me as much as his bruised pride allowed.
Thankfully, Nadya’s yell of triumph tore everyone’s eyes away from us.
“He’s such a bully,” he whispered as we reached the edge of the arena.
“He is. Men like that should never be respected.”
“He sensed I was weak,” Geryll spit out. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to tame the sweaty strands.
I held on tighter to his shoulder. “You can’t train until your leg heals–”
“Not now. Always,” he said with the kind of self-loathing I never wished to pass his lips. “What’s the job?”
“Taking you to the infirmary.”
Geryll shoved himself away from me. “I didn’t need you to save me.”
I stared at him, stunned. Geryll had never even raised his voice in my presence until now.
His anger was a palpable, ugly thing. Worst of all, while he tried to direct it at me I sensed it boiled deep within him.
“You don’t shove me,” I said, calmer than my disbelief wanted. “And you don’t talk like that to me. If you have something to say, we speak like men.”
Geryll’s nostrils flared and he looked anywhere other than my face. “You embarrassed me.”
No, I had saved him from getting his ass kicked by a bully. “Then I apologize.”
“I can defend myself, you know?” he said, some of that frightening anger abating.
“I never said you couldn’t. You’re wounded. Wounded warriors have no place in the training arena.”
“I couldn’t be the only one hiding in the fortress.”
“Your leg–”
“Damn my leg,” he burst out once more. “I’ve already made a fool of myself, I don’t need your help with that.”
I frowned, ignoring the fresh cracks in my patience. “When?”
“In the attack.” Even his mutter sounded vicious. “I got wounded.”
“So did Vylkor. So did I. You think we made fools of ourselves?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I just–” He gripped his shield hard, like he wanted to break it. “I need to be better. Grand.”
“You don’t have to be grand in battle,” I said.
“I do,” he said, unrelenting. “It’s what everyone expects of me. My father was one of the best warriors of the land. I should be, too.”
“My father was a philandering fool. Does that mean I have to follow in his dirty footsteps?”
“No, of course not. It’s just…” He sighed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pain that had nothing to do with his leg. “I want to be different.”
I stepped closer to him. When he didn’t flinch away, I placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let the shadows of the past darken your future. Your father was his own man. You will become your own.”
He shrugged, but didn’t move away from my steady hand. “I guess.”
“No more training until you’re healed.”
He nodded, looking miserable, and I felt helpless to break that gloom encasing him. “And Nadya?”
We both looked behind, just in time to see her twist Dyrak’s hand behind his back and whisper something in his ear sinister enough for the boy to gasp.
“Nadya thrives in groups,” I said, as delicately as I could. “I don’t. You don’t have to, either.”
He nodded, but didn't look convinced.
“You and The Huntress…” He shook his head. “You both keep telling me I’m like you, but I don’t feel it.”
“Maybe we see something in you that you can’t. Not yet.”
“I want to see it,” he muttered, so low, I didn’t think he’d meant to utter it.
“Then we’ll work on that.” I tilted my chin and whistled. Everyone on the grounds stopped. “Nadya, Dyrak has had enough. Best let go of his arm before he loses feeling in it.”
“He has no feelings,” she bit out, but let him go with a shove that almost propelled him in the snow. Dyrak righted himself at the last minute. The redness in his cheeks only deepened when his so-called friends began to snicker.
A smile tugged at Geryll’s mouth. “She’s always looking out for me.”
“We need to look after each other.” This dark cloud that had descended upon him needed to be vanquished before it poisoned Geryll’s soul for good.
“I’m sorry I shoved you,” he muttered, scowling at himself. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“Apology accepted as long as you never do it again.”
“I won’t.” He finally looked at me with remorse, yes. But also shame. “I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
I stared at the arena.
At the swords, grunts, and grins. I’d never seen Geryll grin like that while training, not once, not even on the rare occasions when he bested Nadya, who he always compared himself to.
I’d indulged his misplaced desire for battle long enough.
My mind raced, desperate for a solution.
I could command him away from battle, but that would only stiffen his resolve.
I needed to provide an alternative he would gravitate toward.
Geryll was smart.
Attentive.
He had a kind soul that shouldn’t have been hardened, not like this.
Wanted to be like his father so badly, he was willing to risk his life for it–
“I have an idea.” A fleck of one, but it was a start. “How about you come to the Capital with me?”
Geryll lit up, part confused, part hopeful. “Why?”
“Your leg, for one. But they have the best war archives there. I planned on studying them myself, but I doubt I can make the time. Think you can help me?”
Geryll’s eyes narrowed, even as a glimmer danced in them.
I knew he knew I was drawing him away from battle–but the opportunity was too good.
He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, like he was doing me a grand favor. I let him.
“Better than sitting around in the fortress until this–” He bared his teeth at his leg. “–heals.”
“Perfect.” I patted his shoulder, sighing in relief as we walked back to the fortress.
It was short-lived, however.
Now I had to face The Huntress.