Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
T he next morning, Adriel was once again waiting outside my door.
He’d brought a small basket of boiled eggs and slices of pickled herring wrapped in waxy cloth.
I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an upgrade from yesterday’s breakfast or not, but I devoured it all in a matter of minutes and had to take some extra time scrubbing my hands to rid them of the stench of fish.
Gaeldric was already waiting in the courtyard when we arrived. To my relief, he didn’t ask me to practice freezing the water in the fountain but rather presented me with a row of flat stones.
I was meant to use a levitating rune to stack them, one on top of the other. This task proved even more infuriating than the freezing rune, and when Adriel reappeared a few hours later, I was sweating and swearing under my breath.
“I’ll take it from here, Gaeldric,” said the royal guard.
The old man heaved a sigh. “I do hope she proves more adept at hacking people to death.”
“We all have our talents,” Adriel replied as Gaeldric turned and strode out of the courtyard without another word.
The Morkahlf raised his eyebrows. “You must be doing well.”
I shot him a filthy look.
“I’m serious. He likes you. If you were truly hopeless, he wouldn’t have shown up to train you today.”
I glanced toward the arched doors through which Gaeldric had disappeared. Perhaps I should have taken that as encouragement, but Adriel’s comment felt hollow. In the hours I’d spent trying to levitate the stones, all I’d managed to do was make one of them wobble.
“Let’s go,” he said. “You’re with me for the afternoon.”
“For what?”
“Training.”
“What about lunch?” I blurted. Surely my pitiful attempts at levitation had at least earned me lunch.
Adriel smirked. “I wouldn’t advise it. It’ll only be making a reappearance once we begin.”
He turned and started back toward the house, and I scrambled after him.
“ You’re going to train me?” I demanded, hurrying to keep up with his long strides as he led me back toward the training room.
“Yes.”
This time, when he threw open the heavy double doors, I saw that the room had been reverted to its original state. No windows. Thin straw mats. Wooden training dummies positioned along one wall.
“Why you?” I asked.
Surely the royal bastard would have preferred to train me himself. Not that I was complaining. I had no intention of breathing the same air as Kaden.
“Because I’m the best.” There was no hint of arrogance in Adriel’s voice. He stated it as if it were a simple fact.
I rolled my eyes as he crossed to the wall to the right of the door, and my jaw nearly hit the floor.
Unlike the first time I’d trained in here, the wall was full of weapons: longswords, short swords, scythes, daggers, spears, and axes glittered from racks. The blades were all crafted from a strange dark metal and looked as though they’d been recently sharpened.
“Aside from Kaden, I’m the most lethal warrior on either side of the veil.”
“Modest, too,” I muttered.
“I had no choice,” he said, reaching out and selecting a beautiful sword with a braided metal pommel and a comfortable-looking leather wrap along the hilt. “When you are neither demon nor fae, you are bound to find an enemy at your back just as another is aiming for your front.”
I opened my mouth to ask Adriel what a Morkahlf was, but instinct had me biting back the question.
“Your aim with a dagger is good.” He flipped the sword and caught it by the blade, offering it to me hilt-first. “Let’s see how you fare with something bigger.”
A shiver ran through me as I accepted the weapon.
I’d been itching for a fight ever since I’d learned the truth about Kaden. My body ached to swing a sword — to clash blades with a worthy opponent.
Then again, Adriel was the prince’s royal guard. He could likely cut me to ribbons with one hand tied behind his back. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so eager .
“Unless you’d rather use wooden practice swords,” he said.
“N-no,” I managed, my voice coming out half an octave higher than usual.
I wouldn’t admit to being nervous, even if it killed me. Besides, I was confident that the Morkahlf could do plenty of damage with a wooden blade if he wanted to hurt me.
“I’ll go easy on you,” he said gruffly, taking up another sword and stepping into a fighting stance.
I narrowed my eyes and gave a few practice swings, getting to know my weapon. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”
Adriel cracked a lopsided grin, and something about the playfulness in his expression allowed my muscles to relax.
Though I was used to fighting with two short swords, swinging this one felt surprisingly natural. It was lighter than it looked, the blade perfectly balanced. Besides the witchwood dagger, it was probably the finest weapon I’d ever held.
“Ladies first,” he said, urging me forward.
I didn’t hesitate. I lunged.
Adriel easily parried my strike and advanced with a jab of his own. The movement was strong and sure, but I blocked and swung again, delighting in the clash of our blades.
It had been too long since I’d fought with a sword — too long since I’d felt my muscles strain to match an opponent’s strength.
I struck again, but the royal guard blocked, his feet moving in tandem with his weapon.
Slowly, we circled on the mat. A dance to learn one another’s style.
I wouldn’t give him the chance .
Sweat beaded along my hairline as I quickened the pace of my blows. High, low, and then low again.
I came at him with a merciless sequence of strikes, switching up the angle of my attacks, but Adriel never gave any ground. He worked his blade as if it were an extension of his body, calmly deflecting each of my blows and countering with clean, economical strikes.
There was nothing flashy or overdone in his style. Every strike was calculated. Precise. He never overcommitted, nor did he expend any unnecessary effort.
I feigned and then jabbed, trying to find an opening, but Adriel met each stab of my blade as if he were sparring with a child.
After a while, my arm began to ache, unused to the longer weapon. As if he sensed my body weakening, the Morkahlf went on the attack.
He invaded my space with one powerful lunge, slicing toward my neck. I blocked him — barely — but rocked onto my heels, forced into a clumsy retreat.
Adriel didn’t stop, and he didn’t hold back. I felt his strength in every clash of our blades as he rained down strike after strike.
Panic and frustration clawed at my insides as he drove me across the mat. Sweat poured down my back as I fought to keep his steel from my throat, yielding inch after precious inch.
My biceps and forearm were starting to cramp. I couldn’t think — couldn’t counter his attacks. All I could do was keep my sword moving to beat back his vicious blows.
Then my grip on the handle slipped, sending his blade skidding off the edge of my own. I hissed as I felt the hot slice of steel, blood trickling from the wound .
Ignoring the cut, I switched to my left hand, but Adriel lowered his weapon.
“Not going to finish me off?” I seethed, blood still streaming from my wound and dripping onto the mat. I needed a bandage — badly.
Adriel ignored the question.
“You fight well,” he said, his brow knitting in a clinical expression. “But your strikes are too tight.” He stepped back and slashed his blade through the air in a stiff, jerky strike. “It causes you to tire quickly, costs you speed, and prevents you from using your full range.”
Defensiveness roared through me at his assessment, but I kept my mouth shut.
“You never leave yourself open, but it means you never fully commit to your strikes.”
“It’s kept me alive so far.”
Adriel raised an eyebrow. “Did you ever think you’ve stayed alive despite your fighting style rather than because of it?”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. “No.”
He dipped his chin. “Let’s go again, and this time, focus on using your range to get inside my guard.”
Annoyed as I was, I took the Morkahlf ’s words to heart. He was easily the most skilled swordsman I’d ever encountered, and I couldn’t argue with the points he’d made.
When we faced each other a second time, I focused on keeping my shoulders loose and elongating my strikes — throwing everything I had into each one.
I stumbled once or twice when Adriel countered my attacks, but he didn’t go for the killing blow. Instead, he gave me a moment to regain my footing and try again. My injured arm burned with every twist and strike, but my enhanced hunter healing was already at work, staunching the flow of blood.
Once it seemed that Adriel had no intention of killing me, I allowed myself to experiment with a few offensive combinations I’d seen him use.
When I delivered an angular thrust followed by a double backhanded flick to set up my next strike, I could have sworn I saw a flash of approval in his eyes.
But I didn’t have time to analyze it. Kaden’s royal guard was relentless, and I had to keep my blade moving or risk another cut.
I continued to practice with my more open stance until Adriel, too, was sweating. He disarmed me a few minutes later, sending my borrowed sword skittering across the mat before lowering his own weapon.
“Better,” he said, running a hand through his damp copper locks. “It got a little sloppy there toward the end, but you’re more dangerous when you loosen up.”
He tossed me a towel from a stack by the wall, and I used it to mop the sweat from my face.
“That’s it for today. We’ll meet again tomorrow after your lesson with Gaeldric.”
I gave a stiff nod, too exhausted to argue. As much as I disliked my broody prison guard, I couldn’t deny that he had a lot to teach me.
Arms trembling from our sparring session, I allowed Adriel to lead me out of the training room. My body and mind were completely spent, and I was already fantasizing about a long, hot bath in my chambers.
But just as I stepped out into the corridor, I felt a familiar prickle along the back of my neck. Deeply unsettled, I turned to find Kaden leaning against the wall, wearing a fiendish grin.