Chapter 14 #2
“No, I shouldn’t,” I answer. “There’s somewhere I need to go after we raid Olin’s tomb.” The swinging sign marking the adventurers’ guild headquarters flits through my mind. At least their ventures are legal.
Nikolai claps me on the back, but it’s as gentle as his smile. “I understand. It’s not the life for everyone. If you ever change your mind, let me know, and I’ll put in a good word with the boss. You look like someone who could use a place to belong.”
His words echo within me as I excuse myself. Someone who could use a place to belong. They fall back into their easy banter, and I wonder how he could possibly know.
A rhythm of claps and thuds echoes from inside the training room as I push the door open. The smoky aroma from the oil lamps greets me, along with the sharp scent of sweat and worn leather. As my gaze falls on Desmond, I stop in the doorway.
He’s on the floor, a firm mat unrolled beneath him.
His palms slam against the mat with every push-up, but my lips fall open when he claps at the height of every repetition, as if he refuses to obey gravity.
The bulging muscles of his upper arms stretch and contract, and the firm, diamond-shaped plane of his back squeezes with every steadfast exhale.
A sheen of sweat glows on his scarred skin, a strangely intimate sight that flushes my cheeks.
After the final push-up, he doesn’t even pause for breath.
He pushes himself to his feet, reaches for a pitcher on the chair beside him, and tips his chin up.
Cold water spills down his hair and face, tracing paths along his neck.
Rivulets run down the sharp valley of his collarbone to the flexed planes of his chest, following every contour like lines on a map.
The drops gather on the dark trail of hair below his stomach, and he wipes them off with a towel that he then folds over the back of the chair.
When his gaze snaps on mine, I have to remind myself to breathe.
“You’re late,” he says.
I force my throat to work. “Finnian introduced me to Nikolai. He’s nice. Everyone here is. You’d think they were a hospitality guild instead of thieves.” I pause as I approach him. “Everyone except for you and Auri, anyway.” Luckily, she’s nowhere in sight.
Amusement flits across Desmond’s face. “It pays to be welcoming when most of their business comes from contracts like the one I made with them. Auri is slow to warm up to anyone. You have to earn her respect. As for myself. . .” He strides toward me and assesses me from head to toe with a focus that makes me shiver.
“Haven’t I been nice? That doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you. ”
“Good. I want to learn.” Once the words are out of my mouth, I realize how much I mean them.
I was too close to losing against the draugr wight, too close to losing Evie.
I can use every lesson Desmond has to offer.
What he said yesterday echoes as a promise within me.
A Gift is defined by how you use it. Power isn’t born. It’s made.
“Then let’s start with lesson one.” He sits down on the chair, leans back, and kicks his legs out. “Thirty push-ups.”
I raise a brow at him. “Why? That’s not a lesson.”
“Battles don’t wait for the late.” He nudges the mat with his foot. “Argue, and it’ll be fifty.”
Swallowing back a retort, I drop to my hands and knees. He watches me during every repetition, even as he drinks another sip of water.
At least all the farm work has toned my arms. I finish and roll up to my feet.
Desmond teases his bottom lip. He swallows, then stands. “Let’s start with your form.”
As he walks me through defensive stances, teaches me how to jab and punch without losing balance, and corrects my form with surprising gentleness, I realize he’s not telling me how to use my Gift to fight. After two hours of drilling me through the basics of hand-to-hand combat, I finally cave.
“Why aren’t we focusing on my Gift?” I ask, slumping into the chair to catch my breath. Desmond hands me the pitcher of water, and I drink.
He takes it back from me and drinks from the same spot my lips lay, but nothing in his expression suggests that he’s noticed. “That’s something you need to figure out yourself,” he says. “No one knows your Gift better than you. All I can do is give you ideas.”
“Then give them to me.”
“That would be going easy on you.” He smirks. “We’ll practice with blades tomorrow. Right now, we need to work on your strength.” Yet he pauses, then beckons me to follow him into the hall.
I’ll take whatever break I can get.
Except when I step into the hall, a too-familiar smile makes me debate turning around.
Rune Erickson looks the same as Norwynhald, with half of his black hair swept into a bun and his short beard perfectly trimmed. His teal eyes are bright, sparkling like sapphires.
He winks at me. “Did you miss me, darling?”
“Not a chance.” A lump rises in my throat. Desmond warned me not to tell anyone about my family, but the master of the thieves’ guild has already seen Evie. Despite his smile, something about the way he holds himself warns that he is not a man to be trifled with.
Love, power, wealth, I remind myself as I force a matching smile. However dangerous he is, you always have the upper hand if you know what your foe desires.