Chapter 10 Seren
Chapter ten
Seren
My fingers drummed a steady beat against my thigh, muscles quaking with nervous energy. I should have felt excitement or mild interest, at the least, but instead I fought down the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
I was to be promoted to Guardian of the Third Order that evening, along with Lili Barta and a few other Guardians in my cohort.
I dreaded the formality. To be paraded across a stage and granted favor by my superiors seemed unnecessary and garish.
I wished to be their weapon, not their show pony.
There was no doubt that they felt similarly, but the ceremony was, regrettably, unavoidable.
Discomfort continued to swirl in my gut, and I thought, surely, sparring would ease the strain. It must, for I had no other way to release this tension.
I fastened my armor with practiced efficiency and inspected my weapons.
I tidied my braids and my bed. It was the last time I would ever sleep in this room, as each order of Guardians dwelled in separate quarters.
With a final, lingering glance, I left another piece of myself behind and stepped out into the courtyard.
Duties had been suspended for the day, yet the training grounds remained flooded with bodies.
Ceremony days were famous amongst the Guardians due to the rare opportunity they provided to rest and imbibe, but habits were hard broken, and it was not uncommon to find half the cohort sparring, regardless.
My eyes scanned the field, searching for someone to challenge. I spotted Guardian Barta bouncing on her heels—a force of contagious energy—as she practiced her positions.
Lili noticed me and waved enthusiastically. “Seren!”
I turned away.
Lili was the only one of my fellow Guardians who still hoped to befriend me.
I wondered how many more declined invitations it would take for her to finally turn her back on me as the others had.
I wondered what it might be like to have a friend like Lili.
My eyes squeezed shut against the thought.
It was dangerous for me to even consider it.
At the far end of the grassy stretch stood a man, solemn and alone. His armor shone dully under the cloud leaden sky, and try as I might, I could not place where I had seen him before.
Dust stirred beneath my tread as I approached.
A slant of golden sunlight broke through the din, gilding him in endless warmth.
His brown hair gleamed where it curled across his forehead, strands tucked behind his ears, the ends barely brushing the top of his neck.
Brown eyes turned molten, depthless, and they caught on me as I drew closer.
His light brown skin was glowing, smooth and flawless save for two small scars—one across the bridge of his nose and the other brushing his upper lip.
Firelit warmth on a cold night, I thought, unbidden.
He tilted his head, the hint of a smile playing on his full lips. His hand curled around the hilt of his sword, drawing it ever so slowly, teasingly, in challenge. I drew my weapon with quick efficiency, not bothering to go along with his attempt at playfulness.
“I, Guardian Seren Corso of the Second Order, challenge you to a bout. First to yield forfeits. Do you accept these terms?” I began to circle him slowly, sizing up the grip he held on his weapon, the stance of his feet.
His grin widened and the effect was altogether too distracting. I wrenched my gaze from his mouth.
“Undoubtedly, I do,” he said, voice brimming with mirth. His wrist flexed, sending his blade spinning in a dramatic arc before settling into a proper fighting stance. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Seren. My name is Harkin.”
His lack of formal introduction surprised me, but I sloughed off any lingering thoughts as we rounded each other—eyes locked and weapons raised.
Dust swirled about our feet as we moved.
The earth was still dry, but the morning air was a warm, muggy presence hanging over us.
It foretold the coming of rain, and the clouds from the east approached in agreement.
Harkin wielded his weapon lazily, swiping just shy of my shoulder as I pivoted. I feinted then lunged, blade arcing from my hip through the air. He parried, steel ringing in my ears as his sword clashed against mine.
We both retreated, thoughtful. I regarded him warily, searching for any weakness or tells, and he regarded me similarly. The smug grin never left his severe mouth.
I flashed a brilliant smile of my own.
Harkin stilled, eyes widening the slightest fraction, and the tip of his sword dropped.
I leapt into the opening he had created. My sword arced down upon him, whistling with warning, and he only just managed to deflect the blow. Our attacks became a flurry of movement and sound—dodges and strikes and heavy breaths.
We met each other blow for blow, each of us with determined skill and precision. A cacophony of ringing metal echoed through the yard, and I forgot the world around me. My quaking eased and my heart steadied. There was nothing but this fight with this man.
I lost myself to the back and forth, the tensing and straining of my muscles, and the brutal dance of swordplay. I forgot—for a moment—the loneliness that gnawed at my heart. Fighting him gave me the feeling I had been chasing for so long.
Harkin’s blade twisted against mine, and I was forced to take a step back. He leaned in close to me, and I noted the sweat forming at his brow as it did on mine. My eyes caught on his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. Our bodies were almost touching by the time I remembered to move.
His free hand curled around my bicep, pulling me back to him as he whispered in my ear. The curve of his mouth brushed against my skin. “Let’s place a wager.”
“And what wager would that be?” I pulled away, and he released his grip on me. His fingers dragged down the length of my arm, achingly slow.
“If you win, I’ll do anything you ask.” Harkin’s lips were quirked but behind his eyes was something stony. I narrowed mine in response.
“Obviously, I’ll win. Shall I give you my request now?” I smirked, eyes trailing up the length of his body as I circled him—once, twice. He nodded in feigned consideration.
“You think on that request, just in case, but if I win…” Harkin stepped past my guard in a sudden movement I had not anticipated.
He stopped at my side, head tilted to the left to gaze down at me.
His fingers brushed my chin so, so softly, and I swallowed.
“If I win, you’ll show me your mágik. Put on a little show for me, right here in front of your fellow Guardians. What do you say?”
I stilled, mind whirring as I processed the words he had just said. I tried to pull away, but his fingers dug into my jaw, his softness a false memory. “Who are you?”
“You forgot my name already? Pity. I introduced myself not ten minutes ago.” Harkin released his hold on me and stepped back, slowly sheathing his sword as he did.
“My name is Harkin Aranti. I can see the confusion on your face, but I know you’re intelligent so I won’t play games.
I am not a Guardian. I’m sure you’ve already gathered that. ”
I won’t play games. I would have laughed from the absurdity of it all, had the breath not left my body.
My eyes darted around the courtyard, seeking a commander, an instructor, anyone who might notice the situation I now found myself in.
Harkin tutted. “None of that, Seren. You can handle this on your own. You are more than capable, and besides, I have no interest in harming you. In fact, I want you to respect me. I hope you'll even trust me someday. So, this challenge continues. I’ve seen how you respond to competence so I will earn your respect by besting you in this fight, and when I win, all you have to do is show me what mágik you have hidden beneath that armor.”
Harkin trailed his fingers right down the middle of my breastplate, then back up, settling just over my heart with the firm rap of bone on steel. He stepped back, arms spread wide as if unconcerned by the blade I raised between us.
My heart pounded a wild rhythm, hands trembling. My breaths came up short as I tried to force the panic down and the air into my tightening lungs. My racing thoughts were uncontrollable.
Nearly a full minute had passed before I managed a response. “I have no mágik. How dare you accuse me of such heresy.”
“Hmm. Well, that is simply untrue, but I suppose I can forgive you. Perhaps you didn’t know the truth, but surely you’ve had an inkling.
A rush of strength you couldn’t identify?
Some unexplainable occurrence when you let your emotions take control?
” The memory of the faucet rose within me, the way the water had latched to my retreating fingers. But I could not think of that now.
My panic passed, replaced with cold anger. Harkin was the enemy. I didn’t know how he had infiltrated the Guardians, nor where he had conceived such ridiculous notions about me, but I did know that it was my responsibility to dispose of the threat he posed.
I rocketed forward, sword biting at Harkin’s exposed torso.
He did not block or dodge, only watched me with that same half grin.
My satisfaction rose as the tip of my blade sank home, but the feeling was quickly replaced with shock.
An impossible resistance fought against me, and I strained with the force of it.
My sword did not slice into his gut as it should have.
Instead, it was held in frozen suspension, a mere whisper from his body.
“Surely, you did not think it would be so easy. I plan to win this wager, after all.” Harkin drew closer, smiling—still smiling. I was driven back, the pressure on my blade too strong for me to fight against.
“Rázuri,” I whispered, tasting venom on my tongue. “Feel free to say your prayers while I call upon the Gryffem to drag you to the Underworld.”
I struck again, only to find my blade wrenched from my grip by some invisible force. My fingers ached where they bent, sharp against the pounding in my skull. Steel landed in the dirt with a dull thud.
Harkin had not moved, but his brown eyes danced in enjoyment.
He turned his head, glancing around the training grounds, and a look of disappointment crossed his face.
I followed his gaze and noted, with a pang of fear in my belly, that nearly all of the Guardians had cleared away, likely on their way to enjoy their afternoon off duty.
I had not made one step toward him before I found my body locked in place. A rush of swirling cold blanketed my skin, pulling my hair loose from its braid. I could not move, aside from the smallest twitch of my fingers.
“I think I’d like to change the terms of our wager.
You see, I have no desire to hurt you, but I have you in a rather compromising position.
” Harkin reached out with steady fingers.
He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear.
I tried to jerk away from the contact but found that I could not.
“Use your mágik to free yourself, and I’ll honor it as your win.
You don’t need to beat me into submission.
You just need to move. It’s an excellent deal.
Rather generous of me to offer, really.”
“And if I want to beat you into submission?”
Harkin hummed a pleased sound, low in this throat. “Move.”
His final word was a command that I could not obey.
I thrashed to no avail. My fear was an anvil in my gut, and the training field was truly empty now.
There would be no one to save me. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to think this through.
I sagged, hoping he believed me compliant.
“I’ll show you my mágik if you release me. ”
“So cute. I appreciate the attempt. Although, it wounds me that you would undermine my intelligence when I have thought so highly of you.” Harkin shook his head in feigned upset, but it faded just as fast. “I will release you, though. I have one more trick up my sleeve… but I’d rather enjoy an audience for that.
” With a smile that was all sharp teeth, Harkin turned and strode away.
He sent one quick glance over his shoulder. “Good luck at your ceremony tonight.”
As he disappeared into the distance, I felt the restraints slip away. I stumbled, landing on my hands and knees as I attempted to steady my ragged breathing. Humid air filled my lungs, dreadfully wrong. My heart squeezed, and a rising feeling of incompetence threatened to choke me.