21. Lucina #2
“The Yard,” he says bluntly, his body tense underneath all the armor. “There’s been a change of plans, and our training can’t wait until tonight.”
“Training?” I start to panic. “But Callan, I—”
“Drained every drop of power to put Ceres in her place? Well aware.” I blink back at him, afraid, but then he adds, “Today’s training won’t be magic-focused, you’ll be fine.”
Callan shifts on the path, putting himself between me and a group of Floras that walk past. Their stares linger on our clasped hands, then instantly they whisper to one another. I know the Captain sees it; he sees everything. But he makes no move to release my hand.
“What change of plans?” I ask.
“I’m leaving tonight.”
“Tonight?” My voice comes out shriller than I would have liked it to.
“Delia approved my plans yesterday, but there is a storm moving across the continent, which will make traveling to Streatham more tedious if we were to wait until next week.”
Fear creeps into my heart, and it feels too potent; he isn’t mine to worry about.
“How long will you be gone?” I ask, stepping to his side when the crowd on the path thickens.
“If all goes well, a week. But if we don’t get what we need before the storm passes, we’ll have to wait it out.” He glances down at me, checking my reaction. “That could mean two weeks, maybe less.”
Two weeks.
And what if three pass? Then four? What if he doesn’t come back at all?
A wave of unexpected nausea hits me out of nowhere. “Why not just wait until the storm passes altogether before leaving Pirn? Why move the mission forward and not back?”
“Our people can’t wait any longer, Lucina.”
I stay quiet.
“Hey.” He pulls me off the path so others can walk by.
I feel the heat of lingering stares as people pass, but that doesn’t stop him from brushing his thumb across my cheek.
“Pax and Hunter are staying behind, and you are their only priority. I’d kill them both if anything were to happen to you.
But I don’t want you to have to rely on them, which is why training today is going to be a little different.
I want you to feel protected even if you’re alone. ”
“Meaning?”
“Hit me.”
I scoff, “No.”
“Come on.” Callan beckons me to swing for the tenth time, folding his hands in and out at me. “I can take it.”
Self-defense. He wants to teach me self-defense. I tried to tell him that Ivy and I took a six-month course last year, and if I hit him, it would hurt, but all he said back was ‘prove it.’
And that’s led us here.
Pax and Hunter stand on the opposite side of the ring, leaning forward casually on the fence post. Callan wants them to watch so they can continue this training while he’s gone.
“Fine.” The Captain stalks forward when I keep my arms crossed over my chest. “I’ll make you hit me.”
His arm juts out and I swing. Hard. My knuckles split as I cut up and under his jaw and when his head snaps back, he’s grinning. “Atta girl.”
I curse when he rushes forward again.
“Please don’t make me hit you twice,” I grit out, managing to stay just out of his grasp, but he moves faster than anything I’ve ever seen.
“I dare you,” Callan taunts, each movement graceful and practiced. “We’ll stop when you break skin.” He thrusts forward, his fingers barely scraping my wrist before I jolt out of his grasp.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap, nearly tripping over my feet as I stumble backwards—
Somehow, he’s there, and he doesn’t miss a beat before snatching my wrist and spinning me to face him. He drags me forward only an inch before my body slides into autopilot, running through motions that I’ve almost forgotten were second nature.
Distract and disrupt posture.
I slam my heel into the top of his boot, and he hitches forward ever so slightly. Then I pull against the hand that holds my wrist, using it as leverage to thrust my knee up and into his gut. He snatches my leg with his free hand, nearly knocking me off balance, but I plant myself in the dirt.
Hit whenever and wherever you can.
I don’t leave time to consider it as my balled fist hits the side of his face with such force that his head snaps to the side and a brutal hiss leaves his mouth.
Callan releases me, and his eyes are wild when they meet mine, his breathing ragged. “Oh, we’re going to have fun, you and I.”
My chest heaves as I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “You’re sick.”
“You’re stunning,” he fires back, stretching out his jaw, and I roll my eyes.
“Cal, I think she’s good on self-defense!” Pax shouts, and I whip around to face him. He’s wearing a thin navy undershirt, no vest, and a pair of jeans. I know he has twin knives in either pocket.
You certainly don’t want to be in front of Pax’s magic, but I promise being in front of his knives is deadlier. I’ve seen him slice through the center of five targets… blindfolded.
“Yeah,” Hunter agrees, his honey blonde hair golden in this light. “No need for us to be punching bags while you’re gone, Cap.” His blue eyes flick to mine, amusement shining there.
I smile, using the edge of my t-shirt to dab my bleeding knuckles, and when I turn back to face Callan, my triumph fades. He unstraps his vest, shrugging it off into the dirt, then he removes the few sheaths locked around his thighs.
“You can throw a damn good punch.” He grabs my hand, inspecting the cuts, then skates across the raw skin with his thumb.
“But ration them, your hands are your greatest weapon, we can’t have them broken and bleeding.
Let out that fury with your knees, your elbows, your feet…
.and save your fists for special occasions.
” Callan looks past me to where the peanut gallery resides.
“And the two of you will be punching bags. You will be whatever she needs.”
Pax and Hunter exchange an uneasy glance, then nod.
“What about illusions and light manipulations?” I ask. “Delia wants to see both at the next meeting.” The meeting he’ll most likely miss.
Callan releases my hand and pushes up the sleeves of his black undershirt. “Hunter will help you master illusions; he’s arguably one of the best in our coven. Pax is going to get you started on light manipulation, and I’ll be back before you know it. If I can make the next meeting, Cin, I will.”
But I don’t want him to leave at all. I don’t want to worry about when and if he’ll come back. I don’t want to just sit here and wonder and wait and fear the worst, not now…because now… I care.
I care enough to consider begging him to stay, and that’s way too pathetic for me to admit out loud.
Callan is…tenacious—constantly pushing me to limits I didn’t know I had. On the most brutal nights, I’ve seriously considered trying to kill him. I’ve considered it more times than I can count. But it feels easier to breathe when he’s here...I can’t explain it.
I wriggle my fingers, stretching out the aching joints.
“While I’m gone, make this second nature.
Make it as easy as breathing or pulling magic to the surface.
I want you to know every different way someone can grab you, then I want you to know your way out of it.
Become attuned, anticipate, trust the feelings you get in your gut, and never hesitate.
Promise me you’ll never hesitate, Chaos. ”
“Worried about me?” I taunt, propping both hands on my hips.
“More than you know.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is painfully…” I take a deep breath, my exhale more like a sigh, “mutual.”
It’s true. I’ll be worried the second he leaves, even though I’ll pretend not to be. I’ll pretend until it becomes real, that way…if he never comes back, it won’t hurt as bad. I hope.
Callan glances once at Pax and Hunter, checking to see if they’re listening. They’re not. “It is?” he asks woefully, and I scowl.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Impossible.” Callan winks, and he’s still smiling when he nods to Pax. “Alright, you’re up.”
“Mothers save me,” Pax grumbles as he stalks towards us and I move to meet him in the center of the ring.
“Don’t go easy on me,” I tell him, and he glances nervously at the Captain. “I’ll never learn if you go easy on me.” I bunch my hair together and fasten it with a tie around my wrist. “Hit me.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Callan warns when Pax raises his fists.
“If he kills me, Cin,” Pax mutters, “it’s your fault.”
Then he swings.