39. Spar With Me
Aleiraah
I’m halfway through my training session with Zenith when I suddenly get that prickly feeling––the unmistakable weight of a gaze.
The training area is located outdoors at the southeast corner of the castle. Surrounded by small rocky outcroppings and dotted with little copses of trees. A sanctuary shielded from the view of regular castle-dwellers.
But the secret seven have somehow managed to bypass palace security and are shamelessly ogling me while I spar with Zenith, swinging my double-edged battle axes.
A clang reverberates through the air as his sword connects with the edges of my axes. We both jump back at the same time, and I mutter–– “What the fuck are they doing here?”—not sparing them a glance.
Zenith flicks his sword in an upward swing and I lock it between my axe blades. We circle each other until I'm facing the seven sins I willfully committed in my three hundred years of existence.
My belligerent glance slides right off them. They observe me with rapt attention, eyes full of awe and astonishment.
I can understand their fascination since I rarely dueled in the decade I've been married. And when I did, it was mostly with my rapier. Seldom did I use a sword and certainly never such wicked battle axes.
Leaning forward I put my weight behind my blades and Zenith arches back to escape the sharp edge. Letting out a cry I swing my axe in an upward arc and a sliver of his collar flutters to the ground. I stumble back, horrified. "Oh shit! Did I hurt you?"
He suddenly points his sword near my throat and tilts his head with a grin. "Never let your guard down in a fight, Aleiraah. Until it's officially over."
Several growls erupt from the unwanted audience, and Zenith straightens, sheathing his blade.
"Touché!" I scowl.
"That was actually pretty good. You've almost mastered the use of dual battle axes. We can now focus on your auxiliary weapon, the crescent-edged throwing disc. Have you named it like I asked you to?"
Nodding in response, I detach the circular disc from my leather belt, gripping its edge. I study the gleaming circular weapon forged of enchanted metal.
It's razor-sharp along the outer edge with a smooth inner edge, designed to be gripped and thrown with deadly precision. Sleek and deceptively simple, it glints in the sunlight.
It feels more than a weapon—like an extension of my will.
"Try throwing it, but don't call it back yet." Zenith instructs.
With a flick of my wrist, it whistles through the training arena, ricocheting off stone surfaces and tree trunks.
"Now." Zenith breathes and I shout, "Mooncleaver!"
Immediately the disc changes its course and returns to my raised open fist like a loyal beast. Its perfect balance and aerodynamic form a marvel of dwarves' craftsmanship.
Ifrinn rushes closer in the next heartbeat sounding anxious, "Let Azael examine it, Aleiraah. We don't want a repeat of the Chain of Chastity."
I whirl on him holding the outer edge of the disc to his throat. He tilts his head back to avoid being cut.
"Stay out of my business, tentacle-boy!" I bark through clenched teeth.
"Not when it can harm you." He retorts stubbornly.
"Not your job anymore to protect me from harm, Ifrinn Darkwhim." I bare my teeth at him and he flinches at the underlying rage in my voice.
Adopting a different tactic he quirks a brow, "Are you spoiling for a fight, my Flame?"
It’s irritating as fuck that he can still get a raise out of me. I was in my zen mode until they walked in like they owned the place.
"Can you keep up?" I sneer and for a moment hurt flashes in his coal black eyes, but he covers it with a cocky smile. "Spar with me sweet, and we'll see how much I can keep up, hmm?"
It'd be fun to bash his skull in I guess.
I hook Mooncleaver on my belt and pick up my battle axes. "You’re on, in three...two...one." I fly at him as two flaming Norse battle axes materialize in his hands.
"Don't worry, the flames won't hurt you." He says softly while the flames lick at my hands. Strangely, they don't burn my skin.
We clash and move around the training ground. I can sense Rinn holding back with his parries, which angers me. Condescending asshole!
I start attacking with doubled the force and he starts speaking, voice tight with guilt, while shielding against my blows.
"I love you, Flame. Please believe me. I know I hurt you.
Turned others against you. Didn't protect you while you were crying out for my help.
I lost myself for a while. Blinded by prejudice, and swayed by what others kept whispering in my ear.
But I'm working on becoming better. For you, for us. "
"Shut up and fight!" I shove him off, growing livid with each word.
"I'm sorry, Flame!" He pleads and his apology makes fire course through my veins.
"It's not good enough! You are not good enough! Your fucking version of love sucks!" I shout and charge at him. He again blocks my blows searching my eyes for something, his own filled with pain and doubt.
I can feel my horns and tail emerge, an expression of my wrath.
My claws and fangs lengthen in fury when he still doesn't attack like I want him to.
So I taunt him. "What happened? You're not interested in holding me hostage with your tentacles anymore?
Afraid I'll slice you to pieces? Do you need to be juiced up on the Veilmoon's power to act all righteous and mighty? "
His torso jolts as I place a sudden hard kick against his gut. My blade cuts a thin line against his cheekbone as he ducks away, saving his neck.
His breaths turn ragged, chest heaving as yells "Yes, I was a coward, Aleiraah!
Is that what you want to hear? A slave to my own mind!
My perception of you, twisted by the constant poisonous whispers from my so-called family.
I did the best I could to shove it all aside but seeing that mortal's head between your legs broke something in me too! "
I scoff and he continues being defensive, "I reacted badly but not without reason.
Maybe it was easier for you to overlook my transgressions, knowing that I was violated by a hell-harlot while I was drunk out of my mind.
But in your case, I didn't know that you weren't a willing participant with that mortal! "
"I don't care if you’re willing or unwilling!
You fucking put yourself in that position!
You've let those sluts fawn over you time and again.
And because you couldn't hold your demon brew, I had to live with the knowledge of my husband’s dick getting sucked by another female!
And you didn't even come clean later. You tried to fuck me with your hell-community dick, you cheating piece of scum!
And dared to act petulant when I refused you.
" I screech, throwing a battle axe at him, that he dodges at the last moment.
"You held me down as you all took turns at me! Some mighty males you are! I feel sick even looking at you!" I spit my fury at the rest of them standing at the edge of the arena looking ashen.
I switch my gaze back at Rinn who stares with a raw look of agony in his eyes. "You fucking encouraged Silas when I begged you for help!"
"I'm so, so sorry, Aleiraah." His voice cracks, face crumpling. "I hit him with a sleeping dart as soon as I could." He murmurs quietly, shoulders slumped.
"Do you think that makes a difference? I was already hanging by a thread, you bastard!" I bellow in fury.
"I've no excuse. You're the only good thing in my life, Aleiraah." He whispers, as tears pool in his dark eyes. And I just can't stand that look.
"And you’re my worst mistake!" I scream, mired in my own agony.
Rage burns like a tornado within me and I throw the remaining axe at him. He tries to dodge but the angle is wrong. He deflects it instinctively and it flies toward me.
Rinn's eyes widen in horror, charting its trajectory. As if in slow motion, I hear shouts from all around right as his smoky tentacles shoot out from his back, grabbing and lifting me in the air out of harm's way.
But my own instincts of flight over fight have taken over. Being restrained by the tentacles once more is too much. With a wild cry I throw Mooncleaver in a blind rage.
There's an eerie sound of steel swishing through air before Rinn howls in pain.
The circular disc cuts through his tentacles, dropping me on the ground. I scramble back on my elbows and heels, my breaths whooshing out in frantic pants.
My gaze darts between the males scattered around me, their features frozen in horror. Rinn is writhing in agony with his dismembered tentacles slowly dissipating in smoke.
I feel trapped in my own mind, terror drowning everything else. A mix of past and present casts a haze over my thoughts.
Zenith approaches me cautiously, calling out my name as Azael dives toward Rinn, channeling his healing manna.
A loud whooshing sound takes over my ears. I scramble to my feet, unable to look at anyone and dart into the woods nearby without looking back.
Someone shouts my name but I can't stop running.
The night of the Veilmoon and the present mesh together.
I’m unable to draw enough air into my lungs, my insides tearing apart in unknown agony.
I don't know for how long I run, but when my legs give away, I collapse onto the wet moss sobbing uncontrollably.
There's a sudden chill in the air. Sunlight no longer pours through the dappled canopies above.
There's a ringing in my ear that gets louder.
A sibilant voice keeps chanting my name.
The edges of my vision darken as my throat closes up. Everything turns dark.
Azael
Where the fuck did Aleiraah go?
I focused on Ifrinn for just a moment and she's gone. The terror on her face as she watched us was like a blade between my ribs. I've never seen that look on her face. She seemed to be reliving some horrific memory and I can imagine the one.