Chapter 23
twenty-three
Aelen was angry. He hadn’t said it in words, he didn’t need to.
But I could tell by how he slammed the ladle against the cauldron, or threw the top on in such a racket that it could be heard from any room in the cottage.
Or when he stomped across the rooms, stalking and brooding but refusing to say a single damn word to me.
We’d spent the days since Eltidian in uneasy silence, only broken by his short-lived tantrums.
He was livid, and though he never verbalized it, the emotion rang loud and clear. This wall he built had to end, and if he wouldn’t tear it down, I would. He’d left me no choice.
So at first sun, when he slunk through the door and slammed it behind him, I shattered the quiet.
“What’s got you wound up?”
He glared daggers, freezing. “What’s got me—” he stopped to scoff. “You haven’t spoken to me for three days, and it’s to say that?”
“I haven’t spoken—Aelen, you’ve been ignoring me!”
He stiffened. “I was waiting for you to be ready to speak.” He glared. “You seem ready.”
This time, it was me who scoffed. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“I’m not angry with you. I’m furious.” He stepped closer, yet it felt like a mile between us. “After your little conversation with the leader, he told me you not only asked about me, you asked after falling from the sky if you could take Mourn and jump the gorge.”
“Why wouldn’t I ask? He’s the only thing between me and cleaving this pact—”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re the only thing between you and cleaving this pact. He was right, you’re not ready.”
“I’ve been training with Mourn every night I could make my way to the stables. You’re wrong. I couldn’t be more ready. I have my eye set on my father’s death, and Mourn and I are closer than we’ve ever been.”
“You and the dragon fell from the heavens, and it nearly took your life that day. You think you could face the beast that slaughtered my people?”
I raised my chin and refused to drop my gaze. “I do. What do I need to prove to you and him that I’m ready?”
“Best me, and I’ll go to him right now and demand he allow you to ride back to Ilyatria.”
It was to be good to be true, yet far too tempting. It didn’t matter that he baited me because I couldn’t refuse, and I wouldn’t lose.
“Deal,” I replied, shoving past him to the door. “Let’s waste no more time. I’m ready to bring you to your knees now.”
He laughed a cruel sound: more bait, but this one I wouldn’t take. Soon, I’d be the one laughing.
We made our way out to the stables, but when I went to head to Mourn’s, he slid before me.
“Mourn resides at the back of the training blocks. That’s where the other trainers are most active during the day. It’s safer for us to remain near the front forest. You’ll be facing me in melee range.”
I tried to protest, but he relaxed his shoulders and veiled his smirk with a wave. “Face me yourself, or accept I won’t be bargaining on your behalf. The choice is yours.”
“I will wipe these snowbanks with you.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, princess, he replied, walking to the nearest weapons rack. He pulled out a single short blade and tossed it to me. I caught it, albeit with some difficulty, swinging off balance. Then, he unsheathed a blade at his side and sauntered over, tucking it in my free hand.
“Two blades?”
He nodded, unsheathing a mid-sized sword with a blade like a crescent moon. It gathered the light and then poured it directly into my sight, momentarily blinding me.
“Shit, is that magical?”
“Ever so slightly, but not enough to give me an advantage, I didn’t plan on using the lumen components against you.” He scuffed the snow. “Would you prefer I pick a different blade?”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, my stomach turning that he was cocky enough to use a single blade against my two. “Aren’t you getting another sword?”
He stretched his limbs, his thick muscles tightening beneath his leathers. “No. Didn’t you want to win? Short of lying down on the snow and dying, this is as much as I can hinder myself.”
“You are such an arrogant bastard,” I yelled.
He put some distance between us and readied his stance, holding up the sword till it covered a single eye. “I wouldn’t keep being one if you didn’t love it so much. Raise your blades,” he barked.
Anger flared across my chest, and I bolted forward. The snow was slick beneath me, and I slid with every step but forced myself to remain upright. I wouldn’t lose to him. Not now.
Not ever.
As I neared him, I flashed the sword, but he was faster, ducking beneath and leaving me sprawling into the snow.
“Try again,” he laughed.
I adjusted my feet, widening my stance for a better grip. I was half tempted just take my damn boots off, if the cold wouldn’t eat away my toes.
I need to feel the ground beneath me.
He eyed me, watching me like a careful predator. “You’re learning. Good.”
I gritted my teeth. He was toying with me. “You’re—”
“A bastard, I know. Let’s come up with better insults, shall we?” He tapped his blade to the snow before raising it again, a soft reminder to prepare. “What about infuriating, or enraging?”
I threw myself forward, bolting full speed, this time expecting that he would duck, so while I swung my blade at him, I ran the other along the snow, hoping to catch him off guard. I didn’t expect he’d slide the other way and throw out his foot.
I tumbled to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs, and my weapons thrown into the thick bank. Concern marred his face as he stared down at me. But he quickly settled his features and offered me a hand. “Are you prepared to admit you’re not ready?”
I gasped for air, refilling my burning lungs, and slapped away his hand.
“Never,” I wheezed and shambled to a stand.
My legs were shaky, but I ignored it and gathered up my weapons, their newfound chill biting through the gloves.
“Those aren’t insults. You are an arrogant bastard. It isn’t an insult to speak the truth.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “The truth? I believe the word you’re looking for is cocky. Arrogant people haven’t earned that right, I have. Try again.” Then, he beckoned me.
I took the bait. I did. I know I shouldn’t have, but in that split second, I bolted forward and shot my blades at him.
When he jumped to the other side, I brought my dominant blade down on him, missing him by a hair’s breadth as he slid into the snow.
He never left his feet, which infuriated me more, but from his pursed lips, I could tell it was a close call.
I spun to face him, watching the flurry we kicked up swirl around him and land in his neat hair, framing his unsettled features.
I pointed a blade at him, an unsaid accusation. “You’re a self-righteous knife ear. Holier than thou, yet one of the most unrepentant bastards I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.”
His features hardened, a tinge of anger coating them briefly.
“Ready yourself, Lorelana. You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.
Someone might get their feelings hurt.” When he shot at me, jumping out and flashing his blade, it nearly blinded me.
I ducked and slid away just in time, but the honed edge came within a fingertip of my neck.
My breath hitched as I realized how close it was. “To get their feelings hurt, they’d have to care,” I spat as I raised myself back to my feet. I spent a moment catching my breath. “And from the way you nearly ended me, that’s not a concern of mine.”
“Oh, I care alright, that’s why your head isn’t rolling in the snow.”
“You couldn’t,” I yelled.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
It infuriated me to no end that he was still insistent he had this utter power, this overt skill, and that killing me would be as easy as breathing.
“If you’re so big and bad, then hurry up and be done with it already. I’m tired of this!”
A half-smile crossed his lips like he’d drunk laced wine, and his words spilled out just as deadly. “What a coincidence, so am I.”
Then he bolted for me. I only just managed to roll out of the way, the ache burning through my limbs. But before I readied myself, he barreled for me again, the snow trailing him like an ominous cloud.
I slid to the side, but barely missed the edge of his blade.
Shit.
He was trying to tire me, and must have seen the exhaustion in my face.
He knew I couldn’t keep this up all day, I wasn’t a trained fighter, could only hold my own in small tavern brawls—and usually with knives.
Teeny tiny blades you can stick in someone’s eye when they’re slowed by ale.
But Aelen moved like a predator, almost unnaturally, anticipating my every move and avoiding my blades in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
The only way I’d win this was if I caught him off guard.
So when he sucked in a breath, and came for me, I bolted to him. When he tucked his blade beneath me, where he thought I would slide, turning the hilt out to wallop me, I jumped.
Surprised, he slid forward, giving me enough time to come around and go straight for him. I didn’t dart left or right—I went for his throat. He jumped back, a fingertip away, his blade jutting out, and caught my face.
I was so close and slid to a stop, gulping in air. Metallic spread through my mouth so I spit, crimson bright against the packed snow.
“Shit,” he said, eying me and my dripping mouth. He’d caught me in the lip. It beaded down my chin, but the battle haze pumped through my veins and stole away any pain. I straightened and wiped at it with my sleeve. “You.” I spit again, the taste of blood bitter as belladonna. “Arrogant. Bastard.”
He didn’t have time to react when I took off, the snow cascading in my wake.
Step, step, step brought me closer to him, but he hardly moved.
Only as I neared did he dare to yank up his weapon.
I threw mine out before me, crossing the blades, and hoping I’d make it to his neck, but his metal clashed against mine with a sick sound.
And in a single second my feet left the earth, and I flew back, landing in the snow and knocking the air from me again. This one was harder, more painful and I wrenched out a scream after sucking in air. Aelen was quick, running to my side in a handful of long strides.
He loomed over me, blocking the light like a terrible shadow. My heart thrumming in my ears, the haze still pumping through me.
I caught the flash of a blade, glittering in the sun. I didn’t think, throwing my hands out. Fear poured from my fingertips, shooing a stream of violent blue lumen. It threw him back, and in the haze of kicked-up snow, he disappeared.
I shot up and gasped in air, searching for his form. But I found nothing as I scanned the lifeless ground.
“Lorelana,” Aelen said from behind me.
I swung around, shooting my blade up. It rested against his throat as he leaned toward me, offering a hand. The sword pressed into his flesh, dimpling the tender skin.
He held up his palms. “I yield.”
The blades fell from me, and he urged me to take his hand again. When I shook my head silently, he sighed and gathered me up in his arms.
“I can walk,” I managed as the pounding in my chest finally subsided.
“You’re tired, aching, cold, and bleeding. And all of those are my fault. This is the least I can do.”
“You said you cared.”
His gaze found me, and his arms tightened. “You’ve known that for a long time now. Can you think of a time when I didn’t? I can’t.”
I shifted in his arms, but he adjusted along with me, refusing to release. “I thought you hated me.”
“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” He exhaled, the cloud spreading into the wind. “Hating is easy. You despise your father, and I, mine. But this, whatever this is—is hard.”
Aelen was wrong about so many things, but here he hit the nail on the head. This wasn’t just hard—fighting him, and the cracked wall between us—it was hell.