CHAPTER 35 #2
He doesn’t begin slowly like Riah always does, testing my limitations before deciding on her next series of strikes.
The male lunges at me, full force, not an ounce of hesitation in his body.
Only narrowly do I avoid the fist that he intends for my jaw.
It would have sent me to the floor of the ring.
Maybe I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it when a wicked smile breaks upon my face, my blood heating as the tension builds.
This. This is what I’ve been missing.
Toren is quick to strike again, but he leans in too far, failing in his attempt to catch me off guard.
I dodge the strike even as I throw myself toward him, vaulting off his bent knee as I twist my body, sending all the force into my knee as it collides with the side of his head.
The unmistakable sound of bone-on-bone cracks in the air and the male goes down hard.
Riah swears from the sidelines, tensing as if she might jump from where she is seated atop the fence. She stifles a nervous chuckle when Toren shakes off the impact and begins to rise. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but he certainly started it.
The commander grasps the hand I offer, and I help him to his feet, a little surprised when he takes a stance that implies he would like to continue. But then again, so would I.
He seems to have learned his lesson and doesn’t leave himself open for another brutal attack.
He doesn’t pull his punches like the female watching gleefully from her perch on the fence either.
If I was debating letting him land a few blows to throw him off the reality of my abilities, that time has passed.
Almost every swing the male takes promises a break or fracture that I would rather not endure.
I believe we are evenly matched until the dreadful moment when his lips curve up in a sly smile. I know that smile. Words spoken to me countless times in my childhood surface in my mind, unbidden. You’re letting your guard down, Vari.
It’s too late to recover, I know it is. And my blood chills as I block a blow to my side, seeing in the last moment the knee he throws, just as it connects with my thigh.
Something sharp snaps inside me. A bone, my heart, I’m not sure which and both promise to be equally painful until well-tended.
I stuff down the well of emotions that flood me when the locked compartment of my memories is broken open, its contents seeping out to saturate my heart and mind.
A bone. Just a bone. Thank the stars.
I stagger back, wincing as I struggle to catch my breath through the pain, and Riah rushes to my side, a puff of fine silt wafting in the air beneath her feet.
“I’m all right,” I assure her.
When she doesn’t reply, I follow her gaze.
The blood draining from her face is not due to the bruising she will have to explain to Caden, but the sight of the general as he rounds the last of the wild hedges that buffer the palace from the stables.
The male is taking long strides toward us with nothing to slow him down.
I clench my teeth, standing tall as I force weight onto my leg that it can hardly be expected to hold for long.
I have no desire to witness the punishment the general will level on Toren if he finds out that the male has broken a single part of me.
I’m debating how in haliel to maintain the deception when Riah grips my broken leg and I suppress a cry of agony.
“Sorry for this.” It’s the only warning she gives before wrapping her hand around my side and I’m struck by the blinding pain of her mending as it reaches my bone.
My face pales as I suck in a hiss and will my mind not to lose itself to the dark that threatens in the corners of my vision.
Toren watches curiously as I grit my teeth through the brutal healing, my forehead beading with sweat as the bone knits itself back together with an audible crackling pop. The commander doesn’t seem the least bit concerned, though he must be aware by now that the general is nearly here.
I wonder at his calm demeanor. If I know anything about the male stalking toward us it is that he’s likely to gut anyone that so much as bruises me. I’m sure a broken bone would garner a punishment that would make a death sentence seem like mercy.
“Shivaria,” Xeyvian says. I meet his eyes and smile just as Riah releases me.
Stepping toward him, I ignore the familiar sting in my leg. Years of Leanna’s training has done nothing if not prepared me to ignore the pain of breaking. As Riah can only mend bone, not flesh, there will be some small amount of damage left from the blow that she was unable to heal.
I won’t risk asking for Caden, not only is it completely unnecessary, but the general would want a detailed explanation as to what had happened. I let myself out of the ring, swiping my discarded leathers off the ground before the general plants his feet in front of me.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, “I just thought you might like to change and rest before you meet our guest.”
His lips quirk up at the edges as he takes me in and I’m sure I must be quite the sight, though he is kind enough not to tell me just how badly I need a bath.
I’ve completely lost track of time and when I check the sky, the sun is just beginning its descent toward the horizon.
It’s still early in the afternoon. The warm spring days of A’kori getting longer with each setting sun.
Neither Riah nor Toren say a word as they escort us back toward the palace.
But when I look over my shoulder the commander offers me a shallow nod in recognition, his brow drawn down as he considers me more thoughtfully than ever before.
I wonder what the male makes of our time spent sparring. Perhaps in vain, I hope it isn’t much.
Our companions break from our party when we enter the palace and the general leads me back to his room so that I can bathe and dress for the evening.
It’s a feat in itself to conceal the first signs of the large bruise where Toren landed the blow.
But Xeyvian seems more preoccupied than usual, and I have dressed in a deep blue silk gown before he has a chance to notice the mark.
He strokes my hair, looking out the window absentmindedly while I apply coal to my eyes.
“I would like to speak with your king,” I say. It’s perhaps not the thing to say to the male in the moment, and, judging by the look on his face, the request is unexpected.
“That can be arranged,” he says, failing to hide the curiosity roused by my request. “Though I intended to introduce you at the masque.”
“It can wait until then.” I latch on to the last night he offers me by his side.
It’s a selfish delay, and I have no right to waste another day of his life knowing the likely outcome of my future. I tell myself that the party is only one day away and maybe the distraction it presents will help his spirits remain high as I lay my life at the feet of his sovereign.
“Have you decided to seduce him after all?” he asks with a teasing smile. “I’m sure you’d manage the task just fine if you chose to do so.”
I glare at the male playfully. “I would like to thank him for hosting me at the palace.” I pause before adding, “And I would like to ask him for permission to remain with you in A’kori.
” The last is not a lie, and I hope that the declaration that I would stay with him will soften him toward me when he finds out what I am.
It’s a curious look he levels at me. Perhaps it’s skepticism, perhaps apprehension. I’m not entirely sure.
“You intend to stay? For good?” he asks.
“I do.” I smile, and it’s a good thing that I’ve distanced the red lip paint from myself in that moment because the male sweeps me into his arms.
Resting his forehead against mine, he sighs his relief before delivering a kiss to my lips. It’s tender, not rushed or passion driven. It’s soft and sweet, a kiss for remembering a moment that will change the trajectory of our lives.
I brush my fingers down the length of his jaw.
A single lifetime with this male will never be enough.
I shove down thoughts of how he will watch me age, my own youth and beauty ravaged by time while he remains exactly as he is.
Poisonous thoughts spilled into my ears by Siserie, but that doesn’t make them untrue.
His lips brush against my temple as he murmurs, “How did I ever make it this long without you?”
It isn’t really a question, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth, disguising all the cracks of my breaking heart, unable to imagine the pain of our inevitable parting.
It will be death that parts us, wether by the hand of Vos, his king, or time, there will be an end to this.
And that is only if he doesn’t learn to hate me first.
Hesitantly, he settles my feet back on the floor, allowing me to finish preparing myself for his guest.
The sky is painted in a thick watercolor of pinks and reds, the sun disappearing over the western sea when he takes my arm and ushers me toward the door.
“It’s time, mi’dair’a,” he says, “Our guest will be waiting.”
All the butterflies I’ve suppressed throughout the day begin to flutter wildly in my stomach. Maybe it’s only the mystery surrounding his friend or maybe it’s my plans for tomorrow, but there is a void in my gut that I cannot seem to fill.
I am unfamiliar with the small and intimate dining room I find myself in.
It boasts tall panels of dark wood with an extravagantly large fireplace situated between the hip-to-ceiling leaded windows I have become accustomed to seeing in every room.
The small table is set with humble settings, somewhat unexpected in the palace of the king.
Certainly, a far cry from the golden halls I walked through the day I arrived.