Chapter 14 Sage
Sage
There wasn’t anything I could do. I had to carry on and pray an ambush wasn’t waiting for me farther up the trail.
The churning in my stomach turned to cold, hard dread. I straddled the log bridge and inched across on my butt, not trusting my sore body to keep my balance while crossing it. Then I hobbled down the path, my gaze darting toward every shadow and every rocky outcropping that could hide a man.
My legs were screaming at me and my nerves shot by the time I reached the steep slope at the end of the trail. I staggered up it, then lurched down the other side to the boulders marking the trail.
All the other novices stood in the field looking bored and not one of them — including Tyon — looked out of breath. Which meant I’d taken far too long.
Lord Rider glared at me and huffed. “Looks like Sawyer and Tyon are running with the rocks at the end of training.”
Talon offered me a sympathetic smile before turning to the rest of the group. “All of the fae, Durand, Bramwell, Hamelin, Ambrose, Aldis, Sawyer, Jokin, and Sivis, you’re with Rider. You’re the experienced fighter group. The rest are with me and Quill.”
We all marched up to the flat area where the large sparring rings had been carved into the stone where Talon and Lord Quill had dropped off the practice weapons.
“Rider’s group picks first,” Quill said, and the less experienced novices stepped back. “We won’t need to pay so close attention to weight and length for a while, and by then they’ll have moved on to their regular blades.”
I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t want Mikel, Durand or anyone swinging a sharp weapon in my direction.
I waited until everyone else in my group had picked their practice blade. Given my size and strength compared to theirs, I doubted any of them would consider the few weapons appropriate for me, so I wasn’t worried that they’d be taken, and I was right.
There were three blades I could pick from, and while one of them was closest in size and weight to my actual sword, I picked the lightest of the three.
My arms still hurt from a rotation of stable duty, and I had no idea how long I’d be swinging it around today.
I doubted this was going to be like the testing last rotation where everyone had a turn and that was it.
“Partner up,” Rider said, motioning for our group to move out of the way so the inexperienced fighters could pick their weapons. “We’re doing small spars. There’s no circle but keep it tight and don’t lose track of who’s around you.”
The nine fae novices glanced at each other, then swept their gazes over the humans, while Mikel and his gang turned toward each other, and Sivis, Aldis, and Jokin did the same. Everyone pointedly ignored me.
“Don’t worry about who your partner is,” Rider huffed. “You’ll be changing a couple of times today and again over the next few days. You won’t repeat a partner until you’ve gone through everyone.”
Swell. That meant I couldn’t avoid sparring with Mikel or Durand. Or Ambrose — who was probably holding a grudge for the black eyes.
Everyone found a partner, leaving me with Jokin. He was the least skilled of the experienced novices and a few years older than my real age of twenty, not the fifteen I was pretending to be.
He’d been on the town guard of a small town in the north of the Kingdom of Thermalea before his name had been drawn in the lottery, but the town either didn’t have skilled instructors or couldn’t be bothered with an in-depth education.
“Fine,” Jokin huffed. “Let’s get this started.”
Mikel shot him a dark glare, and his mouth snapped shut, adding to my suspicion that the new plan was to pretend I didn’t exist.
Maybe Lord Rider had said something to them. That was the only explanation for why everyone had changed tactics. No one was trying to put me in my place, bump me out of the way, take away oranges, or ambush me on the running trail.
Now they were proving to me that I was no one. Nothing.
I swallowed back my sigh of relief. They’d probably be pissed knowing I was grateful that they were going to ignore me, and that I needed them to ignore me. The longer they did, the longer I could pretend I was Sawyer.
Jokin circled me warily, his practice sword held in a decent guard position. We exchanged a few testing blows, the clang of our blunt, metal practice swords joining the chorus of similar sounds from around us.
I blocked his swing toward my left shoulder, the impact sending a jolt down my already aching arms. My lighter blade ensured my arms wouldn’t tire out too early but that was about it.
Jokin pressed forward with two quick strikes, and I managed to sidestep the second one. For the briefest moment, his eyes widened slightly with surprise as if he hadn’t expected me to dodge it before his expression hardened again, returning to that deliberate coldness.
We continued trading blows, the steady rhythm of attack and defense making my arms burn as sweat gathered at my temples, under my arms, and between my breasts.
With my aching body, it felt like an hour passed in our steady exchange — when it had likely only been half that time — before Lord Rider’s voice cut through the training yard. “Switch partners!”
We broke apart, and Jokin moved away to find his next partner. I stood where I was and watched as everyone paired off again until only Hamelin stood across the practice area, his jaw tight with the realization that he was the only one left.
With a huff, he strode toward me. “Might as well get this over with early.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said, my aching body making me reckless. And, if I was being honest, I wanted to see if I was correct about their new tactic.
He glared at me until Mikel cleared his throat, then, after much difficulty, Hamelin managed to school his expression into blank indifference.
Hamelin took his position, his longsword noticeably heavier and longer than mine giving him more weight behind his attacks and even more reach than his long arms already gave him.
He swung with precise, controlled movements. I blocked his first strike, my arms trembling with the effort. His second blow came harder, forcing me back a step.
Though he kept the strikes within what could be considered acceptable for sparring, each one landed harder than necessary. And given that he’d been a soldier before his name had been drawn in the lottery, I had no doubt he knew exactly how hard he was striking.
My muscles ached with the effort to block him, and as much as I wanted to practice blocking and parrying, I wasn’t going to last.
I switched my focus to my footwork and dodging, using my speed as much as possible and slipping past his guard only when I saw clean openings.
I managed to score a few light touches to his arm and shoulder, but my sore muscles made my movements sloppy, and I couldn’t follow through on most of my attacks.
We kept at it, the clash of our blades settling into a wary dance as I dodged and weaved around his heavier strikes. Sweat stung my eyes, and my breath came shorter with each exchange.
“Switch partners!” Lord Rider barked again, and we separated.
The pattern continued through several more partners. By the time the seventh bell rang, signaling the end of practice and the dinner hour, every muscle in my body ached.
I waited until everyone else had returned their practice weapons to the pile of practice weapons, before dropping mine on top.
As I turned away from the pile of weapons, I felt eyes on me, and glanced up to find Talon watching me, his pale, multicolored gaze… strange.
Was he concerned about me? Before he’d obeyed Rider to leave me puking on the running trail, I would have thought the strange expression meant he was concerned, but now I wasn’t sure.
Or was he thinking something else? I’d spent time with him as a woman in the Garden. Had he noticed a resemblance?
Shadow bled over Talon’s mesmerizing gaze, turning it black, and sudden aching desire crashed through me.
I needed him. Needed him now. My body heated, my core throbbed, and everything within me screamed to rip my clothes off and throw myself at him.
Please, take me. Fill me—
“Sawyer!” Lord Rider barked.
I jerked and somehow wrenched my attention to my feet, away from Talon’s gaze. My pulse roared in my ears, my cheeks burned, and my breath was too fast.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Talon’s feet take a step toward me and I lurched back.
“Round the trail with the rocks,” Rider said. “You, too, Tyon.”
Right. The rocks. I’d been the last one off the trail from the group of experienced novices. “Yes, Lord Commander.”
I turned my back on Talon and half jogged half hobbled as fast as I could across the practice field back to the boulders marking the running trail where the two bags of rocks waited.
Tyon hurried past me, grabbed the strap of one of the bags, and with both hands hauled it up high enough to get it over his head.
I picked up the other bag, the weight making my arms ache, and slung the strap over my head to settle on my shoulder as well.
“Jeez, these are heavy,” I huffed. “How do you run with this?”
Tyon shot me a panicked look before wrenching his attention to the trail. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
Ah. So I was right.
He slowly jogged — more of a brisk walk — up the hill, and I followed, my legs telling me in no uncertain terms that I was not going to be running the trail.
“It’s all right,” I told him.
We crested the rise and staggered down the other side.
“I’m still willing to help you learn to read when no one else is around,” I said. “But I also understand if you don’t want to risk it.”
Tyon shot me a sad, grateful smile. “I don’t understand why they have to be assholes about it.”
I didn’t either. And yet I knew there were horrible, hateful people out there who didn’t need a reason to be cruel.
All I could hope was that pretending I didn’t exist wasn’t just a ploy to get my guard down and that they planned to do something worse.