17. Oh, if only she really knew #3
I had spent my entire military service fighting other guards and Odessans who’d honed their bodies—and only their physical bodies—for the art of war, not whatever arcane influence was pumping through Jasper’s veins.
No matter how confident I was in where he’d come at me next, the mage knew what I was thinking and changed his strategy twice over, all in the blink of an eye. Every fucking time.
Well, it was that, or I couldn’t spar to save my life anymore.
My body would be black and blue come morning, but I’d be damned if I didn’t hold my ground. To the mage’s credit, he seemed pleased with how I carried myself.
The first time he treated me to a breathless, almost mindless, mutter of, “Very good,” I found the ever-increasing temperature of my body impossible to manage.
By the fifth or sixth round of somewhat breathy praise, I was glad we’d been embroiled in physical activity for as long as we had so I could blame that on the flushed state of my skin.
It turned out, old habits of feeling the need to fight or fuck—or both—my way through my problems died very, very hard. And my nonsensical bodily attraction to the shadow-cloaked, faceless mage compounded tenfold when he finally put me on my ass.
He came at me as he had dozens of times already, but I stumbled. My legs were struggling under the day’s effort, and they finally faltered. Jasper hooked my knee, locking our staffs, and drove his shoulder into mine.
“No,” I bit out, panting. “No. You. Fucking. Don’t—”
We both went down.
The mage was far heavier than he looked, knocking all the air from my lungs, and his hips pinned mine with no effort. Despite my frantic writhing to get out from under him, Jasper shifted quickly to neutralize me—knocking away my staff and using his to immobilize my arms.
Fuck me.
I should’ve been furious with myself, but that was so easily disregarded by how I couldn’t catch my fucking breath. Then there was the sight of him above me, chest heaving, tendrils of dark mist rolling off his face…
I’d never been so damned happy to have a training session interrupted.
At first, I hadn’t been confident it was the soft squeal of the gate I’d heard—and there wasn’t a chance in any of the hells I’d take my eyes off Jasper or his arrogant grin to check. But when a round of modest applause broke out, I knew we’d garnered an audience of one.
Jasper rolled off me in a hurry, and I backed a healthy distance away, pushing sweat-soaked strands of hair out of my face as we both turned our attention to Maksym.
The amber-eyed king was back to his casually dressed self: a light tunic and black vest with fitted pants and a single blade at his thigh. Still, somehow, he looked too refined for the dusty, crude surfaces of the training arena.
“My liege,” the mage said with unmistakable breathlessness as he inclined his head.
A sudden tremor of nerves had me blurting out, “Like what you saw, Your Majesty? Or did you come to assess me on your own? I’m sure I still have another few rounds in me.”
A look of surprise flitted across Maksym’s features.
“So her mood improves with a weapon. Understood,” he chuckled. “I’ll have to pass this time, Miss Wynn, but I’m positive you’ll give me a good run when I do take you up on it. I came for another reason, I’m afraid.”
“Did something happen?” Jasper spoke up with a concerned tilt of his head. “I was clear with Lydus that the concerns he raised yesterday would take at least—”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Maksym waved his hand flippantly. “I’ve just had a lot of time to think since Miss Wynn and I had an…insightful dinner last night.”
Insightful.
What a fucking joke.
There was no stemming the unimpressed glance I cut the king as I got up and dusted myself off. “Oh, please go on.”
“I’m trying, Miss Wynn, I assure you.” Maksym tossed me a tight smile. “Regarding your countrymen and their pyres…”
My already aching back tensed, and I swallowed. “What about them?”
“I’ve made arrangements for sundown tonight on the flats of the southern bluffs.
It felt important for you to mourn them properly before preparations for the Agōn Ferr sweep you up.
” For someone who’d had no problem tearing into me with such swiftness the night before, Maksym was speaking far too gently now.
“Only if you’re okay with that, that is. ”
“That’s fine.” Between the sweat drying in every crevice of my body and the sudden tension swelling in the small training room, the urge to flee was undeniable. “I’ll leave you two to…this. There’s an urgent bath and a nap calling my name.”
Was it rude to not give the king or his mage a second glance before I turned tail? Probably. But I could apologize for that later—or never.
“You were great today, Miss Wynn,” the mage called out after me.
I winced as I waved a hand back.
A few minutes earlier, that comment would have left me in a puddle, but now, I was having a hard time thinking of much other than my friend’s bodies, half burned in that cellar.
I definitely should’ve said something.
Thanked the mage, at the very least, for his company all day.
But just before I slipped back through the gate, I glanced back over my shoulder and found Maksym and Jasper squaring off, each armed with a quarterstaff, and I left them be.