15. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Archer
Once I’d called on Orchid to help Isoria change into an outfit she could spar in, I’d left her in her new room and prepared my personal sparring room, gathering practice swords and summoning another servant to bring a pitcher of water.
When Orchid was finished, she brought the death-lover to me per my orders and left us with a curtsey.
Isoria’s gold eyes studied the wall of weapons warily, perhaps not knowing that they were all dulled for practice use. “You brought me here to fight?” she asked hesitantly.
“You need to practice. Do you know how to defend yourself?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Do I look like a warrior?” she asked dryly.
“Being close to me, with our lives tied together, means you’re going to have to learn to protect yourself to keep us both alive.
Especially because we can’t be separated by more than a mile.
You’re going to have to join me on dangerous missions, and that means you’ll need to be useful and not get yourself killed. ”
I tossed her a practice sword, and she caught it clumsily, almost letting it tumble to the floor. “Missions?”
“Father might have us cowering behind the barrier, but I’m not abandoning my people. When they need me, I venture out to help them.”
She went silent, as if mulling over the fact that I wasn’t an unfeeling brute like she seemed to think.
I lifted my sword, instructing her how to hold it and urging her to attack me.
“I don’t know how,” she protested.
“Just try.” I needed to see if she truly didn’t know anything so I had a starting point for our lessons.
With eyes narrowed, she began lashing out with her blade, the light seeping in through the windows highlighting her motion. Her braided hair swung with every movement, the strands edged in silver starlight. Her eyes reflected them as she studied me, trying to calculate where to strike.
But while she herself was dangerously mesmerizing with her beauty, nothing else about her efforts were.
I’d known the fire demon was going to be a liability in more ways than one, but watching her swing a practice sword was an embarrassment.
Every time she struck at her opponent—me—she signaled her move long before she actually made it.
Her steps were graceful enough—probably her lightness of foot from her inner phoenix—but she didn’t have the first clue where to place her hands or how to shift her stance to go from defensive to offensive maneuvers.
Worst of all, there was no bite.
“I thought you hate me,” I taunted as I sidestepped another of her swings. “Where’s your fire, Feathers?”
It didn’t goad her the way I’d expected.
“I’m a healer,” she panted, dropping her sword arm and wiping at the sweat beading her brow. Her cheeks were pink from exertion. “Why would I be trained to kill?”
Once again, annoyance prickled through me. All I saw were images of phoenixes with wings of flame sparking behind them in their half-forms, their eyes alight with bloodlust as they set fire to my people. Hateful curses hurled toward my family, myself, my kingdom. Threats spoken like vows.
I didn’t want to consider that this fire demon was different, but I couldn’t argue that she’d selflessly risked herself to save my life.
But I also knew phoenixes to be manipulative and cunning.
I couldn’t trust her.
“Well, you’re not getting us killed, so you’re going to learn to use a blade.
” I took her practice sword and stalked over to the weapons wall, swapping both our swords for a simple dagger, testing that its edges were dull enough for her unwieldy ways.
The fire demon went to the far table that the servants stocked with pitchers of water and cups as I worked.
When she finished, she crossed her arms and watched me like she was a saint for suffering through my training.
“Work with this.” I held up the dagger, offering it to her. “You’ll have less weight to manage. Hopefully you’ll grow accustomed to moving it a little more gracefully sooner than you would a sword.”
The death-lover scowled, a glimpse of the fiery spirit I’d first seen in her.
Good. It reminded me that she was dangerous, like the other phoenixes I’d encountered.
She swung the dagger toward me with sudden viciousness, as if she hoped to injure me despite the fact that she’d also hurt herself.
I dodged, but she kept coming. For a moment, I considered sweeping her foot out from under her or knocking the blade from her hand, but something in me wanted to see how far she’d take this.
I wanted to know what I was dealing with.
Did she have any hidden skill? Or was she masochistic enough to go for the kill and take herself down with me?
My hidden fear, the one I didn’t dare consider too much, as if it would make it come true, was that her powers over life and death were great enough for her to assassinate me after all.
That I was the only one restrained by this dangerous tether, and she could slay me, die herself, and then come back in her flames.
That Mortius-cursed resurrection ability was downright terrifying.
At last, my back struck the wall, leaving me out of space to retreat.
Gold eyes blazing, she stepped closer, her chest heaving.
That was slightly relieving, considering I wasn’t breaking a sweat yet.
Wispy strands of black hair framed her face and revealed shades of blue, teal, and purple with her every movement.
I flashed her an indolent grin. “Going in for the kill?” I jeered.
She sucked in a heavy breath before lifting her hand and resting the dagger to my throat. There was no force to it; her eyes lacked resolve. Instead, when her gaze met mine, I found anger and fear swirling in their depths.
It’s an act, I reassured myself. I’d never met a death-lover who doubted or hesitated.
They’d all tried to fight back, even if they’d failed.
I’d lost track of the males and females I’d lost while hunting and securing them.
They’d withstood torture, resisted my magic as much as they could, and burned far too many of our buildings and homes to the ground.
Though I’d known of their healing powers, I’d always assumed it was mainly only used on themselves and their own kind. Until Isoria, I’d never heard of one healing a fae who wasn’t a phoenix shifter. Until her, I’d never considered…
I let the thought trail off, shoving it to the depths of my mind.
Isoria couldn’t be trusted.
I tugged on my magic, desperate for a sense of control and security. I had to know if it would work, even a little.
I gave her the most outrageous command I could think of in the moment, as my gaze settled on her full lips. “Kiss me.”