Chapter 13 #2
Despite the fire that flared in her blood at the ridiculous name, Arla found herself grinning as she leapt forwards and launched a barrage of lunges and blocks and stabs with the blade she had come to think of as an extension of her.
Sebastian whistled low through his teeth, his own grin faltering for the briefest of seconds when he failed to move quickly enough and Arla nicked his cheekbone.
The sight of the crimson blooming on his tanned skin was enough to send her into a frenzy.
It had always been a drive – blood. Perhaps when she had time to stop, she might wonder if it had anything to do with the way she’d watched it slowly leak from her parents’ bodies for hours until someone had found her.
Still, now she had cut him, she wanted even more.
It called forth a hateful, wicked ardour she could lose herself in.
The sight of blood elicited such a primal response from her that she was often afraid of it.
It never stopped her swinging the blade, though.
She went at Sebastian like he was a threat only she could see. She swung the blade with vicious, controlled strength. Sweat beaded on Seb’s skin. Arla wasn’t even panting yet.
She tunnelled everything into the arc of the blade, the swiftness of her dodge, the power she had honed in her muscles.
She could feel Seb weakening – the way his blade didn’t hold her as strongly as it had done before, the slow shuffles he made with his feet where there had been quick steps before.
‘I’m out,’ Seb said between gritted teeth.
She didn’t care.
She kept moving forwards, kept swinging her blade. He didn’t try to attack her now, only blocked and defended himself. She was almost through his defence – he’d be dead in seconds.
‘Arla, that’s enough.’
It was a taunt. One that lit up in her blood. Not long now. He’d drop the sword, and then she’d impale him, straight through the torso.
‘I said ENOUGH!’ He was shouting now, the desperation in his voice an encouragement to keep moving forwards.
‘Dragonhart.’
Almost there, another swing of the blade and—
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a solid chest as they lifted her off the ground. ‘If you’re going to kill people, sweetheart, I’d rather you did so outside.’
It took too many heartbeats before she realised what had happened.
Seb was regarding her from across the training room, sweat dripping off his face. Her sword hung loosely in her hand, and … Hark held her so tightly against him she didn’t think she could breathe.
‘Steady,’ he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing her skin, the scent of whiskey flooding her senses.
She realised then how close she’d come to losing control. Just that single speck of blood on Sebastian’s cheek and the lack of sleep had stripped away her control.
‘I’m sorry,’ she panted, barely catching her breath. Gods, she’d have collapsed if Hark hadn’t stopped her. Her legs shook, her breathing coming too quickly.
‘Go, Seb. I’ll find you later,’ Hark said.
Sebastian hung his blade up and offered them a weak smile before limping out of the room.
Gods, she’d fucked up.
‘They aren’t used to fighting like that. You took him by surprise, is all,’ Hark said, turning her to face him.
‘I would have killed him,’ she mumbled.
‘Yes, but you didn’t.’
‘Why are you defending me?’ she snapped, shrugging out of his grip.
It would never leave her, would it? The years she had spent under Cyrus’s instruction. To kill and kill and kill… She didn’t know how to do anything else when the thoughts in her brain unravelled and she couldn’t wind them back in.
Hark stepped up beside her immediately, turning her back to face him.
‘I will always defend you,’ he swore in a voice so low it sent a chill skittering across her skin. ‘I don’t care how many men you kill, I don’t care what wretched things you do, I will always defend you because you are mine and I love you.’
Her chest heaved, the adrenalin from the duel finally beginning to ebb. He shouldn’t defend her. She was wicked, and violent, and she had felt herself slipping more and more as each day passed, that well of violence in her filling and filling until she was certain she would overflow with it.
And yet … she had never been so grateful for him. That he should defend her, that he should look at her and still see her rather than this thing the world had turned her into made everything feel better. To be loved was to be seen, and Hark devoted himself to ensuring it.
She wanted to tell him about Sylvie – wanted to say she’d seen the Red Blade spying on her and had done nothing to stop it.
She wouldn’t, though. Hark would refuse outright to have anything to do with anyone spying on their kingdom and she needed him to understand.
Sylvie and the Red Blades wouldn’t be a threat, Arla would make sure of it.
And just like the way she’d kept killing the man in the mountains a secret, she would keep this one too, if it prevented a war.
If it gave them just a few more months of peace.
She’d seen the lack of sleep that had drawn dark circles beneath his eyes, had seen the frown lines on his forehead because he couldn’t switch his brain off. She wouldn’t worry him with this, not if she didn’t need to.
‘Take the day off, Arla,’ he said, lifting a stray curl and tucking it behind her ear. ‘You’ve been working hard. The people are starting to trust you and you haven’t stopped for a minute. Take the day off, go read, go fly, go and sleep. Gods, you look exhausted.’
She felt it then, the bone-deep tiredness she’d shrugged off for weeks now nipping at her heels.
Hark kissed her forehead softly, an action so lovely and so gentle that she fought the lump in her throat.
She didn’t deserve this kind of love. She didn’t deserve someone who wasn’t scared of her, who always managed to find a way to bring her back to herself no matter how many times she lost control.
She gripped him tightly. She’d fought for this life.
She wouldn’t allow anything to take it from her.
So if that meant listening to Hark Stappen for once in her life, she would gladly go to her rooms and go to sleep.
She’d gladly spend the day lounging around the hall and reading as many of those books as she possibly could if it meant it would help.
She had worked too hard to get here, she wouldn’t become the undoing of Flambriar and its court now.
Thara sent a lick of warmth down the bond.
Besides, she had forever to build a kingdom.