Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
There’s something to be said for the release that comes from having a blade in your hand and facing a worthy opponent.
Victory never tastes sweeter than when you face off against someone more skilled than you and win.
I wonder what a real battle is like. Looks like I might find out sooner rather than later.
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Having been significantly shaken during the council meeting, for the next several days, I stuck close to the training yard.
Beyond being the princess, I had made enough friends with the soldiers that I felt I could trust them, and that they’d defend me if need be.
They had adopted me, offering advice and encouragement—especially when Kaia was feeling particularly difficult.
On day seven of Griff being gone, and having been plagued by nightmares of Cillian the night before and jumping at every sound, I looked forward to burning off some of the doubt and panic.
A sword in my hand, a person to spar against—those were physical actions I could take, literally wrap my hands around.
Everyone was busy, so I grabbed a practice sword and began taking my energy out on a practice dummy, scattering straw around its base with my frustrated strikes.
I lacked finesse, just slashing away with my entire being.
Each strike was against a different person.
Cillian. Zachariah. The council members who’d laughed at me.
Even Griff. My arms, shoulders, and back began to tire, but the feelings were still churning madly inside me.
I ignored my body’s protests as I increased my attack, frantic to release my spinning emotions and bring some clarity to my life.
I had been at it for some time when I felt someone watching me. Self-conscious of my soldiers’ opinions of me, I pulled the intensity of my strikes to become more precise. I really shouldn’t give my soldiers the impression I couldn’t control my anger.
I still felt eyes on me as the wind kicked up and blew some of the scattered straw into my face, where it stuck to the sweat that covered my brow.
Panting, I stopped my assault on the poor practice dummy, scrubbing a wrist over my forehead.
Those eyes were burning a hole in my back, and I whirled around to scream at whoever had decided to watch me so intently.
The words died on my tongue and all sounds of practice faded around me as I saw him leaning against a wall, the sun shining down on him, making him appear as if he was glowing.
Griff was back.
His normally sandy hair was blonder in this light, the scruff covering the bottom half of his face longer than I’d seen before.
As he pushed off the wall and headed directly toward me, I couldn’t stop myself from looking him over, wondering if he’d had one of those near misses while he was gone.
I didn’t see any signs of injury, but I thought back to those times he had seemed tired or I had caught a wince.
I hadn’t seen him since he had found me with the attacker. I refused to label what happened as Griff rescuing me. Then he’d left, without a word to me. And suddenly, I was angry again. Furious.
“Hi, Princess,” he said when he got within a few feet of me. His deep voice was edged with some emotion I couldn’t place.
“Don’t ‘hi, Princess’ me,” I shot back at him, practice sword already in motion toward his head as if it had a mind of its own, but he blocked it with his forearm, as easily as swatting a fly.
I knew how much strength I had hit him with. How had that not broken his arm?
He wore a wary expression, his hand reaching back without looking to grab his own practice sword to block my next blow. “Have I done something to offend—”
“Offend? No, of course not. You just disappeared without a word to me, after I was attacked. And then you were gone for over a week.”
I probably looked like a crazy woman, sweat dripping down my bright-red face, braid still covered in straw, spewing words at him with a vehemence in my voice that matched the anger of my attack. The ferocity of my anger caught him off guard. Hell, it surprised me too.
“I didn’t realize you required my presence. Apologies, Princess,” he said as he blocked my strikes, mask firmly in place, but his eyes flashed as he said my nickname.
I let out a primal groan of rage and attacked him again.
“No, you just show up whenever I need saving and then disappear again without saying a word! ‘Just practice your powers, Lexa. Just train with the sword, Lexa,’” I parroted the various people who now controlled my life, punctuating each of them with a jab with my sword.
“And who are you to decide if I need you here or not? Maybe I could have used a friend! Maybe I wanted to see you after that!”
He stayed on the defense while he watched me warily, as if I might explode at any time. He wasn’t wrong. “I told you I have duties to attend to,” he said hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure what was going to cause the explosion. That made two of us.
“Duties. Right. Those same duties that everyone knows about but me? The ones that apparently involve you nearly getting killed?” I hissed, lunging forward.
He paused momentarily, which I used to my advantage as I spun in and attempted to smack him on the shoulder with my sword. At the last possible second, he knocked my sword away again, before it could touch him.
We had an audience now, watching the princess take on her Champion.
They were taking bets, both in terms of who would win and what the argument was about, but I didn’t care.
I spun forward with a flurry of blows. Taking him on while I was exhausted and he was as fresh as a daisy was potentially suicidal, but I was too far gone in anger to care about that either.
He raised an eyebrow, easily blocking my attack. “What are you talking about?”
“You never told me how dangerous it was every time you left on one of your ‘duties.’ I had to find out from Zachariah that you’ve had several near misses.”
“Oh, that.” His expression cleared as he blocked another attack. “It’s not as bad—”
“And now you’re lying to me.”
I attacked him again, and before I could even touch him, he pulled a move.
I had no idea what he did or how it happened, but I took a small amount of pleasure in the fact that even though my sword went flying, I was able to use my mind channel enough to cause his to soar from his hands and land on the opposite side as mine.
I rushed him, going low and attempting to ram him around the middle.
Cormac had taught me a few moves for taking out someone taller, bigger, and stronger than me when it came to hand-to-hand, and I tried all of them, to limited success.
He blocked me each time but never returned the attack.
“Fight me, damn you!” I cried, throwing an admittedly wild punch.
“I’m trying to keep you from hurting yourself,” he bit out in return, catching the punch and blocking my other hand.
“Stop fucking protecting me from everything! And stop lying to me!”
“It is my job to protect you. I’m oath-bound to do so. And what would you have me say?” His voice was still calm, controlled, but edged with frustration, while he held me off.
I kicked a leg out, attempting to swipe his legs out from under him, only managing to make myself stumble. “I would have you tell me the truth! Don’t fucking coddle me and keep me in the dark, Griff! I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” I tried to kick him again.
“You think I like keeping things from you? You think this is easy?” He caught my leg and sent me crashing downward, his weight bearing down on me until I was pinned beneath him.
“I need you to trust me, Griff!” I shouted up at him, his face inches from mine.
“Trust?” The control he worked so carefully for shattered as he pinned my wrists to the mat with his powerful hands.
“You think this is about trust? People die out there, Lexa. Every day. Families are broken apart. Lives are destroyed. You got barely a taste of it when we were in Terraleth with the dorchas. When I’m out there, faced with that devastation, the only thing that gets me through is knowing the reason I’m there.
And that reason is protecting this realm.
And every time I go out there…” His voice broke, the look on his face raw.
“What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you about the near misses? The times the darkness surrounded me, blinded me, hufen everywhere, trying to—” He cut himself off at my stricken expression.
The practice yard had gone deadly quiet, potentially a long time ago. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.
“Griff…” I laid there, staring up at him, feeling the weight of his body over me, completely lost for words.
“Forget I said anything.” The mask returned and he started to roll away.
“No.” I caught his arm, his muscles tensing as I gripped his bicep. “Don’t you dare shut me out again.”
He stared down at my hand on his arm, his eyes dark. “Princess…”
“I mean it, Champion. I can’t keep wondering if you’re dead or alive. Or when you’ll be gone.”
“Why? Why does it matter? Why are you so upset?” There was weight behind his words, as if he was holding his breath, waiting for my answer.
That question made me pause. Why was I so upset? That golden place inside me trembled with emotion, fueling the worry.
He sat up, pulling me into a seated position with him. He hooked an arm around his knee, waiting.
I crossed my legs, resting my hands in my lap. “You’re my…” I struggled for the right word. Friend felt too small, too safe for whatever this was, but I couldn’t come up with anything better so that’s what I said.
A flash of something flickered through his eyes so quickly I may have imagined it. Disappointment? “Friend,” he echoed flatly.
“I just… don’t want you hurt,” I finished, the words coming out smaller than I intended.