Chapter 25 #3
My hand dropped to the sword, unsheathing it. Her, I amended, as she didn’t feel like an it in my hand. She had a presence, like if I listened hard enough, and long enough, she would speak to me. As the blade caught the fading light, she flashed an unearthly luminescence.
“We’re going to have to work on that,” I told her. “Can’t have you illuminating us to everyone, as pretty as it is.”
The light faded into embers, pulsing as if she was sulking. I tried not to think about the fact that I was attributing emotions and thoughts to my sword, let alone talking to it and expecting it to respond. Which it did.
Griff watched me in amusement.
“What? Like you’ve never talked to your swords? Although they probably just brood instead of talk back.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he gestured for me to precede him to the mat.
I was going to have to adjust for how light Anamlae was in my hand.
Every other sword I’d used had been significantly heavier, requiring a hold farther down the pommel to balance my grip.
With Anamlae clearly designed for a smaller hand, I could grip her and balance at any point in the pommel.
Her slightly curved blade gleamed in the fading light.
I turned to face Griff, who was standing there with both swords out.
“Ready?” He didn’t wait for me to answer before he lunged.
Anamlae blocked his blow easily. It was never that simple to block him.
“Now you start holding back against me?” I asked in disbelief.
Surprise fluttered over his face. “I’m not.”
“Huh. Okay then. Let’s see what you’ve got, lady.”
She must have heard that thought. My attack contained a precision I’d never had before. Griff actually had to work to keep up.
And then we moved faster than I ever had before. Her light flared as she put more force, more power, into each of my blows. I had to wrench away from him.
“No!” I screamed at the sword. “We like him! This is practice! We’re not trying to actually kill him!”
Griff was full-out laughing at me.
“You think this is funny?” I asked him. “Just wait until I let her stab you, Champion.”
“You won’t let her. I just heard you tell the sword you like me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I told him, before snapping at my blade, “What did I tell you? No fucking glowing!”
Anamlae flared with one last burst of blinding light, searing a starburst into my eyes, as though she was determined to get the last word.
“Is this… normal?” I asked Griff.
“Feeling like they have emotions? Like they are at least somewhat conscious? Yes, totally normal. For magical devices, that is.”
“How?” I asked breathlessly.
He scratched his scruffy chin. “You’d have to ask Finn for the full answer, but my understanding is that it has something to do with the power they take on. That their creator infuses them with a bit of their own personality when tying the power to them.”
“Who was your creator?” I mused to the sword. But she stayed silent this time.
Somewhat cautiously, I engaged Griff again, but this time, she didn’t try to escalate things.
We finally finished in a stalemate. Even with Anamlae helping me out, I still wasn’t good enough to beat Griff.
He grinned broadly as he sheathed both of his swords and began clapping. “Bravo, Princess.”
I felt an answering grin come with his praise.
From behind me, I heard a second set of hands clapping. I turned around to see Kaia standing there. When had she snuck in?
She immediately noticed the blade in my hands, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “Explain.”
I quickly told her the high points of my story, and as I did, her expression beamed with what could only be pride.
“I knew it,” she said softly. “Violet would be so proud.” Kaia started to turn back to her office before she paused, adding, “She was your godsmother, you know? Sworn to protect you if anything happened to your parents. She was so honored that your parents chose her.”
Andrei had briefly mentioned that many months ago. We shared a bond, or at least we had when she was alive. Surely bonds like that faded when one of the two parties died?
I had no idea what to do with the fact that everything continued to involve her, fifty years after her death. Talk about a lasting legacy—her journal, the dreams, now even the sword I held.
Slowly, lovingly, I sheathed Anamlae. “We’re going to do great things together.”
I felt a hum on my hip in agreement.
I was in a room that I knew at once I’d never been in before but was as familiar to me as my own. A woman burst through the door, slamming it behind her, only to stop short.
“Oh, it’s you. Hey, kiddo,” she said, staring at me. “I’m glad you’ve finally got my sword, but you’re taking your sweet time with it.”
“Taking my sweet time with what, Aunt Violet?” I hesitated only slightly on her name, but she heard it and grinned.
“With figuring out what’s wrong with the prophecy, of course.” She sat down in a chair and pulled her boots off.
“I don’t suppose you’d simply care to tell me?” I asked.
She raised her brows. “Where would the fun in that be?” Her head raised, a look of concern in her eyes. “Go, kiddo! Before—”
Griff snorted in his sleep, rolling over, his arm tightening around me. I settled into his embrace and fell back into a dreamless sleep.