21. 21 #3
Why wouldn’t I be able to handle it? I’ve handled every-fucking-thing else.
At that, Nyxalene slides her sword into its sheath and turns, heading for the doorway. Her pace says it all—training’s over in her mind. Orion is giving me the choice, but she clearly sees me as fragile, finished, and already done.
Anger heats my cheeks, and I drift backward several feet away from Orion, using my hands, my daggers still being held tightly in both.
I turn toward the doorway, loosen my grip on the dagger, and hold the blade in between my fingers. I fling it, slicing through the water toward Nyxalene. The hilt hits the coral archway beside her, clunking softly before the dagger falls hopelessly to the stone floor.
She halts and looks back, glare unyielding, but the edges of her mouth lift—more challenge than smile. “You missed, land-dweller.”
“We end when I say we end,” I snap. “I’m tired of everyone treating me like some weak human.”
“Fine,” Nyxalene says calmly, gliding back toward the center of the sparring circle. “Let us try again. Maybe this time you'll actually listen and use every sense the water gives you instead of relying solely on your eyesight.”
With that, she slips back into the shadows that ring the circle, her presence vanishing like a ripple swallowed by the dark. Orion swims to the throne at the head of the room and takes a seat.
He hasn’t spoken a word since he assumed I was finished with the physical portion of my lesson. And I’m glad he didn’t. My focus is on Nyxalene—like it always is when we train together. I could learn everything she knows and still never be better than her.
I turn away from Orion, setting my back to him. I close my eyes and wait. For several moments, there’s only silence. I reach outward, leaning on my other senses to map the space around me.
Smell: the salt mixed into the ocean current, caressing my nostrils in an endless dance of coarseness.
Sound: the churn of water moving around me, and around the pillars to my left, where I catch the faint wisp of a current slipping past their edges.
Taste: the bitter iron of blood where I chewed the inside of my cheek earlier, when Orion grabbed my upper arms.
Touch: my tail brushing against the seafloor, stirring grains of gritty sand. My coral daggers digging into my palms, their edges sharp and jagged. The weight of the ocean pressing against all sides of me.
The water grazes my skin, and the endless magic inside me hums right beneath.
Feeling weightless, I rise off the seafloor.
Beneath me, the water deepens, not in depth, but in weight—pressing upward with a quiet force.
My tail becomes tight and coils around me.
I don’t see it, but I feel it. Caressing around me like a second skin. Protecting me from any oncoming danger.
Without thinking, I flip upside down, my tail lifting above me and anchoring my position as I rotate the daggers backwards, blades now angled along my forearms, and sweep my arms across my body in one fluid, arcing motion.
A sharp, high-pitched shriek fills my ears, piercing through the stillness. I jolt back into my original stance, eyes wide and my mouth drops open. I did it.
Nyxalene is hunched low, clutching the upper part of her back where blood seeps between her fingers.
Her gaze stays fixed on her hand, now covered in blood, as it slowly is washed clean by the current.
Her attention flicks to me. The look she gives is sharp and carefully composed.
She's angry, of course, but beneath it, something else. Pride? Or shock?
“See what happens when you stop using your eyes to see everything?” she says, her voice slow and measured, as she catches her breath.
“Are you alright? I didn’t think I would land the strike on the first try,” I hesitate. The rest of the words stick in my throat. Saying more would only make it worse.
Orion sits on the throne still, covering his mouth with his hand, letting out a quiet laugh.
"Shut up, Orion!" she hisses.
She straightens and flicks her hands through the water, sending crimson strands swirling away from her skin. But the wound continues to bleed.
My eyes widen. Can she not regenerate like Orion and me?
Her expression doesn’t waver. “Since you struck me on the first try, let’s run that again—except Orion will now be your sparring partner,” she says.
A ripple moves through the chamber. Orion rises from the dais. A smile reaches his lips, but it vanishes before he reaches me, replaced by a mask of focus.
I draw a slow breath. I don’t want to hurt him . . . Or do I?
The daggers haven't changed, but somehow they weigh twice as much. I’m suddenly too aware of who I’m about to face. A king. Not my king, but a king nonetheless. Nyxalene wanted me to stop thinking, but how am I supposed to do that when he’s the one standing across from me?
“Do you want to make the first move, or should I?” he asks, the smile returning, this time edged with something darker. Teasing. Dangerous. And for some reason . . . I don’t think he’s talking about the sparring session.