Chapter 25
Ryder
Ishouldn’t feel so relieved knowing she doesn’t actually hate me, but I can’t help it.
The feeling of disappointing her is one of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced.
Spending all that time with her in the Sector, being the cruel prince everyone knows me to be was easy.
That part of me is natural to access. But she demands more.
“Ryder!” I turn to find Emeric chasing after me up the skull-lined stairs leading to Grimstone.
“What do you need?”
“I know it’s late, but I wanted to see if you would get in some training with me.” There are lines etched into his face like he’s been deep in thought the past few hours. Something feels off. His usual upbeat demeanor is now strained and there’s a look of desperation behind his eyes.
“Yeah. Of course I have time to kick your ass.” It’s a sorry attempt to cheer him up, but it earns me a grin.
When we get to the Center, the two remaining occupants excuse themselves. It’s not always the reaction I get here in the Shadow Lands, but there are plenty of newcomers who are still warming up to the idea that I’m not someone they should instinctively recoil from.
Emeric grabs one of the double-ended swords, so I do the same. “Amaya’s been kicking my ass with this thing and I’m growing tired of it.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to help you but she’s a natural.” I spin the handle in between my fingers, getting comfortable with the feel of it. “Shit, half the time I spar with her she even pushes my skill level. There’s a reason most people stick to the longsword.”
“The deadly prince, challenged by a Sector witch? Don’t let the others hear you.” He looks around the empty room with a sly smirk.
“Yeah, well don’t let Amaya hear you refer to her as only a Sector witch.”
“Touché. She’d probably have my head for it.”
“Without a doubt. Now, let’s see what you got.”
The sound of our clashing blades fills the room. His technique isn’t terrible, but I can tell he hesitates and during battle there is no room for that. Once I’ve assessed his movements enough, I knock the sword out of his hand and send it flying across the mat.
“Damnit!”
Emeric’s outburst catches me off guard.
“Stop,” I order, cutting off his reach with my own sword. He stands back up, leaving his weapon on the mat. “What’s going on?”
He tosses his head back. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just keep going.”
I walk over and sheath the sword back in its stand. “I don’t think so. Not until you tell me what’s really got you all worked up.”
“It’s my brother, okay?” He throws his arms out in frustration. “I miss him. I miss who my brother was before—” His voice cracks.
Although Elias only lost his leg, he lost more than that. He lost his identity.
“I know it’s been difficult—”
“Difficult?” he snaps. “He doesn’t talk to anyone! Especially not me. Our own parents don’t even recognize him anymore and it’s breaking their hearts.” He looks at the ground and shakes his head. “He’s my best friend and there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
I walk over and put my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “I promise you I will find him a mender. It may take a while, but I will make it my personal mission to get him back to the brother you know and love.” I give his shoulder a firm shake, drawing his eyes to me. “Alright?”
“Alright,” he accepts with a sigh that makes me think he has little faith in me.
For whatever reason, I feel a deep responsibility for Emeric.
Maybe it’s because I see his potential or because it’s my father’s fault Elias got hurt.
I’m not sure. But the more time I spend training him, the more I feel an innate need to be the older brother he’s missing now.
It’s a role I never got the chance to play but I’ll do my best to be that for him.
If that means finding a way to get Elias back to being himself, then that’s what I’ll do.
“Now, you wanna learn how I disarmed you so easily?”
The classic Emeric smile that was missing earlier spreads across his face. “Hell yeah! Amaya won’t even see it coming next time.”
“Just promise me you’ll make sure I’m around to witness it.”
“You got it, Boss.”
When my head finally hits the pillow, I can feel the thoughts of the day instantly come rushing forward.
If tomorrow goes badly and Damien doesn’t make it, I don’t know what that will mean for Reign.
Regardless of everything that has happened between the two of them, I know she still has love for him.
And although Henry was able to heal the scars that marked up her body, the scars that no one can see still remain.
She’s already experienced more loss than one person should. Losing Damien now might just break her.
As the late night hours tick by, my mind becomes restless. Eventually, I give up and head to the Center. If my mind won’t tire, then maybe I can force my body to.
While sparring with Emeric earlier, I realized just how much I’ve neglected the double-ended sword over the years.
Even now, as I twist it in my hand, I can feel that it’s not natural.
At least not as natural as my sword of shadows or a longsword.
The two ends should feel the same when wielding it, but I can tell that the lower blade feels disconnected from me.
A loud creak sounds from the Center doors and pulls my focus.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone—” Reign stops mid-sentence when she realizes it’s me she’s speaking to.
“I was just about to leave. The Center’s all yours.” I know I promised her no more lies, but this one seems harmless. The least I can do is give her space to work out her feelings on her own.
“Don’t go.”
For a moment, I think I’ve heard her wrong, but when I look up to meet her gaze, she’s looking at me with pleading eyes.
“Are you sure?”
She starts to make her way over to me. “I’ve been a prisoner to my thoughts the last few hours. I could use a distraction.”
“Then pick your poison.” I motion to the area where the other weapons are stored. I expect her to go after the usual daggers, but to my surprise she unsheathes one of the other double-ended swords. “Bold choice.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not my favorite but if I was still training at the Sector, I’m sure there would be some overly persistent prince lecturing me about spending too much of my time practicing with the same weapons.”
“Sounds like a prick.”
She spins the two blades in a circle. “You have no idea.”
I let out a silent laugh. “Where would you like to start?”
“No matter how much I practice with this thing, I can’t seem to get control. It feels like it’s wielding me rather than the other way around.”
“Let me see.”
I watch closely as she moves the weapon around, switching back and forth between hands, the tip, occasionally scraping along the mat.
“Okay, okay.” I stop her when she almost cuts her shin.
“Give it to me. How bad was it?” she asks, tilting her head in a way that is annoyingly adorable.
“I’ve seen worse.” I take a step closer to her. “But I’ve also seen better.”
“Lovely.”
My smile is impossible to hide, and it only seems to irritate her.
“You should focus on holding the middle with two hands. It will help you gain better control.”
“Show me.”
I use my own sword, moving slowly so that she can match the movements next to me. Her eyes don’t waver as she focuses on the positions my hands take with each move.
“Wait.” I set down my sword and step behind her. My mind goes blank for a moment when the scent of her hair envelops the space between us. I’m ashamed of how hard it is for me to refocus.
“What are you doing?” Her body tenses slightly when I wrap my arms around her, reaching for where her hands are holding the grip.
“Your hands are too close together. Here.” I reposition her hands so that they’re farther apart. I can feel her body relax against mine as I move the blades around, shifting her hands along with mine. “Do you feel that?”
She nods and when she turns her head to look at me it feels far too intimate. She must feel the same way because she quickly turns back around.
“That feels a lot better.”
“Good.” I let go and take a few steps back. “Now, let me see you do it yourself.”
It’s impressive how quickly she’s able to pick things up. Even when she reverts back to her old habits, she catches herself and readjusts all on her own.
The next hour, we spar and make small talk, carefully staying away from the topic I know is on both of our minds.
By the time we say goodnight, I expect to feel the pull of exhaustion.
Instead, I’m met with only the feeling of buzzing energy as my head hits the pillow and the thoughts that had kept me awake before have suddenly been replaced by images of her.