Chapter 8
FRIENDS
The clang of metal reaches us well before we enter the training grounds. Excitement quickens my pace as we walk towards the sound. The path we’ve taken looks to be meticulously laid cobblestones, but it’s been trodden so many times that the stones are worn smooth.
Some of Odessa’s smaller feathers flutter in the breeze, and our skirts billow about our ankles. The breeze isn’t cold, only cool enough to diminish the sun’s burn.
Odessa pauses at a wooden archway that marks the barrier between the grounds and the training area. The horizontal beam that makes up the top of the archway has carved letters in a language I don’t recognize, but seems familiar.
“What does that say?” I ask, pointing at the letters.
She snorts. “A relic from the past.” She rolls her eyes. “It says: Those who live without discipline will die without honor.”
The breeze halts as if the very land has stilled to hear the words. The brief pause is interrupted by the reverberation of metal on metal and the grunts of warriors. Odessa steps to the side, my view of the handful of warriors in various activities now unobscured.
My eyes are drawn to the tallest man and woman I’ve ever seen.
They are sparring with swords and wooden shields.
The man leans quickly to the right as a sword nearly grazes his long, braided black hair.
He rights himself, and his shirtless abs flex with the motion before being concealed by the shield he hoists into place, blocking the next blow the woman throws at him with her sword.
I don’t know which is more impressive, the speed at which the man is moving his large body or the strength she is putting behind each of her assaults. She moves like an asp, but the sound of her sword crashing against his shield cracks as loud as thunder.
Odessa nods at the couple I’m staring at. “That’s Tane and Mathilda. Tane is the only warrior willing to spar with her.” She eyes them. “Mathilda is a Valkyrie known for her strength. It’s her blessed power from the Father.”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the scene before me.
Mathilda’s honey-colored hair is pulled away from her face in two braids that are gathered at the top of her head in a high ponytail that whips side to side like thick ropes with each lunge. Sweat is glistening off her tanned skin even though she’s dressed in what I assume is training gear.
The complexity of the woven leather gives me the impression that it was made specifically to keep the warriors cool and comfortable during their physical activities.
Flashes of her tanned skin peek out from the crisscrossing gaps in the leather across her chest, which end right above her navel.
The overlapping leather has gaps in the back that accommodate her wings, which flare wide with each lunge and tuck tightly when she shields.
The leather of her pants looks like it’s been sewn onto her muscular legs. When she lunges at Tane, they flex with her movements, and her wings slightly spread to counterbalance her bracing stance.
It’s like an ancient depiction of battle.
Tane tries to retreat a step from her lunge, but she’s too quick, and the shield he’s holding is blocking part of his view. She slips a booted foot behind his retreating leg and yanks.
In one swift motion, he’s sprawling onto his back while he reaches out and takes her with him. Mathilda throws her weapon and shield out to the side as she lands on top of his chest, her wings tucked tightly to her body.
They burst into laughter. The affection they exude has me clutching my necklace. My chest aches with memories of Lachlan.
Mathilda’s wings flare as she stands and reaches down to pull Tane up easily. He retrieves her weapon and shield before he hands them to her, and they walk to the refreshments table in the shaded corner of the training grounds.
“Why doesn’t Tane have wings?” I ask, eyeing them as they rest together.
“He’s only a warrior,” Odessa replies dismissively.
The only other people on the grounds are at the opposite end, near a long, metal-roofed, wooden building.
The man is the red-headed man from the group earlier, the one with the raven black wings.
I study him as he draws back a bow. His copper-red hair glistens in the sunlight while his wings seem to absorb the light.
Odessa turns with me and points at him. “That’s Evander; he’s one of the royal guards.”
“His wings are beautiful,” I mumble.
His muscles flex from drawing the bow taught.
“The men who have been selected as guards for the royal family were either the male children of Valkyries or children of warriors who made the cut for selection. Once chosen, they were gifted with raven black wings by Odin,” she replies.
Evander’s wings vanish right after he fires the arrow that sinks into the center of the bullseye. I gasp as tattoos now ripple across his arms.
My face twists in shock. “What just happened?”
Odessa chuckles. “Part of their gift is also shape-shifting. He can shift the wings into tattoos upon his arms.” She points at the wing-like black outline inked over his shoulders and down his entire arms, stopping at his wrists. “See.”
With his wings now gone, I catch a glimpse of the tiny female at his side.
She brushes her chestnut brown hair from her eyes, and it sways right below her chin, the ends curling delicately.
Her training top outlines her petite frame, but instead of the leather pants, she’s paired it with a flowing skirt.
She’s handing Evander another arrow before I realize her hands are resting on her hips.
A small gasp escapes me, and Odessa sighs through her nose.
“And that’s Wilhelmina; as you can see, her blessed power is moving things with her thoughts. Before magic faded, she could easily toss boulders, and now she’s reduced to that.”
“Is she a Valkyrie too?” I ask, not seeing any wings.
“Yes, she is. But Wilhelmina is … different. You won’t see her with her wings out very often.” Odessa is barely masking the signs of displeasure before she turns and grins at me. “Let’s get you introduced, shall we?”
Her feet crunch against the soil of the grounds as she takes a few steps towards them and then halts abruptly. Everyone turns to stare at us. I shift uncomfortably on my feet as Odessa stays rooted on the spot, causing them to come to us.
Once they’re all gathered around, she steps back beside me.
“Tane, Mathilda, Wilhelmina, and Evander, this is my niece, Helena.” She pauses and tilts her head my way, clearly indicating she wants me to speak now.
I give an awkward little wave. “Hi, I’m Helena, but please call me Lena.” My words are met with silence. “Uh, you guys all looked really cool out there.”
They all continue to stare at me expectantly, and I grimace at the unwanted attention.
Luckily, Mathilda jumps in. “Are you adjusting well so far?”
Tane speaks before I can. “Did you really ask her that? She’s only been here for a few hours.” His accent indicates he’s a New Zealander.
I smile at the unexpectedness of it.
“Well, what else was I supposed to say? You’re just standing there staring at her,” Mathilda snaps back, but there’s no bite to her words. Tane knocks her hip with his.
Wilhelmina breaks up their bantering with her soft, lilting voice. “Lena, such a pretty name.”
“Thank you. Yours is pretty too, Wilhelmina, right?” She makes a face, her freckles scrunching on her nose. “Just Mina.”
I immediately feel a kinship towards her.
Nodding, I say, “Mina.”
She grins, pleased that I honored her request.
Evander juts his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty.” His eyes blaze with kindness.
I take his hand and give a small but firm shake, but I look over at Odessa for confirmation.
“He is … correct … you’re the daughter of the Queen, and the rightful heir to the throne.” She sounds as if she’s thinking it through as she says it.
“Thank you, Evander, but please, no titles, just Lena.”
His cheeks redden, but he dips his head in confirmation.
A door slams loudly from the long building, and Julius struts towards us, flanked by two Valkyries.
The Valkyrie on his right is as dainty as Mina, but that is where the similarities end.
Her soft, rounded face is framed with wavy, strawberry-blonde hair that reaches her hips and complements her enchanting blue eyes.
The female on his left reminds me of a moonbeam.
Her hair is as white as moonlight flowing down to her hips, as well.
She’s tall and wraith-thin, her dark-brown leathers standing out starkly against her pale skin.
There’s something vacant about her expression, though, her pale-green eyes, almost silver, look around dully.
As they reach us, Odessa gestures with her hand to the female who resembles a moonbeam. “Luna.” Then to the smaller, soft-faced female. “Elowen.”
They both nod in greeting.
Julius steps forward abruptly and into my personal space. “What do you think of everything so far, Helena?”
I’m assuming this is his best attempt at pleasantry. I don’t step back, so I have to stare up into his eyes. “It’s been a bit overwhelming, but it’s so beautiful here. And please, call me Lena,” I reply with a smile.
He gives me a grunt of acknowledgment before angling between me and Odessa. “I need to speak to you, love.”
Odessa glances around him at me. “I’ll be just a moment.”
They walk away, pausing under the archway. The others begin talking amongst themselves, and I glance at the two newcomers. Luna is studying her nails while Elowen is studying me.
“Um, hi, Elowen, right?” I ask her.
She cocks her head to the side, the motion predatory, but her gaze is distant. “Helena, is it?”
Every time I hear my full name, I think of Shakespeare. Helena, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, with her lovesick plight and low self-esteem, is not a character I ever want to feel aligned with.
“It’s just Lena.”