Chapter 10
It’s been one month since our arrival at the Verge. My days are filled with training, meetings, and occasional work with herbs at the apothecary, while my nights are dedicated to family time with Tiernan, Chiyo, Taig, and sometimes with Alys’s family when they invite us over for supper.
Today, before my eyes is a flurry of fists and flying feet.
A crowd is gathered around the massive grey mat in the Skirmish Den where the Verge Defenders train.
Innumerable weapons line one of the exposed brick walls, several mats are proportionately spread out through the space, and magelights shine down from the metal beams across the high ceiling.
The stench of sweat and the increasing balminess within the Skirmish Den would be unbearable if not for the most extravagant display of athleticism I’ve ever seen.
Chiyo and Isobel are locked in a fighting match of spectacular magnitude—backflips, twirls, and magical fanfare grace the mat, completely unnecessary, but so captivating.
The pair is a beautiful, lethal force to be reckoned with.
At twenty, Isobel is a year younger than Chiyo with a personality as bright as her fiery hair.
Across the mat from us, Isobel’s older sibling, Sloan, watches with steady blue-grey eyes. Despite the ten years between them, the siblings could be twins. Sloan seems unperturbed, clearly not worried about their sister’s match against Chiyo.
While Isobel possesses impressive Wielding abilities, Chiyo matches those skills with her diverse weaponry expertise. At last, Chiyo manages to pin Isobel to the mat, and onlookers applaud.
That is until Ava steps onto the mat, jaw fixed, braids swinging, lean shoulders thrown back. She draws her sword from her belt and points it toward the winner—a clear challenge.
Terrifying.
Chiyo’s face drains of color, but she nods and steps forward while Isobel rushes off to stand beside her sibling.
Sloan rests an arm on Isobel’s shoulder—their sleeve is rolled back, revealing a stump that stops just below the elbow.
If anyone dared to undervalue Sloan for their limb difference, they’d be making a fatal mistake; Sloan is deadly without a weapon and terrifying with a sword, even single-handed.
Just yesterday, they faced Tiernan, and though Tiernan won, Sloan gave him a heart-pounding challenge.
On the mat, Ava and Chiyo circle each other like rival predators. Ava holds her long sword at the ready, and suddenly a presence appears beside me. I nearly leap out of my skin until I’m met with obsidian eyes and a small smirk that warms me even more than this stuffy building does.
“Just in time,” I say to Tiernan, nodding toward the mat.
Chiyo has a dagger in each hand now, flipping one, then the other as her angular gaze locks with Ava’s.
They rush at each other with such swiftness, blade for blade, dodge for dodge.
I gasp when Chiyo leaps back as Ava’s sword slices across her upper arm, cutting through her sleeve.
Chiyo’s grip loosens on one dagger—it drops, but a breath later, Chiyo flings the other dagger at Ava.
It whizzes past Ava’s head, uncomfortably close, and the Warden flinches.
Her hand flies to the tip of her ear, her fingers coming away red as she bares her teeth at Chiyo.
Another weapon is in Chiyo’s hand—a shuriken—but this time, Ava’s too quick.
She darts to the side and drops down to the mat, forward-rolling toward Chiyo.
One of her long legs swings out in a wide arc, effectively sweeping Chiyo’s feet out from under her.
Chiyo’s back hits the padding with a slight bounce, and Ava leaves no room for recovery.
She immediately straddles Chiyo, hips pinning her to the mat.
Her sword lies discarded behind her, but a large parrying knife is now pressed to Chiyo’s throat, her free hand braced on one side of Chiyo’s body.
My heart lurches almost painfully—I know Ava won’t kill her, but … Alright, I’m not all that certain.
The fight evaporates from Chiyo’s body as her gaze latches on to Ava’s.
Everything seems to slow to a standstill, the pair of them unmoving, tension growing and stretching between them like a living entity.
A flush creeps into Chiyo’s cheeks until, at last, her eyes flick away from Ava’s.
Looking equally flustered, Ava scrambles off her as though burned.
She tucks her dagger somewhere inside her leather vest and holds her hand out to Chiyo.
Stubborn as a Kilkenny, Chiyo rolls away, getting up on her own.
Tiernan observes them with a single raised brow, several expressions playing across his face at once. His focus shifts, and I follow his line of sight to a crimson-faced Chiyo reappearing beside us. Tiernan claps her on the shoulder, but she only gives him a wavering, awkward smile.
A second later, they both tense. Chiyo looks my way, though Tiernan’s hard gaze remains on the platform. “Ava’s challenged you,” Chiyo says.
I turn to the platform where Ava stands, her braids now pulled back with a scarf, her eyes burning a hole in my skull.
My heart begins to pound. I’ve trained against a few others—and lost every time—but I’ve never gone against Ava.
She’s obscenely far beyond my league. In fact, people here have nicknamed her the Beast.
Shakily, I step forward and convince my legs to keep moving. I climb the steps to the platform and approach Ava. We get into a fighting stance and Ava says without signing, “Prove yourself.”
Then she strikes.
Pain erupts in my forearm as it takes the blow intended for my face.
The next strike from Ava’s eager fist catches me in the shoulder as I turn my body away from her.
She’s too fast, too strong. I duck, but as soon as I’m upright again, her fist flies at my face, far too close for comfort.
I barely avoid a nasty blow as I duck again.
I shriek, holding both arms over my head as I hunker down.
Ava’s foot comes out of nowhere, clipping my ankle and tugging my leg out from under me. I’m left with no choice but to throw my hands back to catch my fall, but pain still throbs through my tailbone and up my arms as I take the defeat.
Ava signs but my vision swims so badly that I cannot make out what she says.
I blink and will my head to cooperate. Embarrassment crawls over my skin, flushing my face with a heat that’s hard to ignore.
Ava waves both hands in front of my face. “Are you even paying attention?”
“Yes,” I grit out. “Just give me a moment.” I’m not sure if the words are even loud enough for her to hear.
She crouches comfortably, her arms propped on her knees. Infuriation fills her hazel eyes as she levels a glower at me. “Get up.”
I said give me a moment, I want to blurt. I meet her gaze with as much stubbornness as I can muster. Tiernan moves into my peripheral vision, still on the sidelines, but I refuse to look at him.
“Get up.” Ava’s gestures are aggressive.
I push myself to stand and hold my ground, even as my vision spots and my head threatens to sink me right back down.
“Focus,” Ava signs, standing too close for comfort.
“Focus through whatever is going on in your body. Do not give your opponent a chance to best you. Everyone has a weakness. If you can spot it at the very beginning, good. If not, keep looking for it, and strike them where it hurts. Your opponent is limping on his right leg? Kick him in the right leg. Favoring one arm? Strike his arm. A blow to the face is always good. You’re not fast, nor are you strong—”
Thanks.
“—but you’re clever. Use it to your advantage.”
I sigh and reluctantly get into a fighting stance again.
Ava doesn’t reciprocate. Instead, her gaze sweeps from my head down to my toes. She scoffs and says, “You’re done here.” My heart sinks. If this was my chance to prove myself, I failed.
But then Ava says, “No cowering next time. See you tomorrow.”
I let my hands fall, my shoulders following.
My legs wobble as I watch her walk off the mat, only to be blocked by Tiernan.
I stand there, watching the heated discussion unfurl between them.
Ava crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip as if casually waiting for something.
Whatever he says, she rebuts, and whatever she says, he does the same.
Tiernan’s eyes meet mine, as do Ava’s, and I know for sure that they’re talking about me. Arguing about me.
Face burning, I rush out of the den, desperate for fresh air. I’m mere steps from the exit when Tiernan appears, his palms held up to gently halt me. “Where are you going?” he asks.
“Why did you challenge her like that?”
His face falls, but he doesn’t respond. “Are you alright?” he asks instead.
“Tiernan.” I emphasize his name aloud without signing.
He huffs out an annoyed breath. “Ava had no right to publicly humiliate you like that.”
I follow the movement of his hand as his fingers idly trace the scar that crawls up his neck.
“She’s in charge, so she has every right,” I say.
“Abusing her authority is not her right! No one has the right to publicly humiliate their subordinates! That’s how people like Rheon come to be. Because everyone allows it!”
His hands move with such hostility that I blink and step back.
A glance from someone a small distance away tells me that he’s speaking quite loudly.
Tiernan must notice the tears welling in my eyes, because he immediately holds his hands up in apology.
“I don’t mean to shout,” he motions quickly. “I’m just—”
“Stressed? Frustrated?” I swallow, fending off the tears.
“Yes, it doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you. I’m sorry.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze growing distant.
“Tiernan, talk to me. Please. Ever since we found out about Rheon—”
His forehead crinkles. “This isn’t about me. This is about you.”