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“You’ll have to try harder to insult me,” he calls.

“I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you,” I sneer and slam the door shut behind me.

I’ll have to figure out another way to get the map. One that doesn’t include sleeping with Darian again.

thirty-two

BROTHERS

For once I’m mentally begging for Marge to keep me in the healer’s quadrant with her. She dismisses me for the day, but I don’t know how to ask to stay without drawing suspicion or questions. She insists I attend sparring to keep up my training.

I head to the sparring ring and settle on the opposite side of where Cole sits. His head snaps up, his attention focused on me. I didn’t think it was possible, but the bags under his eyes have worsened. His hair is ruffled as if he’s gone weeks without restful sleep. I rip my gaze away from him, pity rising like bile, and divert my attention to the sparring circle.

Darian is in the center with Archie, instructing several other soldiers in combinations. Rather than ruthlessly hacking at Archie, Darian’s slow in his movements: redirecting Archie to a new position, teaching him how to block and advance. Archie’s eyes sparkle in admiration, while Darian keeps his commands short and gruff.

Archie flashes a smile in my direction. Darian scolds him for losing focus, but follows his line of sight, and his eyes connect with mine. A bead of sweat runs down my neck as he steals a glance down my body and back up.

“Come step in for this pup, since he seems to be too distracted,” Darian calls out to me, jerking his head at Archie.

Archie’s mouth falls into a frown as he tries to argue.

I shake my head. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Then come stand in for me,” Darian orders.

Archie nods enthusiastically. With a sigh, I obey, unsheathing my sword as I stride across the clearing.

“If you lose focus like that in a battle, you’ll either die or get an arm cut off,” Darian scolds Archie as I draw near.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” Archie offers with an optimistic smile.

“No. What doesn’t kill me better fucking run,” Darian grumbles.

Archie’s lips thin in confusion. “I…I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

Before Darian can say anything else, I step in between them. Archie and I practice slow spins and turns, strikes and blocks. Darian ghosts a touch against my waist to correct my stance in one position and knocks the tip of his boot between my feet to spread my legs wider. My breath hitches, palms sweating as I focus on Archie’s face. Archie and I return to sparring, and despite white-knuckling the sword’s hilt in my hand, it slips from my grip as I block Archie’s attack.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Darian says neutrally and walks off.

I exchange glances of surprise with the rest of the soldiers in the ring. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one caught off guard from Darian’s sudden decision to train everyone.

I snag my sword from the ground, muttering under my breath, “I still suck at this.”

“Yeah, me too,” Archie admits.

I toss a look into his direction. “You’re not even going to argue?”

Archie blinks. “Oh...well. You don’t suck!”

I laugh at the obvious lie.

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. But you know what? We can suck together. And that’s better than sucking alone.”

I loop an arm around his shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure on him. “How’s your arm?”

“Man, Marge is some sort of magician. It’s definitely sore, but I can still swing it. She just told me to take it easy!”

I raise an eyebrow, motioning to the sparring circle as we walk over to join the rest of the onlookers. “And…this is easy?”