Page 34

CHAPTER 34

Elva tried not to think, because the thoughts that entered her head were about Fyn, and when she thought about Fyn she wanted to strangle him.

How the hell had she managed to get herself in this situation?

When had she managed it?

You thought you were smarter than that, but then you had to go and prove me right , Neve’s voice mocked her.

Her friend’s laughter faded and Elva bounced on the balls of her feet, tipping her balance forwards, backwards.

Forwards again.

‘Will you cut it out?’ Avi said, emerging from the medical tent, a fresh bandage around his knee.

She dropped her balancing act and nodded, saluting.

‘Yessir.’

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her.

‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’

She shook her head.

No, she didn’t want to rehash the moment when she realised Fyn was just like every other Clochain male – the moment she’d misjudged the whole situation, just like she misjudged everything important in her life.

She was sure Illitas, God of Hindsight, was laughing at her; that she was the butt of a godly joke.

‘Is it about the priests?’ Avi asked.

She hesitated, then shook her head.

‘Fynton?’

She didn’t respond again, just tipped forwards as a knowing gleam shone from his eyes.

‘You know this sullen act reminds me of him. If I’m not mistaken, you complained an awful lot about it when—’ She whacked him before he could finish, and he gasped dramatically, one hand swooping to his brow while the other clutched his neck.

He looked ridiculous, and despite her masochistic desire to wallow, the corners of her lips twitched.

‘Do you want me to find Oriann? She usually helps the cooks at this time, but if you want to talk, I can go grab her. I know you miss the warriors, and she’s a good listener,’ Avi said.

She was embarrassed that her petulant antics had his voice dipping in concern, so she did the first thing that came to mind to lighten the mood: she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

‘Is that what you two do? Listen to each other?’

He stared at her, blush creeping up his neck and she laughed, her bad mood finally breaking.

He groaned and gave her shoulder a light shove.

‘You’re going to be the death of me.

’

‘Too bad you’re stuck with me forever,’ she singsonged, poking him in the arm.

‘Come on, let’s go train.

’

Avi led her around the outer row of tents.

She followed, trying to ignore the silver eyes clouding her vision every time she blinked.

Idiot.

Trusting her knowing, trusting the damn tug had led her to a dead end and she didn’t know how to get out.

The last time this had happened Neve had died, so she guessed this was.

.

.

marginally better.

But still.

They halted several yards from the last row of tents, in a flat, grassy space between the camp and the river.

She could hear grunts as soldiers worked to clear the village, but between the trees and the sloping hills surrounding them she couldn’t see anyone.

Perfect.

Avi took a deep breath and raised his hands above his head.

He moved his body in a downward arc, the first movement of the Vettonian fighting flow.

She leaned her axe against a nearby tree and stood opposite him.

She closed her eyes and centred herself, finding the calm movement had always offered, and began the flow, quickening her pace until she was warm enough to remove her jacket.

‘This flow should be good to rehabilitate your knee,’ she said after their first set.

‘And when you feel ready, you can try doing it all on one leg to strengthen the muscle.’

‘Will you quit lecturing and train?’ He met her gaze with a grin and swept his arms up to begin again.

She chortled.

‘Fine. But your feet need to be parallel, weight in your heels,’ she said, correcting Avi as he wobbled in a position.

He shifted and she nodded, feeling a tiny sliver of enjoyment as she fell back into their routine.

‘What happens after the flow set? Do I become an honorary warrior?’ Avi asked.

Elva chuckled as she shook her head.

‘You might get into the training camp with this technique, but graduating is a different matter.’

‘I don’t need to be a woman to get into the training camp?

’

‘No.’

He paused his movement, arms outstretched.

‘So why are all the warriors women?’

‘It’s not a stipulation, only a matter of who can pass the final test.

’

‘Huh.’ Avi was quiet as he continued moving through the flow.

‘Maybe I missed my calling to be one of your warriors.’

‘It’s never too late,’ she said with a wink.

He tipped his head back and laughed, the sound so free it was impossible for her not to join in.

When they finished their next set, Elva’s mind had finally calmed, and her vision was free of silver.

‘Want to spar?’ Avi asked.

‘You’re injured.

’

‘So be gentle.’

She huffed, but retrieved her axe as he unsheathed his sword.

They faced each other and the world around her faded as she focused on his feet, his balance, the way he held his weapon.

She gave herself over to sense memory and moved, darting forwards before Avi could strike.

He brought his sword up to block, but he was too late as she thrust, the blunt top of her axe stopping just short of hitting him in the ribs.

‘Again.’

She let him attack first, parrying his blow with a clang as they danced around each other in a circle.

Even with his injured leg he was good, but there was no denying she was better.

Her breath came in pants, but her mind stilled as she let her knowing guide her movements, falling into the flow.

When she’d broken his guard for the third time she stopped to show him a series of stances.

While she hadn’t been allowed to participate, that hadn’t stopped her from watching the Clochains train.

The brute strength in their form was formidable, but when their opponent was fast, they lagged.

She saw a group of soldiers walk past, dusty from the work they’d been doing in the village, but she didn’t let them distract her.

Damn them all.

The soldiers slowed, turning to look, but Avi held her focus, listening intently as she demonstrated a combination of stances.

‘The fighting flow isn’t just a warm-up.

It’s a base.

See what my feet are doing?

It’s a faster version of the opening section in the flow.

’

His eyes widened and he nodded, quickly catching on as he tried again, his movements sure, even as he was compensating for his knee.

‘Good.’

He parried her blow, sending her dancing back, and she grinned, matching his pace, letting him lead.

The soldiers continued to watch, murmuring to themselves, but she ignored them until one approached, arms crossed.

She recognised his shoulders, the cadence of his gait – he was her personal harbinger of Bruna, God of Agitation.

She clenched her jaw.

‘If you’re going to tell me to stop, save your breath,’ she told Fyn, blocking Avi’s thrust.

‘I’m not going to tell you to stop.

’

He stood just outside of the makeshift circle they’d created, watching intently.

His eyes flashed silver in the darkening light, and she bit her cheek to stop herself from staring.

‘Can I have the next round?’

She pulled up from a lunge and turned to him.

‘You want to spar?’

He nodded.

Shit.

She looked at Avi, who backed away, unable to hide his apparent apprehension.

Or was it glee?

‘All yours, Captain.’

She didn’t know which of them Avi was addressing when he stepped out of the circle, which made her eye tic.

She turned, walking to the opposing side and forced herself to stay calm.

When she was ready she turned to Fyn, who stood in Avi’s vacant position.

He’d rolled his shirt to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms that flexed in a distracting display as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

Without hesitation he attacked, lunging forwards with a series of blows.

She blocked, dancing away with sure steps.

She’d seen him fight before, but that didn’t stop her heart from thumping at the speed he delivered the blows.

He retreated, pulling back to change his attack, and the fizz of her adrenalin surged.

She sprang towards him, twisting and ducking, using the sharp blade of her axe as much as the handle to parry his blows.

She let the speed of her movements be her guide.

Sweat poured down her back and time began stretching, each movement completed in a millisecond, an hour.

His eyes simmered and she forced herself to focus on his feet, letting them prompt her, drawing him in.

She feinted left, dropping her guard for a moment while she readjusted her grip and her deep sense of knowing recognised he’d take the bait.

She grunted as she took the hit, but thrust the blunt end of her axe into his pommel, sending his sword flying into the dirt.

She smirked, ready to be crowned the victor when he dropped his shoulder and rammed straight into her.

Her breath whooshed out and she hit the ground with a thud, axe discarded in the dirt.

Fyn pounced, but she let the momentum of his hit carry her, rolling until she was crouching opposite him, sucking in deep lungfuls of air to keep her mind clear.

Lightning burned just below the surface of his eyes and she could see sweat running down his forehead, his chest rising in slow, steady pants.

Gods, she wanted to fuck him and fucking beat him.

It was infuriating.

He was a mass of muscle, and without her axe she was outmatched.

She needed to end this now, or the sheer size of him would have her pinned.

He met her gaze, jaw clenching as he looked for an opening she wouldn’t give.

The various options of the fight flashed through her head, and she dismissed them all as quickly as they rose.

Until—

She smiled a feline grin and straightened, taking a step back.

His brow creased and he followed her movement, shifting his base so his knees were bent in a low stance.

Good.

‘It’s ironic, isn’t it?

’ she said.

‘What?’

‘If women had been allowed to fight in Clochain’s army, you might’ve won the border wars and saved us all from this mess.

But here we fucking are.

’

She gave over fully, letting the swell of her instinct guide her forwards, then she ran at him, using his bent knee as a springboard to drive herself upwards, leaping onto his shoulders with lightning speed where her legs wrapped around his neck to squeeze.

He tried to pry her off, but she held firm, grunting in pain as he threw himself down to try and dislodge her.

They rolled; her head hitting the ground and her vision shuddered, but still she held him wrapped in a chokehold until his movements became jerky.

He gasped, fingers scraping against her thighs.

There was nothing in the world but the feel of his body beneath her, nothing that could stop the explosions that popped under her skin as they grappled.

And then he tapped.

The feeling of his breath on her legs made her loosen her grip, and she rolled off, letting herself bask in the feeling of victory.

‘Holy shit,’ Avi said in amazement.

When her panting subsided, she sat up, feeling a twinge in her muscles.

She was going to hurt tomorrow, but right now she didn’t care.

That had been a clean, pure fight and she wanted to do it all over again.

She looked around, noting the mass of onlookers, the soldiers’ expressions ranging from outrage to disgust.

Only one face grinned from the crowd, and it was Oriann’s.

Fyn rolled to his side and stared at her.

Fire ripped through the tug and she clenched her jaw to stop from hissing.

Lies, all of it.

But it didn’t stop the fact that should they pass the third ceremony, their lives would be inextricably tied together.

Forever.

She took a breath and channelled Myrra, trying – for once – to get the politicking thing right.

She stood, brushed the dirt off her pants, and offered a hand to him.

He looked at her, expression unknowable, and took her outstretched palm.

She grunted in surprise as he levered himself to stand, the pull between them so taut she thought she might snap in half.

Their gazes clashed and sparks danced in his eyes, and just when she thought the tug would finally reveal itself to be the twinsoul bond or the work of a salacious demigod hellbent on revealing them as Ever Blessed – it broke, leaving nothing but absence, nothing but two warring captains staring at each other.

Elva didn’t know what to feel.

Her adrenalin pumped, and only the soldiers’ scornful reactions marred the high of her victory.

She followed Fyn back to the command pavilion, ready to get an earful about training in public.

‘I’m going to get some food and rest my leg,’ Avi said loudly behind her when the command pavilion was in sight.

She turned but he blatantly ignored her and began limping down a row of tents, Oriann accompanying him.

‘Some guard you are,’ she muttered, shooting daggers into his back.

He laughed, raising a hand to wave without turning.

Oriann at least had the courtesy to turn and dip her head, even if her eyes gleamed with mirth.

Fyn disappeared behind the canvas and she wondered if she should cut her losses and run.

The thought was tempting, but her damn masochistic curiosity got the better of her, so she followed him into the tent.

Fyn moved to one of the chairs and sat, the wood groaning under his weight when he leaned down to untie his boots.

She stared at him.

‘You fight like no one I’ve seen before,’ he said.

She continued staring at him.

‘I’d like to learn.

In fact, I’d like the whole army to learn.

’

She paused, making sure she’d heard him right before saying.

‘You want me to teach you – and Clochain’s army – Vettonian Warrior techniques?

’

He looked up, and just as quickly averted his gaze.

‘I suppose when you put it like that it sounds weird. But you’re good, Elva—’ His voice cracked and he coughed, doubling down on the formality of his tone.

‘It would be foolish to pass on this opportunity.’

‘What the hell are you playing at, Fyn?’

His eyes clouded, and one of his boots thumped to the ground.

‘What do you mean?’

She threw her head back and sighed.

There was a reason all her relationships with men had been for a good time and not a long time.

Even with everything that had happened with Remi in the aftermath of Neve’s death, she’d never had to wonder where she stood because they’d always talked about it.

‘Last night, I asked you to stay. And then this afternoon we were fine, until we weren’t.

Because I told you about my ex- girlfriend and your wounded pride flared like a damn firelight.

Now you’re asking me to train like nothing’s wrong?

Please explain the logic to me because I’m failing to see it.

’ She threw her hands up and marched away, unable to stomach being near him.

‘Wait, what?’

She laughed.

What other reaction was there?

She turned, pacing on her side of the tent.

‘I want to be able to trust you, Fyn, and for you to trust me. But this hot and cold act you’ve got going on?

I am deeply uninterested in it.

I don’t care if we’re on different pages, but we’re stuck together whether we want to be or not.

At least let’s be honest about that.

’

He strode across the tent, and as he loomed over her she saw a small trickle of blood on his cheek.

When had she done that?

‘Say that again.’ His voice was low and she could have sworn there was an edge to it.

She rubbed her face and took a step back.

He halted, lightning crashing in his eyes.

‘I think there’s been a mistake,’ he said.