Page 39 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

38

Dayton

M y world narrows to the points of my swords and the sound of metal hitting the wooden dummy. Step, slash, step, slash. I put myself through every routine and exercise my old trainer beat into my thick skull. Step, slash. My arms twirl, my feet falling into a practiced rhythm as my breath evens to a familiar cadence.

I push past the ache in my muscles and the frantic beating of my heart. Sweat coats my brow, my palms, and I tighten my grip. Roaring, I spin and bring my swords down.

Wood splinters and the dummy cracks in half. My chest heaves, and I blink sweat out of my eyes. The dummy is reduced to rubble, nothing but a carved-up husk. Around me, the training yard is completely still, and everyone that had been practicing is watching me. Didn’t realize I’d garnered an audience.

One of the squires rushes up to me. “It’s not often we get to witness someone from Summer train, especially of your skill, my Prince. It is a most exceptional feat. Please allow me to replace this for you.”

Nodding, I step away from the gravel square. Florendel’s training ground is located on an upper level of Keep Hammergarden, partially covered. Half of it looks over the city to the landscape beyond.

Certainly is beautiful for such a hard people. Below us are the royal gardens. I can see they dragged out old Thalionor for some air. Sun glints off his armored helm, but the rest of him is covered in a thick quilt. A few acolytes mull around him, picking flowers. One of them turns to look up, then lowers her hood.

Wrenley. She smiles and gives me a wave before turning back to the prince. I grasp the string of seashells around my neck, tilting my chin to look at the beautiful golden shell she’d gifted me. It’s fate. I can’t help but drift my gaze to the rolling hills beyond Florendel where two people are walking through a rainbow of wildflowers.

Rosalina and Farron. I take a drag of cold water from my flask. Their movements are delicate, almost as if in a ballet. They’re two small figures on the horizon, no bigger than dolls, but it’s like I can feel the love between them. A dusky pink line blankets the horizon. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been in here. Fare doesn’t care if the sun sets.

Not anymore.

On the other side of the rolling wildflower hill is a bobbing cluster of blue lights. “Those lights over there … Are they—?”

“Ahh, yes. The Lights of Fate.” The squire comes up beside me. “We often see them on the hills. They like the flowers.”

“Lights of Fate,” I repeat, absently rubbing my chest, trying not to think of the last time one of those buggers landed on me. Showed me the tangled mess that is my mate bond. The Spring Realm may have another name for the will-o’-wisps, but I still don’t want to get anywhere near them again.

“I’ve replaced the training equipment, sire.” The squire nods, then retreats.

“How about training against something that fights back?” a voice calls from the entrance. “I think that block of wood is a bit below your skill level.”

A smirk crawls up the corner of my mouth. “I suppose the High Prince of Spring ranks a little higher than wood, but we’ll see by how much.”

Ezryn steps closer. We haven’t spoken since our fight yesterday evening. He’s in his usual helm, though his armor is lighter, looser, good for movement. He swings a large broadsword in one hand. The crowd moves to the edges of the training ground and murmurs with anticipation.

Ezryn turns to them and says, “You are dismissed.”

A laugh booms out of my chest. “Don’t want an audience for your defeat?”

“Only trying to protect the Summer Prince’s reputation.”

I step on to the gravel. Dressed for training, my chest is bare besides a leather wrapping around my waist. Sturdy sandals don my feet. But none of it really matters beside my twin swords. They’re an extension of my arms, as much a part of me as my own hands. I twirl them, wondering how they’ll hold up against that Spring armor.

The Spring Prince is as stoic as ever as he steps forward. “Ready?”

“Always.” I grin.

He rushes me, positioning his sword over his head before bringing it down in a wide arc. Tucking my swords into my chest, I somersault out of the way and come up behind him. Ez may be stronger, but I’m faster. I honed my training in the arena, where I learned to fight with unmatched agility and speed. I’d like to see him duck in that heavy metal.

We’ve sparred countless times before, but something feels different about today. Our disagreement from yesterday still sits in the forefront of my mind.

Eh, better for men like us to fight it out than talk, anyway. Letting out a fierce roar, I smash both my blades against his back. He pitches forward before whirling and catching me across the stomach, leaving a thin red line.

Hissing, I retreat a few steps. We haven’t used practice weapons against each other in years, counting on our quick ability to heal and trusting each other’s skill to never land a truly damaging blow. But damn if it doesn’t sting sometimes.

With a resounding clash, our swords meet again. The impact reverberates through my arms, but I hold my ground. Ezryn’s brute force pushes me back across the loose gravel.

“Just admit it,” I growl.

“Admit what?”

I dance out of the lock. “That your brother is up to something. I’m not going to apologize for saying it.” I strike with precision, aiming for the gaps in his armor.

Ezryn dodges. “I’m not here to talk about Kairyn.”

Frustration grows heavy in my chest. The swords flurry through the air. Sparks erupt each time our blades collide, the sound echoing through the training ground like a battle cry. “Then why are you here?”

Ezryn ignores my question and swings his broadsword in a wide arc, attempting to knock me off balance. I sidestep the attack, my feet moving with the agility of a summer breeze. I strike low, aiming for his exposed leg, but Ez’s reflexes are swift, and he parries.

Sweat drips from my brow, and my muscles ache from my already-long training session. But the Spring Prince doesn’t relent. The sparring match continues, a dance of steel and skill.

Ez’s strength pushes against me, but I evade his strikes with practiced ease. Neither of us can gain an advantage.

“Why are you here?” I scream again.

His silence is worse than any answer he could give, and my frustration only grows.

“Why are you here?” I strike at him with each word.

He blocks me every time.

I hate that I can’t see his expression and the way I can’t even hear his breath. He won’t listen to me about his brother. But why would he? I’m just the drunken Prince of Summer who let his own brothers die. Who doesn’t deserve his Blessing, only this curse—

My anger grows hotter, and my wolf rears inside me. He knows night is close. And maybe my eyes are glowing because there’s a strange reflection in Ezryn’s armor.

But it doesn’t unnerve the armored asshole. He counters every attack, and it feels like the black T of his visor stares into my soul.

“They’re mates!” The words come out of me unbidden in a half-feral snarl. And I’m so shocked by them I lose my grip and fall to my knees in the gravel. Pebbles fly up around me.

My body begins to shake. Shake like I walked into the damned Winter Realm. My sweat feels cold over my skin. “They’re mates,” I say again, as if it’s the first time I realized it.

First time I really let it sink beneath my bones.

Ezryn carefully lowers his sword and puts a gloved hand on my shoulder, but the gesture causes me to lose the last of my strength. I fall against his chest.

Not unlike the time he healed my broken body in the Autumn Realm.

“They’re perfect,” I say, voice laden with exhaustion. “The two of them are perfect. Beautiful and kind and brave. Why shouldn’t they be together? It makes so much sense. Kel, too. Someone to protect them when their hearts make them vulnerable.”

“Dayton,” Ezryn says. “Rosalina and Farron may be mates, but they love you.”

Salty tears run into my mouth, and it reminds me of home. “There’s no need for me. There’s no place for me.”

“That’s not true.” Ezryn touches my bicep, over the golden cuff that marks my bargain with Farron. I gave him access to my magic at any time as long as he never forgets the moment we made the bargain.

“A weak imitation. I don’t suspect it’s anything like a mate bond.” I give a long sigh.

“My mother used to tell me not to mourn the flower in bloom because you know one day it will wilt, for then you are forsaking its beauty.” Ezryn tilts his gaze to the horizon. “Their love for you blooms now, and you do not yet have a mate.”

I inhale a shaky breath, grasping at my seashell necklace, and manage to sit up. “Is this why you’re here? You knew I was about to break. How?”

“There are signs when a person has strong emotions caged,” he says.

And just how long have you been caging your emotions, Ez?