Page 8 of Monsters in the Museum (Defenders of the Light #1)
Chapter eight
A trickle of sweat rolled down Xander’s back as he screwed his eyes shut. Trying to keep a ward around this large of a group by himself took more concentration than he was accustomed to. He breathed in and let it out slowly as he opened his eyes, settling into the feeling of the Light pouring through his veins and out the tip of his Xiphos. Seeing the air in front of him glimmer with the slight iridescence of a soap bubble, he smiled in victory and anchored the ward in place.
Xander was used to helping with the renewal of the permanent ward around the Sanctuary, but that was done with the power of dozens of people, and they were strengthening something that already existed. Creating a ward out of the Light by himself was something completely new. It was a skill he wouldn’t have been expected to master for many more years, but these were dark times, and everybody was being pushed past their limits.
With the ward stable around him, Xander returned his attention to the field where the young Defenders and Warriors were locked in a mock battle. By his assessment, the fighters on the East side of the field would soon be victorious.
A grim smile tugged at his features as his team’s “injured” fighters panted inside the ward he had created. His eyes swept over the field outside the transparent barrier, seeking out a familiar figure. As usual, he found Aediene at the center of the melee, spear twirling about her in untraceable arcs of bronze. Nobody seemed to be able to come within several feet of her without being forced back by a shot of light from the end of her weapon or marked with the red chalk on the edge of her blunted blade, which designated them as “injured.” A few chestnut curls had escaped from her braid and clung to her sweat-coated face. Somebody had managed to tear one side of her crimson tunic, but she didn’t seem to notice the length of thigh it left exposed. Xander had to school his gaze not to linger on the creamy sin of her bare leg.
As he watched her, Xander’s grim smile turned genuine. There were few times that Aediene looked as glorious as she did in the heat of battle. As she incapacitated the last few challengers from the other team, she shot a glance over her shoulder, her eyes bright from the exertion, back to where Xander stood with a triumphant smile. As she glanced at him, she turned away from the battle and failed to notice the last Warrior from the opposing team sneaking up behind her. Not having time to yell, Xander threw up his hand, and a wall of Light sprang up in front of the Warrior for a split second. It only served to slow him down, but it caught Aediene’s attention and gave her enough time to whirl around and hit him in the stomach with the blunt end of her spear, knocking him into the churned mud at her feet.
Leaving the other Warrior to catch his breath, Aediene trudged her way over to where Xander was standing, and he let the ward that surrounded him and the other members of their team drop so she could step closer. She was still panting as she commented, “Don’t you think casting an entire ward by yourself was showing off just a little bit?”
“Oh, and what you were doing out there wasn’t?” he retorted.
She playfully punched him in the shoulder, making him stagger back a step. He was quite a bit taller than her, but still rather lanky, and sometimes, after hours of combat training, she forgot that she didn’t need to push everybody quite so hard.
Noticing that she’d knocked him back, Aediene grimaced. “Sorry.”
Before Xander could respond that she could knock him down any time she wanted to, they were interrupted by the approach of Ezra, the training master.
“Okay, knock it off, lovebirds,” he rumbled.
Xander looked down to study the trampled grass at his feet. While everybody teased him and Aediene about their obvious affection, there wasn’t much to it besides a close friendship and a pile of borrowed books. After watching Aediene reject every Warrior who approached her, sometimes repeatedly, he knew better than to test his luck.
Ezra’s voice made him look up from where he was digging his sandals into the mud. “We’re going to have to split the two of you up next time.”
“What? Why?” Xander spluttered.
A weary voice piped up from somewhere in the background. “Because always having them on the same side gives them an unfair advantage?”
“Yeah, I’m tired of eating dirt,” another voice chimed in.
Ezra held up a large hand for silence. “No.” His voice was stern, but his scowl had softened a fraction. “Because the two of you have come to depend on each other too much. You cover for all of each other’s mistakes, not allowing yourselves to learn.”
He was right. Xander and Aediene had fallen into an automatic pattern in battle. She would cover him while he created wards, and he would help her cover holes in her defenses. It was useful, but Xander knew they wouldn’t always be near each other in a real battle.
Still, as Xander and Aediene trekked back up the hill to the Sanctuary to clean their weapons, he said to her, “You know I’ll still cover your back, even if you’re on the other team.”
“I know,” she said. She glanced over at him as her tone turned teasing, “You can’t help but defend somebody who looks as beautiful as Athena with their spear.”
Xander almost tumbled headfirst into the ground but struggled to regain his footing and righted himself at the last second.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Aediene snorted. “I know you’re the one who has been leaving notes in my books. Only you have handwriting that painfully neat.”
Xander turned as red as her tunic, but she continued.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “I like your notes. I think they’re sweet.”
Xander’s stomach clenched. He had been aiming for something more along the lines of dashing or romantic. Notes from your Grandmother were sweet.
“I can stop sending them if you’d rather,” he offered. “I know you already have plenty of admirers.” They had reached the columns of the Sanctuary, and he paused in the shade, almost scared to look at Aediene’s face but unable to resist sneaking a glance.
Aediene stopped, too, turning to face him with an inscrutable expression on her face. Xander was tempted to apologize again for the notes when Aediene grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pressed her lips to his. It was a short, chaste kiss, but Xander could have lived his entire life in that moment. Her body pressed against his, and he could feel the warmth of their earlier exertion radiating off her. If Aediene hadn’t had a firm grasp on the front of his tunic, he might have melted into a puddle where he stood.
When she pulled away, she met his eyes expectantly, but Xander was mute. She sighed as she turned away and she muttered under her breath. “It was worth a shot.”
Xander was generally a man who believed in the beauty of spoken language, but for once in his life, he decided to let his actions speak for him. Before Aediene could make it two steps up the hill, he grasped her by the wrist and pulled her back to kiss her once more.