Page 72 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he next morning, Gretta came to wake Rose, setting a small tray of tea and biscuits beside her bed, readily opening the curtains. The sun wasn’t even in the sky, but the soft glow behind the mountains signaled it’d soon make its appearance.

After eating a few bites, Rose got dressed, putting on black leather pants and a tight tunic for sparring.

She tied her hair up and out of her face, adding a cloak to her ensemble.

Once ready, she headed downstairs to find Roman, who was already waiting at the bottom of the main staircase.

He looked worn, his eyes more hollow than usual, and the whites of them were slightly pink.

“Ready?” he asked, sounding normal enough to make her worries dissipate.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far; there’s a spot on the west side of the lake I think will do just fine. Close enough we won’t need the horses.”

The woods were calm and quiet that morning, the forest creatures still sleeping before waking to survive another day.

Highland Haven faded further into the distance as they trudged on.

The lake gently brushed against the rocks in tiny waves, its deep-blue hue lightening as the sun pushed upward into the sky.

In front of her, Roman took lengthy, powerful strides, moving with ease as he weaved through the forest. No one would ever guess he’d grown up in a castle. She had to remind herself that he had just spent the last year with nothing but a patch of dirt to call home.

Roman stopped when they reached a clearing.

It was a little smaller than the one she was used to training in with Zareb but similar.

He set his canteen down along with his bag.

“This is where we’ll train today. We won’t ever spar in the same place twice.

You’ll need to get used to new surroundings. ”

When Rose didn’t respond, Roman looked over his shoulder. “You look nervous.”

“I’ve never sparred with anyone but Warren and Zareb. I’m afraid they may have over-praised me,” she said, fearing she wouldn’t meet his expectations—that he’d discover he was wasting his time.

He closed the distance between them, looking straight into her eyes. “Don’t ever sell yourself short.”

She blinked a few times before giving him a small nod, her heart slightly warmed by his confidence.

He positioned himself in the center of the field. “I want you to do your best.” He unsheathed his sword. “You’ll advance first.”

She drew her sword, widening her stance.

For the first time, she observed him as an opponent.

Roman had few weaknesses—his right arm might pose a hindrance due to the poisoned arrow wound.

His shoulder injury might limit his mobility.

His muscles had been built up over years of dedication and strength training—but it would make him an easier target.

Unfortunately, that was where her advantages ended.

She’d have to be quick and precise in her movements, try to exhaust him by making him chase her. But even so, he’d be difficult to beat.

After all, he was the general of Cathan for a reason.

Roman patiently waited for her to make the first move, swirling the sword lazily in his hand.

She leapt into action, striking with speed.

This time, unlike their first encounter, he was prepared, blocking her attempts.

Their movements fell into a sort of rhythm—she would advance, he would defend, and then he would advance, and she would mostly avoid.

The longer they sparred, the more free-flowing their swordplay became.

It evolved into an actual fight, and Rose became more confident.

Roman’s strength was undeniable—he was so strong that her sword flew from her hands more than once, no matter how hard she gripped it.

She managed to keep him on his toes, though, wearing him down slowly, still holding her ground—that was, until Roman cornered her near the tree line.

Losing focus of her surroundings, her elbow hit the base of the trunk. Her arm ricocheted, making her feet stumble.

Roman seized the moment, striking to disarm her with a powerful blow. But in his lunge forward, he left his left side vulnerable.

She shifted her weight to avoid his blow, twisting herself at near-inhuman speed, stopping her blade just before it hit his neck.

He held up his hand in surrender.

A dangerous smile claimed her lips.

The taunt raised something in Roman, alright. He clenched his jaw, becoming determined. “Again,” he ordered.

And so the morning went on. They sparred for so long, large beads of sweat dripped down from her brow to her chin.

Round after round, Roman won, once sending her flat on her back.

He demonstrated a better way to deflect a blunt blow like he’d done, instructing her to let it roll off her shoulder rather than to try to deflect.

When the sun was at its peak and their water was gone, they stopped—the shadows of the pines now facing the opposite direction.

“That was good,” Roman commended, out of breath.

“You were holding back,” Rose said with disappointment, a seed of doubt planted in her mind.

“Actually, Rose.” He paused to catch his breath. “I wasn’t.”

She raised her eyebrows, not believing him.

“You’re wicked fast,” Roman praised, looking at her like she had performed some miracle.

“Zareb was far downplaying your abilities to you. I’ve trained thousands of soldiers, and not one has gotten so far in such a short period.

You’re a natural, truly.” He studied her like he was contemplating something.

After a long pause he said, “I have a somewhat large favor to ask you.”

Her brow quirked. “What’s that?”

“I told you I have some business in Caleede, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with. I could use your help.”

Rose straightened, surprised. Whatever it was, it beat sitting alone at the manor thinking of Tri— things . “What kind of business, exactly?”

“Let’s just call it post-war efforts,” he said, avoiding the root question. “Every ten years, the capital holds a race called the Snorri. But it’s not just any race. The riders race on sleipnirs—beasts with?—”

“Eight legs,” she finished his sentence, remembering the magical creatures from the pages she’d read.

Sleipnirs were incredibly strong, fast creatures—one of the oldest species in Vallor, if she remembered correctly.

However, the horse-like beasts were notorious for being hazardous.

Many men had gone to great lengths to touch one, let alone ride one.

She could only imagine what it must take to train a sleipnir like that.

“Isn’t it illegal to race them?” she questioned, recalling the law.

Roman squinted as he swayed his head back and forth like it was a gray area.

“In theory, yes. But the man in charge of the race gets enforcers to look the other way. He claims it’s how they raise money for the city’s needs, but we all know it’s a ploy to pay off the politicians to allow them to do so.

The race generates a handsome sum of money, and even more on gambling. ”

“I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with post-war efforts?”

“Because the man in charge is named Felix Moretti. He’s a powerful man with important information about a group of insurgents we’ve been looking for. They’ve been pillaging, destroying, and killing hundreds of innocent people in cities throughout Cathan.”

Rose’s mind went back to the night she’d overheard the council. Was that what they were discussing? Was this group of insurgents responsible for causing all the mayhem in Cathan?

Roman continued, “We’ve tried finding them on our own, but I don’t know a soul who knows anything about them other than Moretti. I’ve tried meeting with him myself, but he and I have a… rough history. But he’ll be at the event to watch the races. Which is where you come in.”

“What can I do?” She still didn’t see her part in this.

His face grew uneasy—dare she say hesitant. “He’s particularly fond of… pretty women.”

Rose cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to seduce him?”

“Persuade,” he corrected. “He’s a man who’s obsessed with things he wants but can’t have.

I know if he saw you, he’d seek you out.

You don’t have to do anything except dangle yourself in front of him.

Flirt with him. Get his attention. Make him want to know you.

You just have to get close enough to put this—” he nicked a small bag of lotus powder from his bag, “—into his drink. Once you have, get him to tell you where the men are hiding. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t if I weren’t sure you’d be safe.

” Roman paused, letting her think. “Before you agree, I have to warn you, it won’t be pretty.

The atmosphere will be quite different than you’re used to, much like the tavern. ”

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking about what he was asking. She did her best to suppress the same memory that threatened to surface at the tavern.

He pulled her out of her daze, asking, “What is it?”

Her eyes met his with uncertainty. “It’s just… what if he doesn’t like me?”

Roman barked a harsh laugh. “I tell you all this, and that’s what you’re worried about?”

She wasn’t laughing.

“Trust me, that’ll be the least of your worries. But if you don’t want to, I complet?—”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted.

Roman paused. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I want to help.” If she could make a difference by gathering information, she would at least try.

He nodded slowly, his expression growing determined. “Okay then, I’ll make the arrangements and… get ready—because the race is in three days.”