A Song of Faithless Shadows

27. Shorelined

Gwyneth

"You aren't trained for water combat," Azriel wastes no time to corner me when me and my sisters have returned to the house of wind before the challenge, Cassian busying himself with sharpening my blade.

"Correction: you never trained me for water combat," I point out. "But, Shadowsinger, I happen to think it gives me a distinct advantage."

"You don't need the edge," he says, crossed. "You have technique on him-"

"And he has size and strength on me," I reply, being realistic. The man was huge, and cruelty settled in his eyes like sediment in a delta. "This is me hedging my bets."

"You truly feel more confident in the river?" Nesta asks quietly.

I take a breath. "I haven't been in the water since..." I glance at Azriel, though consciously deciding to ignore that look on his face. "But it's in my blood. In the water... it feels so distinct, some evolutionary advantage. Like anyone else would be stumbling and slipping over the current but somehow I feel all the more agile, concise."

"I just want you to know," Emerie begins, adjusting my leathers. "That you are out of your mind."

"I second that," Azriel puts in.

"Come on, Azzy," Cassian says, holding the sword up to the light, inspecting the edge of it, with a confident grin. "Consider this a lesson in water combat for all of us."

"Thanks, Cassian," I smile at my instructor, my friend.

Nesta snatches the sword from him, face stern as she brings it to me. "I want you to embarrass those motherfuckers, Gwyny," she says quietly. "Let them be beat by a woman. Let them perish from the fragility of their egos. I can't think of a more deserving man than Keir."

"It's too bad he sends a challenger to fight in his stead," I consider. "I'd like the chance to prove it to him directly."

"I second that," Azriel echoes again, and I glance at him.

"You'll fly me to the Sidra?" I ask him. He nods cordially.

"Of course." Darkness simmers around the room, as if it were starved for something- perhaps bloodshed.

I nod to my friends. "I'll see you all at the bank?" I ask, tightening my ponytail.

Nesta nods, and Emerie smiles. "I'll be the one screaming for you to slice him across the balls," Emerie says quite graphically, which is enough to make me smile before stepping into the Shadowsinger.

"Why midnight?" He asks me in the air.

I blink up at him, watching the wind sweep his dark hair across his brow. "What?"

"You requested to fight at midnight," he says. "Why?"

I shrug. "Not sure," I reply. "Maybe it was theatrics or spite. Maybe I admire the way moonlight glitters across the Sidra. Maybe it's because I'm deadliest in the dark."

His brows raise. "Are you?" He tilts his head, looking like he wants to say something further, though I couldn't begin to imagine what with the drop of his lids.

I just nod. "I think I'm best when you can't see me coming."

The look on his face settles into something quieter, more reserved- a default of his, though I wouldn't dare say he often makes this expression. "I think I agree."

Azriel

Gwyneth wasn't nearly as rattled about this challenge as I was, though I'd like to think I'm holding it together pretty well.