Flames of Cobalt and Crimson

Preparations

Si vis pacem, para bellum.  If you want peace, prepare for war.

Azriel

I tossed and turned in bed that night, trying hard but unable to find a comfortable position. There was too much space; it was too cold, too quiet. I had been so worried about Cassian not leaving on his own that I'd failed to recognize the bigger issue: he was leaving. I rolled onto my back, spreading my wings over the width of the bed, and rubbed at my chest right over my heart. The bond ached, as though stretched by the physical distance between us. Briefly, I wondered how Rhys had borne it when Feyre spied in the Spring Court, but then I remembered his perpetually foul mood and particular vehemence while sparring during those few months.

I sighed, bringing Cassian's pillow to my face so I could bury myself in his scent, imagining the weight of his head on my chest and arm slung across my stomach. We hadn't been this far apart since mating, and while I knew there would undoubtedly be times we'd need to sleep apart, I hated it. Having felt what it was like to share a bed with the other half of my heart, the loneliness without him was especially acute.

Even though I was eventually able to fall asleep, it was neither restful nor long-lasting. I woke multiple times throughout the night, jolting upright with the terrible sense of something being wrong, before I remembered where Cassian had gone and why. As a result, both my mind and body were sluggish when I finally gave up and dragged myself out to the training ring, picking up Antares's self-defense lessons where Cassian had left off. I drilled him on his knife skills, introducing him to a move I'd used hundreds of times with Truth-Teller, and to his credit the boy was a fast learner.

The others drifted in and out, Feyre and Rhys sparring together for a bit while Mor cleaned her fingernails and watched. By the time we were ready for a break a good chunk of the morning had disappeared.

"Az?" Antares asked nervously, peering at me between sips of water. "Can I help you train with your shadows, the way you're helping me?"

I groaned internally as I felt the attention of everyone within hearing range, though they carefully avoided catching my gaze. Feyre was smirking, a dreadful habit she'd picked up from her mate, while Rhys and Mor shared a glance and drifted off toward the House together. I simultaneously loved and hated them for letting me deal with this on my own.

I looked down at Antares, who was staring up at me beseechingly, then over to Feyre. I didn't have daemati powers like her, but I silently begged her to help me. To not let me go too far. Her smile softened and she nodded in understanding, so I took a deep breath before turning back to the boy. "Alright," I relented. "Show me you can successfully block a knife strike like we've been practicing, and then we'll give it a try."

Antares whooped, picking up his wooden practice blade and hurrying into the training ring, sinking into his defensive position. I picked up my own blade and lunged at him, using a bit more speed than we'd practiced with so far, but he successfully read my intention and his own knife whipped up to block mine. I couldn't help the smile that snuck onto my face; I was proud of the child and how far he'd come. I tried again, striking from a different angle, and while he was a little slower he still managed to bring his blade around.

"Good, just like that," I praised as we disengaged and he fell back into a perfect defense. I feinted left then swung back around right, catching him off guard, and he pouted as I tapped him with the dull edge.

"That's not fair," he complained. "I blocked the first two!"

"You did," I agreed. "We'll work on reading body language next, so you can learn to spot your opponents' tells."

"But first we're going to train with shadows, right?" he asked. Gods, this child was relentless.

I sighed. "Yes. Go ahead and put these blades away. Neatly , that's it." Feyre moved closer as Antares bounded around, racking up the training knives and practically bouncing on his toes as he settled back in the training ring. I rolled my shoulders, trying to work out the tension that settled around my neck, threatening to choke me. Swallowing down the myriad objections that tried to rise within me, I stepped forward and joined him in the ring.