All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 28: One Promise

The sky faded from midnight blue to morning mauve. Ice crystals coated the training field along with an elbow-deep fog. The grass was empty short of three crows, and I thanked the sky for it as I carried weapons but no Second Guard.

On the field, reveling in the feeling of trousers and leathers, I breathed in the morning air. It burned, icicles nipping at my lungs. I needed to remind myself who I was and why I'd come to Castle Moer in the first place and what better a way than to work my muscles until they trembled.

Retrieving the ax from my waist, I inspected it for flaws. My sister had once kept the weapon perfect and I intended to, as well. I ran my finger over the crisp sides of the blade, careful not to touch its sharp edge.

Swords were popular for obvious reasons, but Arin had taught me to admire the versatility of the ax. They grabbed and crushed, hooked and decapitated. Axes destroyed where a sword severed. The blade might leave a trail of limbs in its wake, but an ax would split armor and pry open ribcages with half the weight and all the violence. But only if you knew how to use it.

I began with a few stretches, rolling my wrists, loosening my shoulders, limbering my ankles. Then I moved the weapon in a familiar downward pattern, pushing the ax toward an imagined target. I disarmed the air. I hacked it open. I ripped it in two.

From there, I practiced guarding with my opposite arm against my chest for Arin always swung at the softness there, knowing my weaknesses better than anyone. As I moved from one position to the next, the movements came easier, and I allowed muscle memory to take over. I swung and dodged, ducked and countered, the tension knotted in my shoulders releasing with each swing. The cool Ideostara air pecked at the beads of sweat gathering on my brow. I wiped them away, took a moment to catch my breath, then pivoted in practiced evasion just as Arin had taught. With each snap of my wrist or extension of my elbow or bend of the hip Arin moved with me. Her spirit formed in my shadow. I heard her critiques in my head. It was a welcome respite from the other voice who'd taken up residence.

Before I knew it, sweat mixed with fresh, salty tears. They clouded my sight. I didn't care. Let them run. Let the sorrow and grief, anger and frustration leak from me like blood cleaning a wound. I was so tired of carrying the weight of it and if, like the energy beneath my skin, I could release just enough of it, I might be able to make it through another day because I needed to make it through another day.

With heaving breath, I pushed myself harder, celebrated the stretching aches and soreness. Strike hard enough, be patient enough, get strong enough and nothing would get between me and my promise to Arin. I wouldn't let her down again, not for my own safety and certainly not for some foolish man like Thorne.

Off the water, a sea breeze lifted my braid and my senses with it. For a second, I almost expected Mook to pad out from under the bush as he always did when Arin and I trained. But Mook was back in Kelvia. Arin was somewhere in the between.

I reached for the dagger secured to my leg, turned, and chucked it at the closest hay target. It hit dead center rendering a distinct flattening of grass underfoot. My heart thundered.

"Reveal yourself," I called. "I know you're there." The electric pulse of his presence alerted me long before I'd heard his boots. Had he sought me out? Running into him by the library had been a consequence of my state, but there was little chance he simply happened upon me this time. Not with the morning fog, anyway. Weren't there other places he ought to be? Like ruining someone's plans, making vague insinuations, or Nathara's bed chamber, perhaps?

Cloaked in cloudy morning mist, Thorne stepped forward. "Perhaps I wanted you to hear me," he said with a lopsided grin. He dressed in the same worn leather and trousers in which I'd met him the night prior. A belt crisscrossed at his waist. A cloak draped his shoulders. The memory of Nathara unclipping both soured my stomach. "So as not to spook you," he said, appearing wearier than usual. Something weighed on him. Something heavy.