These Ivory Swords

| Chapter Nine |

She'd stalked the parapet in a perfect square four times before realizing the roof she was looking for was the flat landing beside the main turret.

Iliya avoided the jagged breaks in the pavement with ease, kicking shards of stone that skittered into the ferns below.

Unlike other castles, this architecture was a show of networked symmetry. Sprawling rectangular gates swallowed the gardens with spired gazebos and park benches before they spread toward the forest beyond. At each corner, either a supply chamber or the looming lookouts depicted in old war texts.

From the opposite corner, she'd been able to see a patient silhouette waiting.

A narrow spiral staircase made Iliya dizzy as she tried to scale her way up an old utility tower with cobwebs and moss lining the walls. Her fingers slipped against the stone as she tried to brace herself, leaving them unmistakably wet.

Too wet.

Grimacing, she rubbed the sensation off on a pair of loose cotton pants she'd found stuffed in the back of the closet. Her new closet.

New everything.

Iliya refrained from touching anything in the room this morning, only grabbing the clothes she needed for her training with Damien.

Said king—a silhouette with his back to her—stood with his arms crossed in black denim pants and a loose green shirt. Her grandfather blended in with the trees as wind tousled his hair, as if the bitter cold answered only to him.

She shivered.

Her fingers curled into the thick, knitted fabric of a cardigan she found folded on the couch.

Qudja must've guessed she wasn't familiar with the cold and left it for her.

"You're late," Damien said without turning, though his deeper voice was warm. "Did you get lost?"

Iliya frowned. "You didn't exactly tell me where to go."

The king's head tipped to the side, the contour of his raised brow speaking volumes.

He waited.

She considered what question he was actually posing with that look and if that was the expression he offered all of his subjects. Why was he hiding the small smile curving his lip?

His presence felt soothing.

"Why did you bring me up here?"

"Because you crossed the Yinae to learn and I intend to teach you," he replied, facing her fully. "Look at me."

Her brows furrowed. She was staring at him. In fact, she was staring at him so hard her eyes were watering and the lines between him and the sunset began to blur.

Damien laughed. "Nice try, but I don't mean physically."

"What?" Iliya muttered. "If not with my eyes, then what?"

"Let me guess," he mused, walking around a perfectly painted black circle. His steps matched the line as he spoke. "Ezre taught you how to use your senses to anticipate your enemies moves, he even sparred with you himself to ensure you could hold your own against a trained Warrior. Then, eventually, he grew lazy. Lazy enough you were able to read where the next strike was coming from solely based on his eyes. And then he stopped using mana until you were fighting an ordinary soldier."

She paused mid-headshake. Ezre might've grown lazy, but he only stopped using mana when her condition flared. He was predictable though.

"He only stopped using mana when my condition worsened..." Iliya said quietly. She didn't even want to talk about her family yet, but this felt oddly necessary. "But his training was very hands-on. He even got mad at me when I used my—"