Goddess Of Ashes and Sun

CHAPTER THREE (Shea)

"When I asked when I started, I meant, when do I get to make speeches and murder people in their beds, not learn how gods damn eat right," I snapped, flinging my fork at Kaleb and Psyche. They dodged easily. "When in Hades darkest hell, will I need to know how to hold a damn fork right so not to offend someone?"

    "Lord Baran has asked that you be-" Psyche started, but I cut her off.

    "I'll eat however the hell I want. I'm supposed to be your assassin, not your princess."

    Kaleb picked the fork up and set it back on the dining table.

    "Fine. But we can't just throw you into the world, we have to train you."

I burst out laughing.

    "What's so funny?!" Psyche snapped.

    "Train? Me?! HA!" I said, standing up, my chair screeching across the floor, the rough sound shattering the uneasy silence of the empty dining hall.

    "Our mortal soldiers managed to capture you, you can't be that good."

    "Tík, that's because I let them. I was trained for fifteen years straight in different styles of combat by Tyr, I know how to fight." It wasn't a lie but I also had forgotten the formal styles and relyed heavily on my impulsive and freestyling versions of them.

Psyche made a growling sound, about to rip me to shreds, but Kaleb held up a hand.

    "Prove it," he said coldly and gestured to a nearby guard to give me a sword.

    "And who shall I be facing?" I asked, looking at my new sword up and down.

    "Me," Kaleb said, throwing his dark Aðal green cloak off.

    "So I'm guessing I can't kill you then?"

    "Yes. You guessed right. For once."

    I stood and followed him to the middle of the empty dining hall. I took up my stance, planting my feet firmly on the dull grey stones, and facing him. We circled, both of us waiting for the other to strike first.

    Finally, Kaleb took a swing at my torso, swinging his blade in an arcing motion. I slid out of the way, and grabbed the top of his blade with my free hand and yanked it towards my right hip. The blade cut into my hand and blood trickling warmly down my wrist.

    Kaleb made a surprised sound as he was jerked forward. He let go of his sword too late and he came hurtling towards me, and as soon as he got close enough, I struck his square in the forehead with his sword hilt with enough force to send him flying backwards.

He landed on his back, breathless. I tossed the sword aside and examined the deep cut on the palm of my hand. I'd nearly sawed the damn thing in half.

    "Do I still need training, or do you want me to show you other ways I can send you sprawling onto your ass?" I asked sweetly, looking down at Kaleb splayed across the floor. He stood slowly, rubbing his head.

    "Psyche, take Shea to get her wound dressed, then we'll talk," he finally said after a minute of glaring at me. I winked at him as Psyche guided me out of the room.

    "Hurry up, you're no good to use if you bleed to death," she snapped. She tried reaching for my arm again but after last time, I wasn't letting that tík near my arm again. I still had the bruises from last time.

"This would be so much easier if you just learned to heal yourself! It's a small cut, you should be able to do it!" She yelled in frustration.

"Tík, You're one to talk. How long did it take you to heal that paper cut? Oh yeah, that's right, three days." I waved my hand in her face, blood splattering onto her nose.