It felt wrong to laugh when so much hung in the balance, but Corayne laughed all the same. “Has anyone told you how strange you all are?”
Sigil winked. “How strange we are, Cor girl. And you’re far from finished,” she said, gesturing for Corayne to start again. Reluctant, the girl did as told, squaring off with a bounty hunter twice her size.
“Punch here. One,” Sigil said, raising her right hand, palm out. “Punch here. Two.” The left hand. “And keep those feet moving. Duck when I strike.”
“I’d rather you didn’t strike,” Corayne mumbled, her hand still smarting.
Sigil didn’t give her any more time to grumble, both hands dancing in succession. “One, two, two, one, two, one, one.” She raised each in succession, catching Corayne’s blows in her massive hands.
When she yelled, “Duck!” Corayne was ready, dropping under a swipe from her long arm, with a grin.
“Good!” Sigil cried out, her smile wide, showing big teeth. “Good concentration. You’ve got focus; you know where to keep your eyes. That’s something.” She tapped Corayne on the forehead. “Now duck,” she cackled.
I suppose I should be used to the ground by now, Corayne thought, hitting the grass with a painful thud. She heaved a shaking breath. Sigil struck like a charging horse and her head spun. The corner of her mouth smarted, wet with a trickle of blood.
“Are you afraid?” Sorasa’s face wheeled above her, crowned in dizzying stars.
Corayne didn’t have the strength to lie. “Yes.”
Judging by Sorasa’s smile, it was the right answer.
“Fear is a well-honed instinct, useful as any steel edge,” she said. “It’s kept me alive more times than I care to count. So let that fear in, let it fill you up, let it whisper and guide. But do not let it rule.”
Corayne shakily nodded her head. “I won’t let it rule.”
The assassin looked satisfied. “There are no greater teachers than fear and pain.”
“By the wings of Baleir, what are you doing?”
A blur of golden hair and emerald-green eyes shouldered Sorasa out of the way, pulling Corayne to her feet. She wavered, unsteady, clutching an arm for support. There was pain, but she leaned into it. The pain means I learned something.
Sorasa snarled, a tiger before the hurricane. She jabbed a finger into his chest, color rising in her cheeks. “What we should’ve done since the second we found her.”
Dom eagerly rose to the challenge, snarling right back. “Corayne is the hope of the realm, the only thing standing between Allward and complete destruction.”
The assassin threw up her hands, exasperated, losing her infinite control piece by piece. “Exactly! She should know how to defend herself when we can’t.”
Someone dabbed at her lip and Corayne turned to find Andry standing close, a kerchief in hand, the edge of it stained red. She took it gratefully, holding the cloth to her bleeding mouth.
“It’s fine. They’re good teachers,” she said, stepping between Dom and Sorasa. Almost as good as pain and fear. “Even if I’m bad at almost everything.”
The Elder and the assassin glared at each other, breaking at precisely the same time, turning on their heels to stalk away. Thank the gods, Corayne thought.
While the rest set to cooking breakfast, Andry hesitated, remaining close.
Corayne checked her lip with her fingers, then realized she was probably covered in dirt. She felt oddly self-conscious in front of him, though Andry Trelland had seen her in all states by now.
“Your horsemanship could use some work as well,” he mumbled, scuffing a boot.
When she struck his shoulder, she was careful to keep her thumb untucked.
27
SERPENT
Andry
They boarded the trader at a fishing village, this time under Sigil’s advice. She seemed to know everyone Sorasa did not, and passage on a ship bound for Almasad came cheap.
“Another godsdamned boat,” Dom sputtered, staring into the sea below.
After two days on the water, Andry was thanking his lucky stars that he was not plagued with seasickness, doomed to empty his guts over the side of the ship rail as Dom did. The Elder was better today, but still green as his cloak, his infinite focus fixed on the waves lapping against the side of the Larsian galley. The others gave him a wide berth, though Charlon kept offering him wine, which Dom kept refusing. Valtik said a charm over him, which possibly made things worse. Sorasa ignored him entirely, deep in conversation with Sigil at the prow of the ship, the women as starkly different as night and day.