“So?” I said, after a long silence passed. “I can march with you?”
He set down his pen. Raised his gaze.
People tended to assume that Arachessen, given our condition, didn’t care about eye contact, but that’s false. Yes, I could sense a presence without ever turning my head toward them, but I sensed plenty more with a gaze meeting mine. It’s amazing what I could see when one extended a thread of their own. Most revealed more than intended.
Atrius’s stare was an exception. It felt like having your chin tipped up with the point of a dagger. Not an overt threat, but never losing the potential to become one with the most minute movement.
“I’m—” I let my voice waver. “I’m ashamed to say that I’m afraid, commander. That’s the truth of it.”
“I’m not sure that I believe that,” he said.
I couldn’t help it—I was a little indignant. “You don’t believe that I’m afraid of the Arachessen? That’s just common sense, isn’t it?”
“I don’t believe that.” He jabbed his pen at me. “That little chin wobbling thing. Enough of the theatrics.”
My brows lurched a little.
This man. Full of surprises.
I gave him a small, conspiratorial smile, like I was letting him in on a secret joke.
“I’m sorry. A woman alone in this world sometimes needs to perform to make men take her seriously.”
Only a little true. Perform, or suppress. Rarely anything in the middle.
“It’s not helping me take you seriously.” He set down his pen and stood, crossing the room to stand before me. Once again, I felt like I was being examined—like any minute he might start critiquing my posture.
I straightened my back, as if to lift myself up to his height. A losing game, of course—I wasn’t short by any means, but he was very tall.
“But I promise you,” I said, more seriously—making sure to inject a little of that shame, that fear, into my voice, “that my fear is real. I can be an asset to you on that battlefield, commander. But I certainly can’t do anything for you if the Arachessen kills me first.”
He took me in, considering.
“You’ll have no bodyguards,” he said. “Every man and woman with me will be focused on their task and their own survival. I won’t ask any of them to put your protection over that.”
“I understand that.”
“I’m not sure that you do.”
I laughed. “You have no idea the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. I’m a killer too, Atrius. Don’t underestimate me.”
His eyes narrowed. Then he turned around and rummaged through a pile of packs in the corner. When he returned, my heart leapt—he was bearing my sword, which had been taken the night Erekkus had brought me from the inn.
He said nothing as he handed it to me, nor as I cradled it for a long moment.
And then, just as I was about to open my mouth to thank him, he drew his sword and swung it.
The strike was perfectly executed—so sudden and swift and glass-smooth it barely rippled the air, and it was aimed right at my throat.
He was good. Fast. But I was faster. I sensed the movement before he could execute it.
I drew my own weapon, letting the scabbard fall to the ground as I met his swing.
The clash of our weapons, steel against steel, reverberated through the tent. My weapon—sleeker than his, a rapier compared to his saber—strained under the weight of his strike.
But he didn’t rely on his strength alone. He didn’t let the contest hold for more than a few seconds before he pulled back and came at me again.
I couldn’t let him draw blood. I knew he, like his men, surely wielded blood magic. One nick of my skin and I was done.
No, I wouldn’t let him get that far.
I matched his speed, anticipating his movements. It was harder than I was used to. Most minds hinted at their next move before their muscles did, but not Atrius’s. It was as if he fought completely in the moment, not thinking ahead but wholly reacting, relying on instinct.
Our steel met again, again, again. We circled around the room, dancing through the small space, the close quarters making each strike focused and efficient.
I didn’t mind fighting. Didn’t mind letting him toy with me. Actually, I relished the opportunity to observe him—even if every new piece of information seemed to only hint at a new mystery.
I stumbled as a particularly strong blow nearly flung me through the tent wall.
A smile twisted his lips—just a hint of satisfaction, there and gone again.