A month. More than that. It hadn’t really hit me how long it had been, until I physically felt the way my body had changed in that time.
With every panting breath, every drill, every strike against the stiff fabric of the training dummy, it dug a little deeper.
A month.
More than a full cycle of the moon that my father had been dead.
I tried to outrun this thought. Tried to make my muscles hurt more so my heart hurt less. It didn’t work. The thoughts still chased me.
A month.
And I’d just made an alliance with the man who murdered him.
And now I’d cracked open the door to a single innocuous thought, and before I could stop myself, it was becoming something monstrous.
A month.
How many times had I been in this training ring with Vincent? Countless. I could practically hear him now, barking orders at me.
Faster. Harder. Don’t be sloppy. You aren’t trying hard enough, little serpent. That will not be good enough when it counts.
He’d pushed me so hard. Sometimes I’d end our sessions collapsing in a pool of my own vomit.
I pushed you because I wanted you to be safe, Vincent whispered in my ear.
He pushed me so I could protect myself.
Everything in this world is dangerous to you, he reminded me.
Because I was human.
But I wasn’t.
It was a lie. All of it.
My strikes against the dummy grew faster, harder, sloppy. My lungs burned. Chest ached. Nightfire bloomed at the edge of my blade, surrounding me with flecks of white.
But I wasn’t.
How many times had I practiced my magic with Vincent in this ring? How many times had he told me that my power would likely never amount to anything?
Had that been a lie, too?
Did you know? I asked him now, driving another blow into the training dummy, the stuffing collapsing under the force.
Vincent’s voice was silent.
Why didn’t you tell me?
Why did you lie to me, Vincent? Why?
Silence. Of course.
The Nightfire flared in a wild surge, surrounding me in a blinding burst. With a ragged roar, I slammed my weapon into the dummy, sending it toppling to the floor. My strike was so clumsy, so vicious, I accidentally sent my blade with it, the metal hitting the ground with a deafening clatter.
I barely heard it over the sound of my panting breaths.
And then I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“Didn’t realize just how lucky I am to be alive until I saw that.”
Raihn.
I squeezed my eyes shut, quickly swiping away tears. Fuck.
“Right,” I choked out. It sounded pathetically weak.
“You sound out of breath, though.”
Oh, fuck him.
“I’m just out of practice.”
“Want a partner?”
“No.”
He approached anyway.
I still didn’t want to look at him, embarrassed about what I’d allowed him to see. Me crying and punching the air like a child. Nice.
But his silence was too long. Too meaningful.
Finally, I turned to him.
“What?” I snapped.
He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it.
“Nothing. You sure you don’t want to spar? Better than punching the dummy. Going to have to train with me eventually.” He reached for his sword, raising a brow. Only now did it occur to me how strange it was that he always kept it on him, even when he was walking around his own castle. Maybe he felt just as uncomfortable in this place as I did.
He added, with a conspiratorial half-smile, “I’m only offering because I don’t see any windows you can throw me out of this time.”
I didn’t know why I hesitated. I did need to remind myself of how Raihn fought—needed to make sure I would be able to strike him down when I had to.
And yet… it made me uncomfortable.
I shoved that sensation away and bit out, “Fine. If you want to spar, then let’s spar.”
And I didn’t give Raihn time to react before I lunged.
But he was ready. He blocked and countered me easily.
All of it was easy—that was what made it so difficult.
When I had fought Raihn in the armory, I’d so hated to be reminded of how well we knew each other, how seamlessly we fought together. Now, wielding my blades rather than that clumsy sword, the ghosts of our final battle in the Kejari surrounded us. The ache of my muscles faded away. The two of us hurtled across the training ring together as if locked in a dance.
I hated this, and I loved it. It was something solid to grab onto, something mindless and painful in all the physical places I could handle. And yet, every one of Raihn’s strikes reminded me of the familiarity we’d once had. Reminded me of what he had used it to do.