“When I came to this valley, the only other Eyriens I knew about were you and Luthvian. If our family ends up being the only Eyriens in Ebon Rih, or Askavi, or the whole Realm of Kaeleer, so be it. If they can’t figure out how fortunate they are to have you as their ruler, then they don’t deserve you.”
She rose from the waist-high water with enough angry energy that he ducked his head to keep from being splashed in the eyes.
“Marian? Are you pissed off at me?”
Stepping out of the pool, she wrapped a towel around herself and stomped to the doorway. “I’m pissed off at Eyriens, and you’re the only one handy. You figure it out.”
Lucivar stared at the doorway for a full minute after she left, then sank back in the water.
“Well . . . damn.” He might be sleeping alone tonight after all.
TEN
“Stop hovering,” Surreal said as she and Rainier walked into the communal eyrie.
“I’m not hovering. I have my own workout to do. Frankly, I want to go home, and I can’t until I’ve completed all the steps Lucivar and Jaenelle have decided are required.” Rainier shivered. “Mother Night. I never thought about it being so cold here in winter.”
Winter in Amdarh was much milder, not to mention all the shops, dining houses, and theaters that could be enjoyed during an idle, wintry afternoon. And the lovely sitting room in the town house where she could curl up and read for hours at a time if she felt like it.
What was winter like in Dea al Mon? She hadn’t thought to ask Chaosti before he returned home to prepare the clan for her visit.
How much preparation did they need to do to accommodate one person? Maybe she should ask Jaenelle about that. She didn’t want to cause problems for her kinsman.
“When do you think you’ll go back to Amdarh?”
“Hopefully soon.” Rainier hesitated. “I wish my leg hadn’t been injured, and more than that, I wish I hadn’t acted like a fool about it. But the work Daemon offered me will be challenging, and I’m ready to get started.”
“And ready to tell your family that you don’t need pity work and they can take a piss in the wind?” she asked.
He sighed. “That too. Although I will be more polite in how I phrase it.”
Surreal grinned. “That’s because you’re not a cold bitch.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Come on. We’re here to sweat, so let’s sweat.”
She stripped off her coat, called in her sparring stick, and began going through the warm-up moves.
She felt good, better than she had in weeks. Still a touch raspy when her lungs were working hard or when she’d been out in cold air too long, but she felt lighter now, freer.
Except for one piece of unfinished business that kept scratching at her—the piece Jaenelle said Lucivar would help her finish.
Thank the Darkness this practice was in the afternoon, when few Eyriens would be present. She didn’t want an audience for whatever Lucivar had in mind.
She’d completed her warm-up and was going through the moves a second time when Lucivar walked in, followed by Hallevar, Tamnar, and Jillian. The girl ran to the selection of sparring sticks that were kept on one wall and returned with two. Handing one to Tamnar, she settled into her own warm-up routine.
Surreal watched Lucivar watch Jillian. Any male who thought the girl didn’t have a father to protect her was in for a rude, and rather terrifying, surprise.
After a nod of approval to Jillian and Tamnar, Lucivar called in his sparring stick and went through the warm-up. Then he stepped into the sparring circle, looked Surreal in the eyes, and smiled his lazy, arrogant smile. “Come on, darling. Let’s see if you learned anything.”
She stepped into the circle. “I’ve learned more than you think, darling.”
“Shield,” he said as he created a Red shield around himself.
She created a Green shield around herself.
He shook his head. “No. For this, witchling, you’ll need the Gray.”
“To spar?” she asked, surprised.
“To cleanse,” he replied quietly.
She understood then what he was offering—to be a target for her anger against all the enemies she hadn’t fought but who had crowded her dreams, including the Eyrien bastard who had killed Kester and hurt Rainier. In order to do that, Lucivar wasn’t going to hold back, so that she couldn’t hold back.
She glanced at Jillian, Tamnar, and Hallevar. “Maybe they should leave.” She didn’t care if Rainier stayed, but she didn’t want Lucivar to have trouble with the Eyriens over this kindness to her.
“No,” he said. “There are lessons that need to be learned. Let them learn.”
With that, he began the sparring match, his strikes against her stick so light and controlled it was almost an insult. But she didn’t push harder, didn’t escalate. Not yet.
Light. Easy. Wouldn’t stay that way. She could feel the anger rising, that last piece of unfinished business. But nothing was pushing her temper enough to snap the leash, and the sparring they were doing would exercise the body but it wouldn’t finish cleansing the heart.
Then Jillian took a step closer to the circle, and Lucivar turned on the girl and struck out. She squealed, but raised her stick and blocked the blow.
A deliberate move, but not against Jillian. The move was intended to provoke her. And it worked. Surreal felt her temper snap the leash, and she went after Lucivar hard and fast, using everything he’d taught her about fighting with the sticks.
He met her, matched her, a powerful adversary. She didn’t know how long they’d been fighting, wasn’t going to care if some fool called time. But Hell’s fire, she was feeling the rasp and burn in her lungs, so she wasn’t going to be able to go on much longer.
She used Craft to enhance the sound of her raspy breathing to make sure her adversary heard it and thought she was fading. She fumbled a move, deliberately—and saw him hesitate for a heartbeat before he responded.
“That’s enough, Surreal,” he said.
“No, it’s not.” Not until she won.
She feinted, clumsily—and saw another hesitation. Then she planted her feet in a way that looked unbalanced, and he made a move that would take a lesser opponent out of a fight. But it left his ribs exposed for just a moment.