Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

H e was still nauseated.

Athdara's blow didn't knock Tay out, but it was only by sheer willpower that it hadn't. It was a fair strike, since he'd told the recruits that nothing was off-limits. She'd moved in to disable him immediately, using his most obvious weakness, so he couldn't fault her for that. He wasn't angry about it. But he was vastly surprised at the strength behind the blow and the skill with which she had delivered it.

That was no timid woman.

But she'd run off, perhaps fearful of his reaction. Not that he blamed her. He'd sent Bowen after her because he couldn't very well chase her down himself. Moreover, he had a class of recruits and wasn't about to go running after a distressed woman.

Recruit. He had to remind himself that she was a recruit. He wouldn't go chasing after any other recruit, so he wasn't going to run after her.

But it was difficult not to.

Bowen returned sometime later to tell him that the woman had packed her belongings and left through the north gate. From that point on, Tay was distracted. The more the hours passed, the farther away she was getting, and he had to resist the urge to leave his recruits to follow. At one point, St. Gerard showed up and wanted to speak with him, but he pretended to be busy, so the man wandered away. Even so, Tay struggled through the remainder of his class, which manifested itself in an unusually short temper and harsh actions. Out of nearly forty recruits, he'd lost ten by the end of the day.

As dusk approached, he finally dismissed the men, watching them limp, drag, or stumble off the field. It had been a brutal day.

For him as well.

His privates still hadn't recovered completely from the blow. They were sore, but not terribly swollen, thankfully. He'd tried to piss about midday, and there had been a little blood, so he knew there might be some damage. He could only hope everything would heal properly, or his chance to have any sons had just been lost. By the woman he more than likely wanted to bear them, no less. But it didn't take any great intellect to know he had to go after her. Something in him just couldn't let her go, not like that.

He had to find her.

The only thing in his favor was that he could travel by horse, and she'd been on foot. He knew the land around Blackchurch intimately, and he knew that she couldn't have gone too far. There was a lodge at the edge of the Exmoor forest about twelve miles to the north, so it was possible she would stop there for the night. Otherwise, she'd be sleeping in the forest, and that wasn't safe. Not even for a woman as brave as Athdara.

His horse was a big, muscular warhorse that he'd had since he was a squire. The animal wasn't built for speed, but he did have endless stamina. Trying to keep his sore privates from being pinched in the saddle, Tay kept a steady pace heading north, undoubtedly covering the distance far quicker than Athdara had. It wasn't a well-traveled road, so it was in good shape as he continued on.

To the south, his right, were fields and dales, but to his left was a dense forest. This close to Blackchurch, it wasn't known for harboring many thieves because, on occasion, Lord Exmoor would gather his trainers, soldiers, and recruits and clean out all of the forests within a ten-mile radius of Blackchurch. The outlaws had learned that over the years, so no one set up a base in Exmoor within a day's ride of Blackchurch because of it. St. Denis may have a relationship with pirates and taught knights unorthodox methods, but that was where his lawlessness ended. He didn't tolerate criminals.

Therefore, Tay wasn't concerned with the rabble as he made his way to the only lodge he knew within a day's ride to the north. He was fairly confident he would find her there, because there weren't any other roads to travel, nor were there any farmhouses to use as shelter. The wilds of Exmoor could be desolate.

Night fell.

The three-quarter moon shone upon the landscape, enough to see by. The land was bathed in a ghostly glow as Tay continued north. He estimated he would be within sight of the lodge in the next hour, and he wasn't wrong. Eventually, he could see lights in the distance and knew that the big braziers had been lit. That was traditional in the Exmoor forest, in some remote places, to have enormous iron braziers lit up against the night sky. They were beacons, but they were also warning systems, depending on the situation. Tonight, they were lit and welcoming.

Tay headed for the light.

The Rook's Nest, they called it. A low, squat lodge that had once been only three rooms and had since grown to seven or eight, including a dormitory-style chamber for sleeping travelers. It had a heavily thatched roof that was several feet thick and an old, weathered door that Tay had to bend over in order to enter through. Leaving his horse in the livery yard to be tended, that was exactly what he did.

Smoke and heat hit him in the face the moment he set foot in the common room. That blast of heat was followed by the stench of people. The place wasn't packed because of the remote location, but it had all of the sights and smells of a tavern. As Tay entered, he lowered the hood on his cloak and moved to pull off his gloves, looking around the common room for Athdara. When he didn't see her immediately, he went on the hunt.

The second and third rooms were smaller and contained just a few people drinking the night away, but no Athdara. As he doubled back to search other chambers, he caught sight of a man wiping down a table. He looked as if he might work there by the clothing he wore, so Tay approached him.

"You there," he said with quiet authority. "I'm looking for a woman."

The old man, with a hook nose and scabs on his lips, looked puzzled for a moment before shaking his head. "We don't have that kind of woman here, my lord."

Tay quickly realized what he meant. "Nay," he said. "Not that kind of woman. A traveler. Tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. Beautiful. Have you seen her?"

The man paused. "Here?"

"Here."

"Why are you looking for her?"

"That's my business. Have you seen her or not?"

The man looked at him. Then he cocked his head in an appraising manner. "I might."

Tay grunted with displeasure, knowing what the man was leading to. "You take your life in your hands with your foolish games, old man," he said as he dug into his coin purse. Pulling out a silver coin, he tossed it to the man, who caught it deftly. "Now, I will ask you one more time before I start tearing this place apart. Have you seen the woman I described?"

The old man dropped his rag on the table and crooked a finger. "Come with me, my lord."

Tay followed him through two low-ceilinged chambers and into a third one, where the man abruptly stopped and pointed.

"This one?" he asked.

It was a tiny chamber, windowless, and Tay stuck his head in through the doorway, coming face to face with Athdara as she was mid-plucking the feathers from a chicken. She froze, looking at him with big eyes, as the old man snorted.

"She came here looking for a place to stay for the night," he said. "She has no money, so she's working for her bed. If she doesn't finish what she's doing, she'll get no supper and no bed."

Tay lashed out his massive hand and grabbed the old man by the neck, slamming him against the wall. It was a startling, brutal gesture implying great danger for the old man.

And Tay meant it that way.

"You'll not see morning if you do not feed her and give her the finest bedchamber in this establishment," he growled. "I will burn it over your head if I am not completely satisfied that you have done your very best to tend to her every need. Do you understand me?"

The old man, who had been so confident and even arrogant throughout the entire exchange, nodded quickly. "Aye, my lord," he said, terrified. "I meant no disrespect, but everyone must pay for their food and shelter here. I don't give it away."

Tay glared at the old man a few moments longer to ensure his point was made before he released him and stood back. "I have already paid you with the coin I just gave you," he said. "I want a room for me and a room for the lady. And all of the food you can bring. Do it now."

The old man fled. Tay's focus turned to Athdara, who was still sitting there in mid-pluck. Truthfully, he was riveted to her. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't quite find the words. Everything was a jumble.

He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you run?" he finally asked. "I sent Bowen to bring you back, but he said you would not come. Why not?"

Nervously, and clearly in shock at his appearance, Athdara tore her eyes away from him and returned to the chicken in her hand. "I am certain you already know the answer to that question," she said, her voice trembling as she ripped at the feathers. "I am sorry you felt that you had to follow me. That was not my intent."

"I know it wasn't," he said, stepping into the chamber. "Put the chicken down. I want to talk to you."

She wouldn't put it down. She kept stripping the feathers off it in harsh, jerky movements.

"There is no need, my lord," she said. "I know what you are going to say. What I did to you was terrible. It was the most terrible thing I've ever done to anyone, but I knew that if I didn't, the next strike you delivered would have knocked me senseless. The exercise was about survival, was it not?"

"It was about endurance."

"With me, it was survival," she said, eyes flashing angrily as she looked at him. "You do not want me there. I understand that. And I am certain you planned to cause me to fail the exercise, which would have put me out of Blackchurch. Well, I was not going to wait for that. I went out on my own terms, Munro. But I am very sorry I hit you so hard."

He sighed, long and heavy. " Stop plucking," he said, tearing the chicken from her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Come with me, you mouthy wench. And stop talking. I will do the talking from now on."

But Athdara resisted. As Tay had discovered, she was strong for a woman. She pulled away from him so hard that she stumbled back into the wall and hit her head. He put his hands on his hips in frustration as she sank back against the wall in a defensive stance, as if afraid he was going to grab her again.

"Nay," she said firmly. "I'll not go with you. I think everything has already been said between us. I am sorry you came all the way here to find me, I truly am, but I told your man I would not return. You should have listened."

Tay's jaw twitched faintly. "So you are giving up," he said, disgust in his tone. "You worked hard for four weeks only to give up on the first day you were a recruit. And I still do not know why."

"I told you why," she said with force. "You were going to render me unconscious so I could not continue my training. I could see it in your eyes."

He lifted his dark eyebrows. "Do you know what you saw in my eyes?" he said. "Surprise. Astonishment. Regret. Yes, regret. Because I could not treat you any differently than any other recruit. I had been warned about you."

She frowned. "Warned about me?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Because you have some connection to Lord Exmoor," he said. "Do not deny it, for I know it is true. I was told not to be too harsh with you because it would displease Exmoor, yet you have run off, and he is going to think it is my fault. Did that ever occur to you? You are making me look bad, lady, and I do not take kindly to that."

It wasn't the answer Athdara had been expecting. Honestly, she didn't know what she had expected. He should have been angry that she had hurt him, but that wasn't the case. It was his position at Blackchurch that he was in fear of, and although it made perfect sense, somehow, there was some disappointment, too.

Perhaps a small part of her hoped he might have come for her because he wanted to.

"I will send him a missive and tell him that you had nothing to do with it," she said after a moment. "It was my fault. All of it."

He shook his head. "You will have to tell him in person," he said. "A missive can be lost or forged. Only words from your own lips would suffice."

She conceded the point. "Then I will return," she said. "But not tonight. Perhaps not even tomorrow. I have money to earn, and the tavern keep has offered me a job in the kitchens."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "You?" he said. "Working in a lodge like this? That's madness."

"Why?"

He gestured at her. "Because you are too fine for that," he said. "You are a Blackchurch recruit. Do you have any idea how many people want what you are so callously throwing away?"

Athdara was weary, emotionally and physically. His words were starting to break her down, to make her doubt her actions. But she wasn't going to let him manipulate her. Perhaps if he understood her predicament, he might leave her in peace.

"When we spoke last night, we spoke of destiny," she said quietly. "Do you recall?"

"Of course I do."

"I told you that I did not know what my destiny was, but I was going to find it."

"I heard you," he said. Then he stepped into the room and sat at the table, where dead chickens lay on the surface and feathers were everywhere. He looked at her seriously. "Tell me why you think you will find your destiny at Blackchurch."

Heavily, she sat opposite him, moving a chicken aside as she thought on her answer. "It is not there," she finally said. "I thought it might be, but it is not."

"Why? Because you hit me in the bollocks?" he said. "Athdara, you ran at the very first test. If you were any other recruit, I would let you go and be glad to be rid of you, but you didn't run because you were afraid, did you?"

"Nay. I told you why."

"You told me that I was going to knock you senseless, and you did not wish to quit Blackchurch on those terms."

"It is true."

"I don't think it is. Tell me why you ran, and do not lie to me. I do not take kindly to lies."

Her eyes flicked up to him, sharply, the dark orbs glittering dangerously. "I am not a liar."

"You are doing it now by not telling me why you fled."

"I told you the truth."

She was being evasive and stubborn, and that only served to irritate him. He'd done as much pushing as he was going to, and if she wasn't willing to give, then neither was he.

Abruptly, he stood up.

"Then you are not only a liar, you are a coward," he said, growing hot. "I have tried to be kind. I have tried to show understanding. Yet you continue to lie to my face, and you continue to run. If that is truly your character, then Blackchurch is better off without you. I thought you had something different, something strong. I was wrong. I will not trouble you any longer."

With that, he stormed out of the chamber, leaving Athdara sitting there, feeling scolded and ashamed. Nothing he said was untrue, for the most part. She'd been so concerned what he thought about her that she had created misery of her own making. She really was a liar and a coward.

Shoving the chickens aside, she bolted up from the table and went in pursuit.

Athdara didn't catch up to Tay until they were both out of the lodge and he was heading for the livery. Rather than run up behind him and possibly startle him into drawing his weapon, she stood by the rear door of the establishment and called to him.

"My father was the Duke of Toxandria, a duchy my family has held for over eight hundred years," she shouted over the cold night air. "I am his only daughter, Athdara de Ghent, Lady of Scheve, Mistress of Ghent, and Daughter of the Two Rivers. Two years ago, my father's brother summoned a secret army and overran my father's castle. My father and elder brother were killed. I escaped with my younger brother, the heir to Toxandria, and I had to fight all the way to England because my uncle had bounty hunters following us. They are still following us, I believe. You are, therefore, wrong on both accounts—I am not a liar, nor am I weak, so do not return to Blackchurch and tell everyone I was a coward. I am the most un-cowardly woman you will ever meet. But I am a survivor, and I am not ashamed of that."

Tay was almost to the livery door, but he came to a halt. He stood there, his back turned to her, listening to her tell him who she really was, and he had to admit that he wasn't surprised. The moment he saw her, he'd known that she was fine and noble. Eight hundred years of breeding had perfected an example of womanhood.

By the time she finished, he had turned around and was looking at her. He could see her breath hanging in the air as it came in steady pants. She was anxious; he could see it. Finally, a barrier had been broken and the truth was coming out. He shouldn't have cared, but he did. God help him, he did. He didn't know why this woman interested him so, but she was becoming like the lure of a siren. He couldn't resist.

Slowly, he closed the gap between them.

"Then why did you run from Blackchurch?" he asked quietly.

Her lower lip began to tremble. "I ran… I ran because I had hurt you, and I couldn't stand what I had done," she whispered. "I could not look in your face and see what anguish I had caused you. I did it to survive, that is true, but once I had done it, I couldn't stomach it. It was enough to cause me to run."

That made a hell of a lot of sense to him. Clearly, she was a woman of deep feeling, and, truth be told, he was touched. Very touched. She was strong, and she was a fighter, but she still possessed a tender heart. The killer instinct in her hadn't hardened it yet.

With a heavy sigh, he went to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her back inside.

This time, she didn't resist him. She simply let him pull her along until they ended up back in that chamber with the chickens. He set her down in a chair while he resumed his seat on the opposite side of the table. Tay found himself looking at her lowered head.

"You did not have to worry about hurting me," he said, his voice a gentle growl. "You did what you were told to do. There is no shame in that, Athdara."

She took a deep, pensive breath. "You tried to take me out by the knees."

"I did."

She looked up at him, and he could see the thoughts rolling through her head. Those glittering brown eyes conveyed much before the words ever came.

"Do you know why I came to Blackchurch?" she finally said, and watched him shake his head. "My father served with St. Denis de Bottreaux years ago when they were both in France, fighting against Henry of England. My father saved St. Denis' life in battle, and St. Denis never forgot. Through their friendship, my father learned of the Blackchurch Guild. He wanted to send my older brother there, but Milo would not leave Toxandria. My father hoped to send Niko, my younger brother, but when Breda Castle fell, I was the only one to escape with Niko. He is my father's legacy, and I will protect him to the death."

It wasn't an old story, but given that Athdara was involved, it was a serious one to him. A dukedom stolen, a dead family… it was not an uncommon tragedy. Tay understood politics and battles, and the reasons behind them, but the truth was that he was somewhat removed from all of that in the wilds of Exmoor. He didn't fight battles anymore, but he trained men to fight him. Warfare was no longer his world.

But it was Athdara's.

"Where is your younger brother?" he asked.

Athdara lifted her eyebrows, resigned. "He is living with a farmer's family outside of London," she said. "When I first came to England, it was on a cog that moored on the shores of the Thames. I went to St. Bartholomew, near Aldergate, and asked for help in hiding my brother. I told you that my uncle had bounty hunters following us, so it was essential to protect Niko. The priests arranged to place him with a farmer named Fann, who has many children, and I send them money when I can. Niko is living his life as a farmer's son, growing up surrounded by siblings and hard work, and that is the way it should be. Should my Uncle Attila catch wind of his survival, however, he would be in great danger."

"That is the man who sacked your home and killed your father?"

"Aye," she said. "Atilla de Ghent."

Tay nodded as the situation, and the players, became clear. "I understand," he said. "But it does not explain why you are at Blackchurch. Why have you come to train as an elite warrior?"

"Revenge," she said, fixing him in the eye. "I want to learn to fight properly. I want to learn how to command properly. I want to learn how to raise an army so I can regain what my uncle has stolen. Niko deserves his legacy, and my father and brother must be avenged."

"And you intend to do it all?"

"I do. God help me, I do."

Had he heard this from anyone else, he would have dismissed it as pure fantasy. But looking into Athdara's face, he believed every word. Now, he completely understood why she'd come to Blackchurch. He understood her motivation and her intentions, because he would have felt the same way if it was his family. But given how she'd run from hurting him, she wasn't going to get very far unless she was able to suppress her emotions.

Coming to know her as he was, he hated to see that.

In fact, he hated to hear about her motivation in general. Her determination was admirable, but he wondered if she really understood what this kind of venture meant. It meant blood and pain and sweat and death. He couldn't imagine this fine, elegant creature heading down that path, but she seemed determined. He knew he couldn't stop her. If he chased her away, she'd only find somewhere else to train with men perhaps not so scrupulous.

Nay, he didn't want her away from him at all. If she was going to do this, then he was going to help her.

"Then let me train you," he said quietly. "Come back with me and let me train you. If you truly have vengeance on your mind, you must learn to be more calculating and less emotional. Let me and my friends train you."

"Friends?"

"My fellow trainers at Blackchurch."

She was hesitant but clearly intrigued. "You will not try to fail me?"

"Of course I will," he said. "Athdara, life does not come with any guarantees. You must learn to handle failure as well as success, or you have no business being at Blackchurch or leading an army or anything else. I will not try to discourage you from what you feel you must do, because that is yours and yours alone, but if you are going to do it, you must learn how to do it. Do you understand me?"

Athdara nodded. "I do."

"That means no more running away."

"I will not, I swear it."

"You'd better," he said, eyeing her. "I will not waste my valuable time to train you if you are only going to quit."

"The only way I will quit is if I am dead."

He stared at her a moment. Then he broke out in a big grin. "That is something a knight would say."

"I do not want to be a knight. I simply want to learn to fight like one."

"Do you mind if we eat before we begin?"

He was trying to lighten the mood, which had become heady. She smiled weakly, and he laughed softly at her, watching her grin with embarrassment. He stood up and went to the door, bellowing for the food he'd requested earlier, and was rewarded when the old man with the hook nose appeared followed by two serving wenches. They were all carrying trays loaded with food and drink, running toward him as if their lives depended on it.

Tay stood back and enjoyed the show. They couldn't get the trays on the table fast enough. The old man grabbed the chickens he'd left for Athdara, hauling away the carcasses, as the serving women made sure the food was suitably presented. No one wanted trouble. They put out stew in a small iron cauldron, bread and butter, stewed vegetables, stewed fruit, and two pitchers of watered wine. The old man rushed the servants out of the chamber, leaving Athdara wide-eyed at all of the food.

Tay sat down and began pouring the wine. "Now," he said as he filled her cup, "we will eat, go to bed, and then return to Blackchurch at dawn. Since you will be training away from the bulk of the recruits, I will see about putting you in the village."

Athdara began spooning the stew into one of the wooden bowls they'd brought. It was thick, with barley and carrots and chicken meat.

"The village is where the trainers live," she said. "We've been told to stay away from it."

He nodded as he began to fill his own bowl. "The recruits are limited to the cloisters and their designated training fields," he said. "There is a hierarchy at Blackchurch, which I'm sure you have noticed."

She nodded as she shoveled the chicken stew into her mouth. "The men who handle the dregs speak of the trainers as if you are all gods," she said. "We are not really told much about you, so to your point of my not recognizing you when I saw you at The Black Cock, there is no way I could have. I had never heard of the Leviathan until this morning."

He was already halfway finished with his stew. "You will meet others," he said, mouth full. "Men who will help you learn what you need to learn, but I must ask… after we train you, what then?"

She looked up from her food. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is your plan?"

"I told you. To regain my father's duchy."

"But how ? How are you going to do it?"

She blinked, unsure of her answer at first because she understood what he meant. "I am hoping you will teach me how," she said. "I am hoping to learn how to create a strategy. I am hoping to learn how to raise an army."

Tay looked at her for a moment. The more she spoke, the more he realized how completely na?ve she was about something like this. Her heart was in the right place, and she clearly wanted to do something to regain her brother's duchy, but raising an army was his first clue that her expectations versus the reality of the situation were far from each other. She simply didn't have the experience or know-how to realize the scope of what she was undertaking.

"An army takes money," he said. "Do you have any?"

"Nay."

"Then how do you plan to raise an army?"

"With the promise of money if they help me."

"But where are you going to get the money?"

"When we depose my uncle, I will get the money from Toxandria's treasury," she said as if that would be no great feat. "Toxandria is very rich. I will promise to pay the men once we take back Breda Castle."

He tore off a piece of bread and began to mop up his stew. "And if you do not?"

"But we must. How else am I to pay them?"

He could see that she didn't understand. "Are you listening to yourself?" he said in an effort to force her to focus. "Gaining back Breda Castle is not promised, my lady. If you raise an army and swear that you will pay them upon capturing the castle, and then you fail in your objective, they are going to want to be paid, because men you raise for your army, men that expect payment, are mercenaries. They are only in it for the money and not because they have sworn fealty to you. Not because they love you. Do you understand that?"

Athdara nodded. "I do."

"Are you certain? Because I am not entirely sure you do."

She had been buttering her bread, but her movements slowed. "I understand that they will want money," she said. "If they fight hard enough, they shall have it."

He sighed sharply. "Athdara, you are not understanding the situation for what it is," he said with strained patience. "I can train you to endure a physical battle. Other trainers can teach you how to fight in different ways, upon land or sea, with or without weapons. Still others can teach you about military tactics and how to command an army. But you must understand that what you wish to attempt is one of the most dangerous things an army can do, with no guarantee you will complete your objective, and the men you wish to hire are the brutal sort. If you do not pay them, they will kill you."

She was listening intently. "Then what would you suggest?"

He shrugged. "We can discuss that when we return to Blackchurch," he said. "But I want you to think about what it is you are planning to do and all of the implications. It will not be a simple thing."

Athdara lowered her gaze, returning to her buttered bread, but it was clear that she was pondering his words. Tay returned to his meal also, but he was watching her. He knew that his truth had been a little too frank, but that couldn't be helped. She had to know what she was getting herself into, and it had to start now.

"I wish you could have known my father," she finally said softly. "He was a good man, a fair man. He loved his family. He would be devastated to know what his brother did, how Niko and I are the only survivors. He would be so worried for us."

Tay bit into his bread before replying. "He raised a very strong daughter," he said, chewing. "Did you have any training before the fall of your father's duchy?"

"A little," she said. "All children of the dukes of Toxandria are trained in the use of swords and other weapons, but the males more than the females."

"When you were not training, what did you do with your time?"

She looked at him, a dull gleam in her eye. "You will laugh at me."

"I swear that I will not."

"I danced," she said. "I was instructed in dance from a very early age. I find great peace and freedom in dance. When my father had great feasts, I would instruct the diners on how to do certain dances. I even created my own dances that would be the talk of the town. Everyone in my father's dukedom would summon me for their great feasts, to teach dancing. I was very good at it."

He stopped chewing and stared at her. Then a smile creased his lips. "I should have known," he said. "As beautiful and elegant as you are, there is a grace to you that is not often found in a woman. And you are very strong. I found that out the hard way."

He waggled his eyebrows comically, and Athdara grinned, her cheeks flushing. "I would dance for many hours each day," she said. "It is good training. It makes your muscles strong."

"But you said that you were also trained with weapons," he said. "Those will make you strong as well."

She nodded. "That is why I know I can do well at Blackchurch," she said. "If you teach me, I can learn."

His eyes glimmered with warmth. "Of that, I have no doubt," he said. "But we will not teach you only warfare. Most of the battle is fought in the mind. That is something you must learn more than anything else."

"I will, I swear it."

He nodded, not referring back to the earlier part of their conversation where she seemed oblivious to the true danger of what she wanted to accomplish. There was no use bringing that up again until she entered into her training. Whether or not she was able to learn the mental as well as the physical aspects would be decided then.

But the discussion wasn't over, not in the least.

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, and by the time they were finished, they were so exhausted and full of food that a soft bed was the next logical step. The old man with the hook nose was sent for, and he showed them to the only rooms he had, connecting chambers, both of them with three beds each.

Athdara took the smaller room, shutting the door before Tay could say a word, which left him with the larger chamber. Too tired to dwell on their conversation, or even the situation he was getting himself into when it came to training her, he threw himself down on the nearest bed and immediately passed into a deep, dreamless slumber.

It had been a long day…

For them both.