23. TWENTY THREE

twenty-three

KITTEN

“Given the most recent rebel attacks, we are upping our training. We will have mandatory training for all outpost positions,” Cole calls out in the center of the sparring ring. Although, Marge is the exception in the entire squad. She mentioned she had more than enough experience and didn’t need extra training.

My theory is she didn’t want to admit she’s too old. And Cole knew better than to argue with her.

Cole is the first to spar and fights against Carlisle in hand-to-hand combat. Cole’s moves are short and jerky, holding back his full power. Carlisle is drenched in sweat as he defends, blocks, and dodges again and again. Unlike the duels with Darian I’ve witnessed, this fight is much more forgiving. Cole swings Carlisle to the ground and pins him until he taps out.

Cole scans the crowd. “Who’s next?”

I step forward. “Me.”

“I’ll take her!” Archie interjects enthusiastically before anyone else can respond.

Archie and I stand in the center of the clearing and face each other, the sun glaring against the edge of my sword as I raise it. Archie unsheathes his own sword, the metal ringing as it’s pulled free from its scabbard. Nervousness bubbles inside of me, mixed with relief that out of everyone I’m sparring with, it’s him.

Archie waits for me to make the first move. I jab forward, swiping my blade up and to the right. He twists his sword down to mine. Blocked. The metal rings out around us, and a vibration buzzes in my arm. I swing again—blocked. Stepping back from him, I wait for his attack, but it never comes. He steps forward like he’s going to but doesn’t strike.

“Archie, what are you doing?” I whisper as I swipe my blade sideways at him. “Fight. Me.”

He continues to deflect. I leave long pauses between, waiting for him to advance. While I secretly hoped he would take it easy on me, I wasn’t wanting this easy.

“Rebels won’t give a shit if she’s untrained,” Darian calls out from the sidelines.

And for once, I actually agree with him. Cole shoots a glare in Darian’s direction to silence him and then is back to watching us.

“Come on Archie…I promise. It’s okay,” I mutter as I lunge and cut again.

He’s still not attacking me, his focus entirely on defending. His boot catches an invisible lift in the ground. Falling to his knees, his sword falls far away from his grasp. A little too far.

Did he just fake tripping and throw his sword?

Archie holds his arms above his head. “I surrender!”

I roll my eyes, an exasperated sigh slipping from my lips as I offer to help him up. He graciously takes my outstretched hand and leaps to his feet.

I shift my gaze to Cole, hoping he might entertain me. “Cole, will you—”

“I challenge.” Darian steps forward into the center, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Cole snaps his head into his direction. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, it won’t hurt,” Darian taunts.

Cole glares at the defiance in Darian’s voice and bites back, “It might for you.”

Darian sneers. “She has the prowess of a kitten. But thank you for your concern.”

“You know it wasn’t her I was referring to,” Cole growls.

“It’s fine,” I assure Cole with a small nod. Part of me is adamant not to lure that simmering wrath of a man I witnessed the night I was captured. Besides, this may be my opportunity to prove myself. I step closer to face Darian, locking my stance to keep my legs from wobbling.

“I can’t back down. Not on the first day.”

“You’ve got this,” Daeja whispers in my head.

The memory of Darian ruthlessly hacking against Archie replays in my mind. The way Darian so effortlessly beheaded three men. How he’s rumored to be the best swordsman in the kingdom and trained by Jurrock himself.

Kitten my ass.

A kitten wouldn’t dare fight a damn wolf.

Darian lowers his chin with a devilish grin and stretches out an open hand, bending his fingers toward him in an unspoken challenge.

I charge immediately, hoping my lack of hesitancy catches him off-guard. Swinging my sword in a hard left, he catches my strike so easily with his own blade, his eyes dance. Sweeping his sword locked with mine up and around, he thrusts me backward. I take a few steps back, narrowing my eyes, and spring forward. I swipe and swing, thrust and cut, each move deflected effortlessly by him. He hasn’t even taken a single swing at me, a stupid snide grin settles on his lips. My blood boils in my veins as he begins to laugh at each of my strikes.

He’s fucking toying with me.

At least Archie had the decency of not mocking my inexperience.

Channeling my irritation into my attacks, I throw extra force behind each swing.

He dodges again, as if he could do it in his sleep. “You’re going to have to do much better than that, kitten .”

The name unlocks a deep rooted anger within me. How fucking dare he think he can call me such a thing. Impulsively, I lash out with my full strength, sweat gathering on my brow.

With a simple twist of his wrist, he disarms me and grabs my other forearm in one move. He whips me around, twirling me away from him, and pinning my back into his hard chest. The cold metal of his sword kisses the delicate skin on my neck, near the cut from the last time I was held hostage.

Cole shifts from the edge of the ring, fists clenched and ready to pounce. “Darian, if you don’t let her go in five seconds…”

“Control your emotions, or they’ll control you. We have no room for deadly mistakes,” Darian hisses in my ear.

I writhe as his breath caresses the sensitive part between my neck and ear. Every attempt to free myself is unsuccessful, and the memory of him adamant on killing Archie in their last sparring practice resurfaces in my mind. But he doesn’t deal the final, killing blow.

“What? You aren’t going to kill the weakest link now? How very anticlimactic of you,” I hiss at Darian, struggling in his grasp.

Darian chuckles behind me, his laugh radiating in my chest. He leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. It takes everything in me to hold down a shiver. We are far, far too close for comfort now.

His voice dips to something only the two of us can discern. “If you’re looking for a climax, kitten, all you have to do is ask.”

I drop my elbow into his crotch. His sword drops from my throat and clatters to the ground, his startled gasp whispers against my ear. Pushing out of Darian’s grasp, I turn to face him. He folds over, his face lowered as he braces his palms on his knees.

Cole springs to my side and muffles a laugh behind tight lips. I don’t think anyone else heard Darian—just me. Because if Cole heard the innuendo, he might kill Darian himself.

“I’ll take that as a win,” I declare, strutting off the center of the sparring ring with Cole.

Archie loops an arm around my neck, chuckling and raises a hand to high-five me. “Remind me to never call you kitten! That’s two wins for you today. Maybe you should start training me?”

I roll my eyes and playfully slap his arm. Darian sucks in a loud inhale from where he is still hunched over in the sparring circle and stands. His fuming green eyes raze me before he slips off back to camp.

Good riddance.

After lunch with Archie, I head to Cole’s room and knock on his door before inching it open. Cole sits at his desk, his angled chin perched on his fist as he stares down at the papers in front of him. He furiously scans the pages with lowered eyebrows.

I slip into his room, closing the door behind me, and he finally looks over to me.

A smile twitches up at the corner of Cole’s mouth. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Hey.” I float across the room to him, circling my arms around his neck and looking down over his shoulder at his desk, wondering what has him so focused.

“That was pretty impressive, you fighting Darian,” he praises.

“Oh, but not Archie?”

He laughs, smiling up at me. “Of course Archie, too. Admittedly, he took it a little too easy on you.”

“I think we all knew that.”

“What did Darian say to you?” he asks.

I bite my tongue, trying to think of what to say. I’d rather not upset Cole about the things Darian said. Cole has enough on his plate already. That, and I’m perfectly capable of handling Darian on my own. “Just that…you’re a protective big brother.”

He watches me carefully. “If he keeps harassing you, let me know. I’ll deal with him. But keep your distance from him—he’s dangerous.”

I shift my focus from Cole down to the papers scattered on his desk. “What are you up to?”

He sighs and lifts a page up for me to see. “Inventory counts. I have to sign them and send them back to the General. They’ve been really adamant on ensuring nothing goes unaccounted for. If the counts are off, they’ll have my head.”

“They’d execute you just because you might have misplaced some bandages?”

“No...I would likely have a warning or two before any disciplinary action. But it’s just one of those nuances of being in my position. They’re really serious about keeping track.” He sets down the paper and grabs a new one. “I also have to send a report of events from the last month. I’ve been hesitant to mention my sister joined the squad. Let alone I didn’t ask for permission before I granted you a position. I’m worried they might audit me under such circumstances.”

We both stare at his letter for a few still moments.

“Then tell them,” I murmur.

He turns in his chair to regard me. Our faces dangerously close. So much so, his breath tickles my cheek. It’s a bad move since we aren’t supposed to be kissing. My gaze instinctively darts down to his lips, and I’m oddly aware of his hitched breath.

His gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes and mouth. “It makes me….nervous.”

I’m not quite sure if we are still talking about the same thing. But I play the game. “It won’t matter, if we’re already in the Dragon Lands, right?”

Cole blows out a breath, averting his attention to the letters. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking, and the best chance at getting through undetected is to wait for a moonless night. No moon, no light. Daeja’s scales are so dark, it would be easier to hide her in the shadows. But the next moonless night isn’t for a few more weeks.”

He taps against the letter he’s scrawled several sentences onto. “I’m hoping the General will approve my request for a map of the northern outposts and borders. Perhaps even detailing Dragon’s Back Ridge. It’ll likely take a few weeks for us to receive it.”

“You don’t think we could make it without the map, just take a straight shot north?” I ask.

“No because I’m not familiar with where the rebel camps are. I’ve heard rumors of them sprinkled throughout Dragon’s Back Ridge to protect their borders, but I’m not certain. Running into a rebel’s outpost could be catastrophic. Especially given you’d be outnumbered. Do you think you’d be able to wait here a few weeks until we have the map?”

My stomach churns. I’m uncertain if it’s the thought of staying here that long or the dangerous path to get to the Dragon Lands. But I nod my head anyway. “I...I think so.”

“The start of Dragon’s Back Ridge is about a few days’ trek from here. Maybe more if we have to move slowly. I’ll have a better idea once I have the map.”

I lean in and press my lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

His jaws tightens into a smile, and I pull back to look him in the eyes. Our noses brush, and his eyes heat. This close up, my heartbeat must sound like a war drum to him. I find myself completely entranced by the smoldering amber of his eyes. The way I gravitate toward the curve of his soft lips–

“Three weeks,” he interrupts my observations, ripping his gaze away from mine.

It takes me a few seconds to shake myself out of my stupor. “What…about Marge?”

“What about her?”

“She said she wouldn’t turn us in. She wants to go to the Dragon Lands…”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you want her to come with us?”

“I...” Don’t know.

My mother’s words ring in my head. Trust no one but Cole. Did that also apply to Marge?

But the more I think of my mother and all the things she’s ever told me, the more my mind whirls. At the end of the day, could I even trust her and her sanity? I wasn’t even sure if I could trust the words of my own father, someone I had never met before. Someone who had been a rebel, for that matter. But something lingered within my gut, just a touch out of my grasp for me to fully understand it.

My voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about the journal, and...what if we’re on the wrong side?”

“Of course we aren’t on the wrong side. The rebels have been slaughtering towns of innocent people—”

“But what if it wasn’t the rebels? What if it was someone else?” I shift uncomfortably at the possibility.

He levels a look at me. “And who else would it possibly be?”

“I…don’t know.” I avert my eyes down to my fidgety hands. “But my father’s journal mentioned the King executed all of the dragons when he came into rule.”

“Well, dragons can be dangerous. He was only doing it to protect his people.”

I throw a narrowed glare at him in warning. Part of me instinctively defensive of Daeja and her kind. “But that’s not just it. There was a mention of dragon riders. And the execution of them, too.”

“Rebels,” Cole answers.

I shake my head in frustration. “What do you know of Queen Elara?”

“Who?”

“Exactly. The journal spoke of a Queen Elara who ruled before King Aaric did.”

“I know the King had a wife, but she died—”

“She wasn’t his wife. Queen Elara was his sister . And King Aaric killed her.”

Cole freezes, his face blanching.

I meet his wide-eyed gaze, begging for him to consider what I thought could be the truth. “My father said he was spying on the King and saw multiple dragon eggs. That’s how I found Daeja’s egg—buried in his grave.”

Cole blinks rapidly as he digests the information, his words slow. “Perhaps…he had…to kill…”

But even he can’t seem to find a reason why. He wouldn’t ever be able to kill one of his own sisters, and the longer he sits with the information, the more his expression knits in conflict.

His final question lingers in my mind for the rest of the day. “But can you really trust your father’s journal?”

After we ate dinner, most of the squad split off from the tables to sit around a campfire and drink. A common occurrence—I’ve come to notice—in the squad’s routine. But the thought of having to get close to the flames is enough for me to refuse the invitations.

“You don’t drink?” Archie asks innocently and covers quickly with, “It’s okay if you don’t! I don’t really, either.”

“I do. I just…would prefer not to drink—” I pause, trying to find the right excuse, my attention settling on where the soldiers pile branches to burn. “There.”

He looks over his shoulder, following my gaze. “There?”

Darian takes a seat at the edge of the campfire, watching the rest of the soldiers setting up, his eyes picking at me from across the distance. I turn away and back to Archie with a nod.

“We could go somewhere else if you wanted?” Archie offers.

“That would be weird, don’t you think? If we showed up for the liquor and left?”

He shrugs. “I think that’s what most of them do, anyway.”

An idea sparks me. “I know where we can get our own bottle.”

Grabbing Archie’s elbow, I pull him to the healer’s quadrant as the last bits of sunlight fades, darkness settling around the camp. Archie covers his mouth with a hand, unsuccessfully masking his snickering until I pinch him quiet.

“You’ll get us caught.” I giggle.

Marge isn’t present when we slip into the healer’s quadrant and inch over to the storage. I peer through the cabinets, searching. Plucking a glass bottle tucked back onto a shelf, we tip-toe back out into camp and to my room. I close my door, and a bubble of laughter erupts from both of us.

Archie plops down into the chair near my desk, and I sit on the edge of my bed. I throw him the bottle, and he catches it with ease. Uncorking the bottle, he sniffs the liquid, and pauses with a grimace. After my encouraging nod, he tilts it back and takes a drink.

“People actually like the taste of this?” he scowls.

I laugh. “No, I don’t think so. But people don’t drink it for the taste.”

“Will I start to hallucinate? Because if I start to see my Great Aunt Becky, I’m never listening to you again.”

I tilt my head to the side. “What’s wrong with Great Aunt Becky?”

“She used to pinch my cheeks and pull my ears. I used to think it’s why my cheeks are always so red and why my ears stick out.”

“Your ears don’t stick out, Arch. Besides, your natural blush is kind of cute.”

He grins at me, takes another drink, and hands the bottle to me. He coughs and sputters, pounding a fist against his chest.

“But no, you won’t hallucinate. You’ll just feel a little…lighter?” I take a few swigs and swallow down the burn. “Out of everything, that’s what scares you the most? Your Great Aunt Becky?”

“No…there are other things. Like owls,” he whispers.

“Owls?”

“Yeah, they’re creepy. Have you ever seen one twist its head?” He shivers at the thought. “And whistling at night.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know it seems so silly…but it’s a bad omen.”

“If you think that’s silly, fire scares me.”

“Fire?” he repeats.

“Yeah…” I mutter, glancing back down at the bottle in my hands, taking another gulp.

He shrugs the longer he sits with my answer. “That’s pretty logical, though. Fire can be scary.”

“And myself.” My voice drops to a whisper, so low I’m wondering if he heard me.

He blinks, raising his eyebrows. “You know…don’t take this personally. But...you’re really not all that intimidating.”

I chuckle. “Ahh, so now you tell me the truth? I must have forgotten to mention they say alcohol unleashes what you’ve always wanted to say.”

Maybe I should slow down. Before I say too much.

But the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “No. I’m scared I’ll make the wrong decisions. That I’m not capable. That no matter what I do, even if I’m trying to make the right choice, it’ll still destroy the people I love. And that scares me.”

“Trying to do the right thing is scary,” Archie agrees softly.

Our eyes connect, solemn and somber. It’s unsettling to witness him with such a mellow expression, as if he’s containing a silent, hidden storm waiting to break a sunny day. And it’s the first time I’ve noticed how much his smile softens his face. Without it, and his dimpled cheeks when he grins, his angles are sharp. If he didn’t have his infectious cheery optimism I'd come to know, I would never think he’s a soldier.

A sad tension lingers between us, hanging like an invisible fog.

“More?” I lift the bottle to him, trying to break through the silence and heaviness of the moment.

He shakes me off. “If I have any more, I might throw up.”

I laugh and stand as I cork the bottle shut. My feet move sluggishly beneath me as I walk over to the desk to set the bottle down.

Archie’s face pales. He jolts to his feet and covers his mouth with his hand. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

He wobbles, and I slingshot forward, steadying him before he falls. We both giggle as we lock eyes and sway as if there’s a hidden wind in the room pushing into us.

I try to settle him. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get some fresh air. That always seems to help.”

We slip out of my room and off into the night, a stumbling mess of heavy feet and hushed giggles until we get to the outer wall of the outpost. My arm linked into his, and both of us taking turns to brace the other. I don’t pull my foot quite high enough to clear a rock and trip.

Archie is pulled down with me, and we hit the ground with a thud. Another laugh bursts from our lungs. I push myself up to my hands and knees as my gaze scans the forest ahead.

“Dae...ja?”

“Yessss?” Her voices hisses, as if deep underwater. “ Why do you ssssound ssso...different?”

“Think there’s any dragons out here?” Archie asks from beside me.

I glance sideways at him, rising up to my feet and dusting my pants off. “We probably scared them off by now.”

“Stay where you are,” I warn Daeja.

“Look,” Archie says, still lying on the ground. He shifted to laying on his back, his hand outstretched and pointing to the sky.

I follow the direction of his finger toward the star-studded sky stretching out above us. “Have you…never seen the stars before?”

“No, it’s just…this far north. At this elevation. They’re so clear here.”

I lie down next to him, shifting close to him for body warmth. Leaning my head against his shoulder, we stare at the stars in silence.

“That looks like a soup ladle,” he says, pointing at a collection of stars. His arm sways as he struggles to keep still. “A... spinning ...soup ladle.”

“Maybe that’s just the hunger talking,” I whisper.

He laughs. “You’re probably right.”

I shift my attention back in the direction of the forest. “We should get back. Before something hungry this way comes and thinks we look like a soup ladle.”

“Is that supposed to be scary? Because it’s not.” He flashes me a toothy smile. The kind of smile that warms his whole face, the crinkles near his eyes deepening.

I giggle. “I might be a little drunk. So I’m not sure how much sense I’m making.”

We both help each other up. Stumbling back to the camp, we say good night with a hug, and part our separate ways. I watch him go with a drunken smile.

He might be my first friend here.