37. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

I would fight. I would lose, but I would fight. Calyr and Vyran stop me. They remind me that it is not my life we worry over. I choose to protect.

~Sidon the Strong, A History of Magic and Dragons

I've officially graduated from sticks. The two daggers I hold in my hand are stupid, stupid things. I hate them. My fingers hate them especially.

Cole's wearing his armor just like he did while we were walking here, and I'm wearing a nicer, but still simple, tunic and pair of pants. It almost feels like we're back fighting in clearings except that Cole isn't taking it nearly as easy on me.

"You have to actively block, Maeve." Cole's words are like salt on a wound. I do not want to actively block anything, much less the enormous piece of metal he's wielding like a sword. "If you let your daggers just sit in the air, nearly anyone will break through your block."

My fingers are black and purple from the thousand blows I've taken to them. Yes, they will heal in the next hour. Even the broken bones. Cole brought some of the medicine we used on his back to the training room in case anything serious happened, but we're using blunted steel, so no one will be dying anytime soon.

"Crawl in a hole and die," I growl.

Cole's darkened steel longsword, a blunted training version of the one he carries at his hip, comes down like a boulder, and I try to stop it with the blunted dagger by holding it in the sword's path. Just like he'd said, the sword breaks my guard and smashes into my shoulder.

A scream rips from my throat, and I rush Cole, daggers out and ready to block his strikes. His sword sweeps in wide arcs, in what should be easily blockable, projected movements. But they hit my daggers and slide right past them, each of them scoring an incredibly painful hit on my body.

"Lysara take you, you son of a whore," I scream when the dark steel of his blade hits my ribs and I hear a crack. He's moving backward, and I'm running toward him, but I never get to him. I should be faster. He shouldn't be able to walk backward faster than I can run forward.

Yet, he maintains that perfect distance to continue to batter my body with the tip of his longsword while I never get a chance to even swing at him.

I stop, standing just out of his reach. Every breath hurts from what I can only assume is a cracked rib. My fingers are swollen and throbbing. Nearly all of my joints ache where he's hit them.

I throw the daggers to the sand and stomp away from him to a weapon rack. "You can keep those pieces of trash. You may think that's the optimal choice for someone small like me, but you're wrong. I'm going to die a thousand times before I ever even get to swing them. This is my weapon." I pick up the long piece of wood with a metal tip, blunted just like the sword Cole is using.

It's not my spear, but it's close enough. My hands know where to go. All the anger inside me turns into calm readiness. The pain doesn't go away, but my body doesn't care as much. It's like coming home.

Now I can fight. I stomp back onto the sands and finally notice that Cole's grinning at me.

"You think you'll do better with a spear than two daggers? You still have to close on me to hit me."

I shrug. "Let's see. It's not like another broken bone matters at this point."

My thumb moves to the spot that would have a glyph on my own spear. My feet spread into a fighting stance, my boots digging into the sand just enough to push off when I need to. I know Cole is going to attack me. He's going to want to show me I'm wrong. I've sparred with him too many times to count. I've begun to learn who he is and how he moves. How his mind works.

And predators attack. That's nothing new. My left hand prepares to turn the spear, to glide over the sword when Cole tries to block my stab.

Cole moves like nothing's changed, his feet pushing him forward instead of backward, but they move in that steady rhythm that I've come to realize is his battle pacing. He moves to a drumbeat inside him, just like I do. Just like everything does.

His is just different from mine. Faster. A little more steady than my own chaotic one.

His sword comes down in a simple chop designed to cut me from shoulder to hip, and if I'd stayed still, he would have done just that. It would have broken through my dagger block as it had done more times than I can count.

I don't wait for it, taking a half step back and letting the tip pass so close to me I can feel the breeze. Then I lunge, my spear lashing out like lightning.

He expected this, and his hilt comes up to block, the steel hand guard meant to catch the tip and push it off its trajectory. My left hand twists as soon as the pieces of metal make contact, and the spear changes angles ever so slightly. Just enough that when he pushes the tip, he drives it into his chest right above his heart rather than into the air above his shoulder.

The tip connects, and his eyes go wide, but I know it's not a killing blow. Even if the tip were sharpened, Cole would still be fighting like a boar, and I don't expect him to stop just because I managed to hit him a single time. Battles are won when one person dies. Not when one person gets hurt. Thankfully.

Instinctively, I yank the spear back since it'd have been embedded in Cole's shoulder, probably piercing his shoulder joint, and it would have been hard to get loose. The movement throws me off balance since it wasn't actually embedded in him, and Cole is moving already, his left arm hanging at his side, pretending to be useless.

I feint a thrust at the left side of his abdomen, knowing he'll try to knock the spear tip out of the way with his blade, and when the blade connects with the metal tip, it pushes the spear out wide.

I was ready for that motion too, and my entire body spins with the momentum, making a complete circle and transferring that power to my next strike. The tip is on a path to slice at his bicep, which is barely in range. Cole has to stop to parry it.

He's having to work at least a little. I've never seen anyone hit him. Not me or Darian or Lee. Everyone has just… lost. When Cole Cyrus attacks you, you lose. That's the rule.

But I'm not losing.

He stops the spear swing, and I'm already dancing backward, preparing myself for another thrust, and this time he rushes me. Sword held in a center line between the two of us, he slams the flat of his blade against my spear tip, and immediately tries to close the distance between us, to make my spear useless.

If I'd had a side sword, this would be the time to drop the spear and focus on swordplay, but I don't, and I don't particularly want to have one. Luckily, I've missed thrusts in my life and had to keep fighting. Against wolves and boar, and they're far faster and far meaner than Cole is.

The thing about a longsword versus a spear is that they're both terrible up close. Cole doesn't try to swing at me. He doesn't have the angles to hit me. He's going to turn this into a wrestling match, something that there's no chance for me to win.

And that's not going to happen.

I leap backward, and the spear moves in the opposite direction. It flies directly toward Cole, who had thought he had gotten past my defenses.

Except he blocks the thrust as easily as he had when I'd been using daggers. I hit the ground and throw my feet over my head, rolling backward. By the time I stand up, Cole's longsword is at my throat, his left hand still hanging limply at his side.

"Never do that. Ending up on your back even for a second is a death sentence." He says it without even panting. I'm breathing hard, each strike having been my full force. He pulls his sword away from my neck and walks back to where he started in the sand of the training pits. "The thrust was good, though. Better than anything else you've done. You may be right. What you did with that spear was a far cry better than what you've done with the daggers."

He raises his sword and grins at me. "Now, try it again."

My body feels like I was pretending to be a bridge, and people were driving wagons over me all day. I don't think I've ever had this many injuries. And they're not just minor cuts and bruises. I have several broken fingers, three cracked ribs, and my nose still won't stop bleeding from where Cole hit me in the face with his forehead.

But I'm smiling wider than I have in so long as I sit down across from him at the table in our chambers. "Three times," I say.

He chuckles and nods.

I hit Cole Cyrus three times today while sparring. I confirmed with him it's been a very, very long time since anyone has hit him. "You know," he says, "I'd like to get something made for you."

I cock an eyebrow at him. "What kind of something?"

His lip curls up in a grin. "Armor. With a good spear and good armor, you'd be mostly safe in one-on-one fights. I don't know of many people outside of the House of Steel that you'd be completely outmatched against."

Armor. The thought's more than a little surprising. The guards in the House of Flame don't wear it because it interferes with their magic. I glance down at my fingers and think about the shadows that I had learned how to wield in battle. The things I'd done with them against the Shade only a few days ago. I wouldn't be able to use those shadows if I was wearing armor.

"I'd rather not," I say and wish that I could tell him why. That I'm learning to use shadows like I should be able to. Like a weapon, and not just in that way that the Shade taught me. Revulsion is a difficult emotion to control, but using shadows like ropes is far more natural for me.

Cole frowns at me, those icy blue eyes staring hard. He's trying to understand why. He wants to put those pieces together to know why I'd turn down safety. Because he's right. I'd be a lot safer wearing armor than if I weren't.

Except that our real enemies are from the House of Steel, and armor would only hurt my ability to fight them.

"Why?" he finally asks.

I chew my lip, not wanting to admit anything. "What if I want to use my shadows?" I ask.

Cole's brows knit together in worry. "Have you been practicing with shadow magic in Draenyth? This is the last place…"

I stop him by shaking my head. "No." Do I tell him the truth? Do I tell him I can do so much more with shadows than I'd have expected? That I owe two debts because of it? I know how much anger the thought of my debts brings out in Cole, but I… I think I trust him. And part of that trust is giving away my secrets. I shouldn't expect him to tell me secrets if I'm hiding things from him. And for what? So that he doesn't growl? No, that's stupid.

"I trained on the way to Draenyth." He arches an eyebrow, and I take a deep breath. Yes, this is the time to tell him. To explain things. He's asked me so many times since we started this journey together to trust him. It's time.

I turn my hand over and show Cole the marks on my wrist. "I asked the Shade to teach me. He's the only member of the House of Shadows that I'll be able to convince to teach me. The first time I called for him, it was to save my cousin after my magic poisoned her and nearly killed her. The others are because I needed him to teach me to use my magic."

Cole reaches out and runs his finger over the little marks on my wrist, three tally marks left. Three debts. "And now you think you can use magic to defend yourself more than steel?"

The look on his face is one of pure calculations. No emotion. No care about me as a person. Just one warrior considering another warrior's decision.

After several moments, he says, "I don't trust your skills."

I start to argue, to try to convince him of my abilities, but he holds up his hand. "No, your words mean nothing. The only way I'll trust your skills is to see them. I know your skill with a spear. I know your weak points and your strengths. I don't need you to explain them."

He purses his lips and turns to look past me, as if he were looking at a scene from another place. Another time. "Before I trust your skill with magic, I need to see it, and you can't do it here. Here, in Draenyth, it's too dangerous."

"So, how can I prove my skills? The House of Steel is the most dangerous threat, isn't it? And you've already said that I won't be able to beat them with my skills and armor. So, is it really any kind of protection if they try to kill me? Wouldn't shadows be better?"

Cole shakes his head. "No. Because if you revealed you had shadow magic, then the House of Steel would have a reason to murder you. If the only purpose in hurting you is to indirectly hurt me, then they don't have the balls to do that. Yet. For now, armor is the right decision, I think. I'd like to see your skills, though. Maybe in a few days I can fly you out of the city and you can show me what you can do."

I bite my tongue to keep from arguing with Cole. Everything in me cringes at the idea of wearing steel. Even holding the steel-headed spear today made me a little flustered. It didn't move like mine. Something about it made me recoil.

"So am I supposed to put on armor just to go to the market? If I wanted to go back to those ecstatic springs, would I need to be covered in steel while I sat in the water?"

Cole's eyebrow arches as if my questions are ridiculous. "They're genuine questions," I say, getting more frustrated by the minute.

"You don't need to wear armor all the time," he says. "But there will be times. Soon. Where you may want it. I'll be with you nearly always now, and anytime I'm around, you don't need to wear it. But…"

I stare at him, our gazes locked. He's thinking of something in particular, but I don't know what it is. "Why do you want me to have armor, Cole?" I say as directly as I can.

"Because I don't want you to die if someone tries to assassinate you. Because it is likely that someone will very soon."

He says it so coldly. So calculated. "Who?" I ask, my voice growing just as cold.

"The House of Steel, most likely. War is coming, Maeve. Between the House of Flames and Steel, and I'm the only one that scares King Gethin. You're my betrothed, so if you died, I would be distraught. I'd get over it—unlike a true marriage—but as our wedding date has not been announced yet. They won't want to wait. They'll take my weakness as a chance to drive a dagger into my father's ribs. I don't want that to happen."

I squint at him, his logic making absolutely no sense at all. "So why would you want me in armor since there's no way I'll outfight them?"

He grins. "You might if you took off that ring, but more than that, no one's going to expect a female Wyrdling to be of any skill with a spear. The House of Steel won't come for you directly. They'll hire assassins, and those assassins will die if they attack you while you're wearing armor. Let me commission a suit of armor for you, Maeve. It will make me feel better."

He's not trying to force me to do anything. He just wants… to protect me. I can see it in those eyes. A desire to keep me safe, just as he'd promised during our betrothal ceremony. I give him a nod. I'll let him buy me a suit of armor. I'll let him do the things that make him feel like I'm safer.

My hand moves toward him, my fingers barely touching his. "We've put off the conversation for several days now, but Cole, it's time that I try to speak with Calyr. The journey to Draenyth and these first few days in the city have been hard, but Hazel needs me to find a cure for what I did to her."

Cole's icy blue eyes darken at the mention of talking to Calyr. "I've put off talking about that, not because I want to delay you, but because it's far more difficult than you'd expect. Calyr resides within the mountain. There are four entrances to his cave, two of which are blocked permanently. The other two are more heavily guarded than anywhere else in Draenyth."

Confusion knits my brows together. "But everyone knows Calyr can grant wishes. The Shade told me he was the only being who could save my cousin. Why would his cave be guarded?"

"Because the wishes that Calyr could grant could ruin my father's and Gethin's plans. What if someone wished to have their bloodline changed?"

I blink. I hadn't thought of that. "Has it always been that way?"

Cole nods. "For as long as I've been alive. Only a handful of people have ever been allowed in to see Calyr. Most of them have been high-ranking nobles. The others have managed to sneak past the guards, most of them from the House of Shadows. But beyond that, you do realize that Calyr does not grant wishes for free, correct? You must offer something that is as valuable as the wish you'd like fulfilled. Do you have anything of that kind of value?"

I look down at the table. I have nothing of value. I never have. "No," I whisper.

Cole sighs and shakes his head. "Maeve," he says my name as he picks up my hand and pushes it toward my face. "That ring is one of the ancient artifacts of the House of Shadows. The Forgotten Ring has shown up in history a handful of times, and then it disappears just as fast. Like the Shadowed Cloak that the Shade wears, they're pieces of magic that were made by Vyran, the dragon that created the House of Shadows. More valuable than entire vaults of gold, there are few items in the world more valuable than that ring."

Well… that changes things. It's strange to look at the silver ring with the tiny black gem in it and see it in the light that Cole's given it. It certainly doesn't look valuable or powerful. Just a little trinket you'd give to a young girl. The only unusual thing I ever recognized was that it always seemed to fit. Whether I was three years old or an adult, it always fit perfectly. The only time it's ever fallen off is when I hurt Hazel.

The little black gemstone doesn't shimmer in the light. In fact, no matter how the light hits it, it refuses to shine. Like it absorbs the light, negating any chance to draw attention to it.

"So I could trade the ring to save Hazel?"

Cole shrugs. "It's valuable. I don't know why Calyr wouldn't take it."

I nod slowly. "Now we just need to come up with a plan to get me into Calyr's cave."

I'm not sure if Cole's grin should worry me or make me happy. "Oh, I already have a plan for that. It mostly just involves waiting. In a little more than two weeks, my father is hosting the event he called me back to Draenyth for. Everyone will be there. The guards will be focused on what's happening. You'll have the best chance to get in, talk to Calyr, and get out then. I can have Darian and Lee waiting for you so that they can fly you out of the city and back to Aerwyn as soon as you're done."

I blink. It sounds like Cole has it all planned out. I should be happy about that. When Cole has a plan, it usually seems to work out well. But something seems wrong about all of this, and I don't know what it is.

"So we just sit around until your father's event?"

He nods, a wide grin on his face. "Well, we'll keep training, and maybe you can show me what you know about your shadow magic. Other than that, we try not to draw any attention to ourselves."

That sounds too simple. Too neat and tidy. Then he says, "Well, there is one other thing we'll need to do. There's a ball the night before the event. I'll need you to go with me. We'll have to dance a few times, and then we can leave. Just enough that everyone can see us together. My father will take notice if we aren't there."

The way he says it, I realize that this is the part that he was hesitant to tell me. This is why it had felt wrong. "What's so bad about that?"

"You won't just be dancing with me, Maeve. It would be exceptionally rude and noticeable if you refused to dance with anyone else."

One-on-one with an unknown number of the most dangerous males in the world. Unable to be armored. Forced to go into a room filled with people just as cruel as Casimir Cyrus. "How do I stay safe?" I whisper. "They'll be close enough that they'll smell me, won't they?"

Cole shakes his head. "No, you'll smell like me. You don't have to worry about that. The only thing you'll need to worry about is… not being caught in a lie. We're going to have to figure out some very convincing explanations for why we're betrothed."

I'm going to have to get to know Cole enough to convince an entire room of very clever, very old Immortals who are going to be trying very hard to get information out of me. Talk about walking on a razor's edge.

"Then I guess we aren't just going to sit around and relax for these last few days."

Cole's eyes change again. The darkness fading and turning into something unusual. Not frustration or confusion. No, this is something else. "No. I guess not." It's sadness. He wanted to spend at least a few more days relaxing with me.

That tingle down my spine pushes me. I don't know why, but everything inside me is desperate to make that sadness go away. I reach out and take his hand in mine, my fingers running along the coarse callouses of his hands as I hold them tight. "We won't have to work the whole time. Maybe we can make this fun."

The thought of my cousin when we were young flashes through my mind. Fun.

Ever since I've known him, he's been so determined that it felt almost like he couldn't comprehend doing anything else.

He looks at me, at least a little hopeful. "I don't know. There are a lot of things you need to learn."

The corner of my lip curls up. "I'm sure we can even make learning fun, Cole."

At that, he arches an eyebrow, and I pull my hand away. I have his attention now, but I don't have any idea how to actually do it. "You'll just have to wait and see."

And I'll just have to figure it out as we go.