Chapter 27

The morning after I nearly ate the Black Art, Aldred reported to my room and explained he'd been assigned to lead my training. The commander offered no explanation as to why the sudden switch in my training partner, and I didn't bother to ask. Though I suppose licking my lips at the sight of his open wounds would be enough to prompt the bravest of warriors to take a step back.

Aldred and I have been sparring the past week, mostly with swords but with some hand-to-hand combat sprinkled in too. Occasionally, I spot Sin making his rounds through the courtyard, overseeing his armies and stepping in as needed, but never veering too close to where we trained.

He must have paid Anika a visit the night of our altercation because he prowls the grounds with no signs of injury, as if the incident never happened at all. His eyes never even glance our direction when he comes near, perhaps because he trusts his commander enough to leave us alone, or maybe he simply doesn't want to be close to me. Either way, I'm content to be rid of his ever so sunny disposition.

Aldred is pleasant enough. He doesn't bore me with small talk and lets me take short breaks when I need to. Additionally, he doesn't seem to mind training with a bloodwitch. The commander has never brought up what I am, and I suppose I respect him for that reason alone.

With the castle at my rear, I don't see him approach. And my mind is too focused on perfecting the elbow-to-chin strike Aldred showed me to hear his footsteps. It isn't until Aldred suddenly snaps to attention and jerks his hand to his brow in a salute that I sense him behind me, courtesy of the tugging on the phantom tether between us.

"How is our favorite bloodwitch performing, Commander?" Sin asks from behind me. Though I can't see him, I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head, like a deer knowing a wolf lurks just out of sight. Watching.

Always watching.

Aldred drops his arm to his side as he rattles off a report of the techniques we've covered, what we are currently working on, and my overall progress. I laugh once without humor and tug my bottom lip between my teeth as they talk about me, like I'm a child being handed over to her nanny.

Sin moves so he stands perpendicular to me, the side of my shoulder nearly brushing against his chest. "Learn any new tricks?" he asks, the smugness in his tone sending my fingers curling into my palms.

Desperate to swipe that infuriating smirk from his face, I whirl towards him, my right hand slipping into the waist of my trousers and grabbing the athame I tucked inside my pants. I halt the blade an inch from the underside of his chin.

"I learned to never rely on one weapon. First rule of combat, Blackheart." I tilt my head to the side, flashing him a smile as sweet as iced violet tea.

Sin's mouth widens into a wicked smile as I spew his earlier words back at him. The distinct sound of a sword being pulled from its leather holster licks at my ears, and Sin throws a hand out towards Aldred, a silent order for him to back down.

The Black Art drags his tongue against the fronts of his teeth in a movement that is pure predator, and looks down at me from under those dark brows, absolute amusement gleaming in his vivid green eyes. He wraps a hand around mine and lowers the knife between us before uncurling my fingers from the dagger and prying it from my hands. Turning it over in his hand, Sin studies the athame from hilt to blade.

"Elysande?" he asks with a note of surprise.

I nod. "Is there a problem with that?"

He shrugs. "A little unusual, but I suppose a bloodwitch would worship the goddess of war."

I can't tell if he intends the comment as an insult or not, but I scrunch my face in an exaggerated smirk and hold my hand out expectantly. He strokes a bronzed finger over the carving of the dancing goddess before placing it in my waiting palm, curling my fingers back around the handle and lowering my hand to my side.

"I'll let you two get back to it, then. Glad to see you listen, little witch," he says over his shoulder as he strides off towards the next row of sparring partners.

Aldred shoots me a disapproving look, which I meet with a shrug and sink back into my fighting stance.

* * *

I attempt another locator spell in the evening, drawing a map on a spare sheet of parchment, but it yields the same crimson vines climbing to each corner of the paper. I crumple the map and fling it into the wastebasket, then heal the incision I made to perform the spell.

I barely finish healing my wounded palm when River taps on the door twice. She hurries in and places a tea tray on the bedside table.

"Evening, dear. I've come to inform you that His Grace has requested your presence on an upcoming trip."

"Requested?" I repeat, calling out the lie, though I'm certain she didn't mean it as such.

She scoffs, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "You leave tomorrow morning. Best pack your things tonight and be ready by sunrise. His Grace is very particular about leaving at first light."

"Where are we going?"

"Isn't for me to know, dear. The tea is chamomile," she adds matter-of-factly. "It will help you sleep, and I suggest you drink up because you're likely in for a long day tomorrow, wherever you're going. You'll want your rest."

I nod and mutter a thank you, accepting it isn't River that has my nerves bundled so tightly. Heeding her advice, I shove a few clean sets of clothes into a satchel. I don't know how long we'll be gone, but if the number of days is more than the number of outfits I bring, Sin can deal with the smell.

Exhaustion seeps into my bones, and I slip into bed without drinking the tea.