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“No!” both Bastian and Levi say in unison.
Grayson rolls his eyes and shakes his head at Evie. “Cirrus has already sent his best courtier after her. The guy’s desperate to have control over a key piece in the prophecy beyond the piece of parchment he has stowed away. Levi and Mari will distract him while the rest of us find out where he’s hiding it.”
Bastian taps the side of his glass with his fork. It’s obvious he’s stewing. “She needs a lot more training first. The son of a bitch lured her away from Mafekadi, taking Levi out with a touch of his palm. She needs to understand their tricks.”
Levi crosses his arms, frowning. His silence is deafening.
“What do you think?” I touch his arm. He’s the expert in the fae.
He uncrosses his arms to sign. “We need to keep you safe, but I understand we must possess the other part of the prophecy for the other savior to be revealed. Uncle Bracken won’t tell me anything.” Pushing back in his chair, he places his plate on top of mine. “I need to be the one to teach her about the ways of the fae.” He glances at Bastian. “You can train her in the mornings, but I’d like the afternoons.”
“Deal.” Bastian scoops another helping of grits. “We’ll need a foolproof plan in place before stepping foot in Frostacre. Cirrus knows you exist and will expect us. As I see it, this is our first step in the long battle ahead.”
Bastian waits for me by the whetting stone. We’ve had no opportunity to talk about what happened last night. Just the sight of him—hair tied back, blue eyes on me, weapons crisscrossing his chest—brings back the longings. He’s right. I need to break free from the years of the Council telling me how to live my life. But it might be a slow process.
“Your quiver is over there,” he says in a flat voice, clearly not feeling the same magnetism I am at the sight of him. My heart deflates.
“Will we train with the others?” I jog to keep up with him as he starts the trek on the wooded trail. I’m not sure if either of us can take Rafe’s relentless flirting today.
He doesn’t turn around. “No, we’ll train alone.”
Instead of engaging in small talk and skirting the actual conversation we need to have, I remain silent. On the strap across his back, he has multiple daggers of different materials—iron, silver, wood, and steel. Unlike the soldiers of Avren with their fancy uniforms and polished swords, it’s clear Bastian knows how to fight. If I hadn’t seen him kill Quinn, I’d still know he was one of the best around.
“We’ll work on your bow skills first.” He removes his weapons, letting them fall to the ground with a clang. “Then we’ll practice your dagger accuracy and hand-to-hand combat skills.”
I chew on my lip, disliking his impersonal assessment of our time together. “Bastian, I…”
He removes an arrow from the quiver I set by the tree and lifts the bow. “You don’t have to explain.” His focus isn’t on me but on a grove of trees on the far side of the meadow. He lets the arrow fly, hitting his target with deadly accuracy.
“Can we at least talk about it?” I pull at an arrow in the quiver, but its head is stuck on the other shafts. I keep yanking at it, frustrated. When it finally breaks free, I plop onto my bottom, unable to control my emotions any longer. Hot tears well in my eyes as I look down at a broken arrow. A perfect metaphor for my heart.
Bastian sets down the bow and sits beside me. He clasps his hands between his knees. “Listen. I get it. Well, maybe I don’t totally get it, but I’m trying to understand what you’ve been through. Gray explained it to me. It took him two full years before he’d touch a woman. Upbringing runs deep. It’s amazing you’ve kissed a man who’s not your husband.” He sighs, digging a heel into the dirt. “I’m a patient person. You’re worth waiting for. And I’ll wait as long as it takes. Besides, I enjoy just being around you.”
I watch my hand shake as I bridge the short expanse between us and rest it on his knee. “You don’t understand how much I want to.”
The corner of his lip lifts. “Oh, I think I do.” He leans in close, cupping my cheek and bringing his lips to mine. Their gentleness melts me, turning my insides to molten lava. And almost as quickly as his lips touch mine, he pulls away. “We better get to taking down some of these killer trees.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The morning passes quickly with archery target practice. By the end of a couple of hours, I’m hitting a tree three out of four times. Bastian’s an excellent teacher and proves his patience isn’t only reserved for the bedroom.
It must be close to noon when we move to daggers. In a demonstration in throwing the weapon, he removes ten daggers from his weapons arsenal. Within a two minute time period, he flings and accurately hits a one-foot circle he drew with ash on a tree with each weapon.
I hold a dagger in my hand, conjuring memories of the werewolf’s feverish body above me in the woods. A slick of sweat forms on my forehead as I try to zone in on the target. It fluctuates in and out of focus as my body continues to heat with the memory of killing the creature. Taking my stance, I draw back my arm, then arch it forward, releasing the weapon. It falls to the right of the tree in what seems like miles away from the target.
“At least you have the distance.” Bastian stuffs his hands in his pockets with his attention still on the tree. “You’ve got to see your dagger hitting the tree when you release. Channel that energy through your arm, wrist, and hand.” With another knife in hand, he takes his stance beside me. “You need a steady wrist, or it will fly all over the place.” He follows through with the motion and exaggerates his position.
“Are you going to drag out my training for days to keep me from going to Frostacre?” I let the question hang in the air between us. In my gut, I know he doesn’t want me to go. I don’t have the steel to stand up to the Unseelie Court.
He doesn’t look up at me but sits on a nearby stump, his hands once again between his knees. “You’re not even eighteen, and Gray wants you to act like a brave warrior.”
“I’ll be eighteen next week. Will you let me go then?” I lift my chin, not wanting him, more than anyone, to treat me like a baby.
He lets out a short laugh. “You can go. I’m not preventing you. But if you can hit a persuasive fae disillusioning you with glamour between the eyes with an iron dagger, it might serve you well.”
“What if I’m not strong enough to see through it?” Images of Quinn fill my head. He was charming and drew me in like a fly to a spider’s web.
“Levi will work with you on that this afternoon.” He checks the sun’s position in the sky. “He’s probably waiting for you now. Let’s go back and eat lunch.”
