“Baradaz.” Instinctively, I reached out to capture it. She shuddered at my touch, then shook her head, turning away from the garden—and from me. My hand lingered in the air for a moment longer, unable to bridge the chasm that had formed between us.
“The meeting went well,” Rada said. “After the attack on the Sommerhalt farm, everyone agrees that strengthening the militia is a good idea. They want to meet you, though.” She cast a tense glanceat me. “And there has been talk of sending someone to Rasga to ask for help.”
My arm fell to my side. “I expect you have tried to dissuade them?” I asked, struggling to mask the pain in my voice. No matter what we did, we couldn’t escape the shadows of our past. “Lasgallen’s army has no magic users who could deal with the likes of Deira.”
“I know.” Rada forced a smile as she waved at Dolores and Ulyss in greeting. “Besides, Queen Sarella is young and untested. If she suspects the forces of Chaos are behind the threat, she will call on Lyrheim for aid. And I don’t think either of us wants Aramaz or one of the others to come here.”
The enormity of the choice she was making suddenly hit me. She was trusting me with the fate of the home she had built for herself, and its people, when our past should lead her to do the opposite—when she should have given up on me long ago. I could only stare at her. The fierce emotion that had lingered within me the entire day was so enormous it stole my voice.
“Rada,” I finally pressed out, her name half promise, half plea. It seemed to be enough, though, as a small smile lifted her lips.
“Together. We will weather this storm together,” she said, taking my hand, her eyes bright and sure. “And now I need you to be your most charming self and help me deal with Portia Sommerhalt before I strangle that impossible woman.”
I didn’t dare resist as she pulled me into the house.
CHAPTER
43
Rada
The handsome lines of Tristan’s face hardened with determination as he swung his sword in a graceful arc toward Noctis’s head, the blade a mere silver gleam in the air. He was quick, I noted, having never seen him fight before. Not that Noctis had any trouble countering his attack. The way he didn’t even raise his own weapon held more than a hint of self-assured insolence. With a swift sidestep, he rammed his shoulder into the young Human, his elbow crashing into Tristan’s extended arm, sending him sprawling across the training field as his sword skittered over the packed earth.
“Oh, that must have hurt,” a deep voice rumbled behind me as Tristan lay on the ground, not getting up at once. Our first training session with the militia had drawn quite a crowd. Not only had the Council of Elders insisted on attending, but Ulyss and Dolores had also followed us out to the cluster of barracks next to the river, accompanied by Kyree and Alona. The young Drakuul girl had embraced me with a wide grin, while Kyree’s smile was taut, the healer painfully aware that my presence in Dalath was not underpleasant circumstances. Still, all the spectators were a small price to pay for the ease with which Noctis and I had convinced the village elders that strengthening the militia and investigating the threat to Dalath’s safety was wiser than relying on help from Rasga.
With one notable exception. An amused smile tugged at my lips as I recalled the exasperation on Noctis’s face as Portia Sommerhalt had relentlessly critiqued every minute detail of his training methods, her thin lips pinched in disapproval. It was rare that he encountered someone he could not charm effortlessly. Not that he bothered all that often.
Humiliating Portia’s son in training would surely not win him her favor. A frustrated flush colored Tristan’s cheeks as he struggled to his feet and fetched his sword, not for the first time.
“Damn, he is good,” Ursa remarked as she and Ria approached me. The pair could not have been more different, the blonde Northerner towering over the slim half-Elf, who hailed from Laurelin Forest. I leaned casually against the stable wall, which bordered one side of the training space while the other opened up to the river, allowing a gentle breeze to cool the combatants. Ursa’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced at me. “And he’s quite the sight while crushing his enemies. Is he that fierce in every situation?”
I bit my lip, unable to mask my captivation as I watched Noctis in combat. His movements were filled with lethal grace, a barely contained violence that set my heart racing. “As I said, we are only friends.”
Ursa laughed, clearly not believing me. “Now, no need to be shy with us.” Her large hand landed on my shoulder in a hearty clap. “I mean, good for you, girl. You’ve been living alone on that farm for far too long.”
“Speaking of the farm…” Adesh joined our conversation, his face twitching with empathy as Tristan hit the ground once more, although this time he managed to hold on to his weapon. “Ursa and Ria, after training, you are going to ride over and take the grain the mayor bought with you. You have the first round.”
I tensed as Noctis and Tristan squared off again in the middle of the open space. “This is not a game, Sommerhalt,” Noctis said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Could you at least pretend you are trying to hurt me?” My decision to let him test our recruits while I observed their skills might not have been as wise as I had thought. I had clearly overestimated his willingness to keep things impersonal.
“Really, Commander? We have to go to the farm?” Ria grumbled beside me, leaning forward to catch Adesh’s eye. “I want to fight. I wouldn’t mind the chance to shove my sword up those beasts’—”
“Hush, love.” Ursa gently pulled her back with an indulgent smile. “Our time to fight will come soon enough.”
“I fear that’s true.” My tone was somber as I pushed off the wall, deciding it was time to intervene. “Let’s hope we get a few more days to train before the next attack.”
I had agreed with the mayor and Adesh that our best strategy for now was to increase patrols in the area and ask around if anyone had noticed something suspicious. While most local farms were as remote as mine, people tended to come to the village at least once every moon. A horde of Rakash accompanied by one or more strangers could not simply vanish without a trace.
My gaze wandered to the dark sky over Milford Ridge. Briseis had not arrived yet, and I couldn’t suppress a surge of worry. It was unlike her to miss the farmer’s market, especially after we had agreed to meet in the village.
Before I could interrupt Noctis and Tristan’s latest round, Portia Sommerhalt’s sharp voice cut through the air. “I fail to see what us watching you defeat every single opponent is supposed to accomplish. Should you not teach them to become better fighters?”
Inna Farrows, the baker, nodded in agreement, and I noticed several other elders cast questioning glances at the mayor. My jaw tightened. Trust Portia to sow discord within the Council.
Noctis drove the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned on the hilt, seemingly unruffled by the comment. “It allows Rada and me to assess the skill level of every fighter,” he replied calmly, his head tilted as he regarded the Sommerhalt matriarch. “And then decide who needs the most attention. So I fear, if you have come here to watch some impressive battle skills, you will be disappointed.”
“How long did you say you served in the armies of Order?” Theron, the miller, interjected. “You seem quite young for someone with this level of skill.”
A twinge of unease coursed through me. Some of the older citizens of Dalath, like Theron, had fought in the war themselves. Noctis would have to tread carefully.
