“Hard to believe I might want to keep you alive? Yeah, I know. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” He smirked.
The last thing I wanted to do was train.
I wanted a bedroll. Food. A bath. A sleeping draft to help me forget the hideous, monstrous face of a skinwraith and to numb the ache still radiating from my ribs. A way to warn the tribe about the attack without condemning myself—or putting more lives at risk.
But I had none of that right now.
What I had was a Sealed Pendaran—irritated or not—standing in front of me, offering to train me for a deadly trial. Dammit.
I deepened my glare. “Fine.” I started back toward the brook. “Come with me.”
“Your gratefulness is oozing from your skin.”
“What can I say? I’m learning lots from you already, Rykr.”
Chapter 22
Seren
Every inch of my body hurt from the last three nights of training with Rykr. I shifted in my bedroll, my eyes closed, trying to remember what had torn me from sleep just now.
Sleep beckoned. Then the squadron member who’d been sleeping closest to me shook me. “Roll call.”
I groaned, blinking, and sat slowly. Sleeping in a sack had done nothing for my healing ribs, but I was cold, too. Exhausted and sore. Rykr’s training had been brutal.
The swiver.
Since we’d arrived at the training field, each day had been the same—watchtower duty with my squadron all day, stealing whatever snatches of time I could to read about the Skorn, then sneaking as far as I dared at night to train with Rykr until I begged for sleep.
Strictly speaking, I wasn’t breaking any rules—Darya had said no conjugal visits and these sessions with Rykr had been anything but.
The close proximity had been a challenge, though.
His hands had been all over me—not the gentle touch of a lover—but the fierce and practiced ease of a warrior who knew every way possible to dismantle his enemy. Unfortunately for me, that hadn’t done a damn thing to quell my attraction to him. If anything, it had only sharpened it.
On the other hand, I’d never had anyone like him instruct me before—not even my father. Had he been holding back? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see his daughter become lethal. Or maybe Rykr was just better. More skilled. More ruthless.
I’d learned more in these last few nights with Rykr—while he was still in irons—than I had in months of training with my squadron.
“Seren?” Darya interrupted my thoughts. I jerked my chin up, realizing too late I’d missed her taking roll.
“Present,” I muttered, raising a weary hand.
A thin layer of snow had blanketed the forest floor overnight and the side of my face that had been exposed to the air felt like ice. With a dry mouth, I started getting ready for the day as Darya continued addressing our group of twenty-five Vangar.
Hopefully Rykr had fared better than I had in the cold.
I missed him.
The thought unsettled me, but it was true. His voice felt quieter in my mind. He’d told me my mother was training him—helping him control the bond, how to block me out. I was jealous, but stuck here, there wasn’t much I could do. And if I knew my mother, helping Rykr was as much for her benefit as his. With still no news from Father, Madoc, or Esme, she needed something to occupy her mind.
We all did.
“Today we’ll be joining the other squadrons for a sparring championship,” Darya announced. “I expect all of you to participate in challenging the current champions in the sparring rings, who have been fighting since early morning.” She directed a look at me. “No exceptions.”
Apprehension wove through the squadron. We’d been on watchtower duty for three days—most of us weren’t warmed up, let alone prepared to fight.
I shouldered my heavy pack, eyes burning from exhaustion.
