“It’s not that easy, Fin.”
He thinks for a minute. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore. Maybe you should stay, so that mister Weston will give you your bow and we can practice together.”
“We can’t stay, remember? We have to get back to Dane, back to the Voyagers.” I plead with him to remember, but I know he is just a child. He doesn’t see the situation like I do, and he never will. At least not while we are in Dawnlin.
Maybe when we get home, once he’s grown, he will look back and understand that everything I did was only to protect him and keep him safe from this man who tried to take advantage of him.
A loud crow gets my attention, and I stand, looking around the deck only to see Jorn swinging down from the mast. A cheer rises among the Castaways as Weston and Sig step out onto the deck, arms piled with swords.
They’re not just any swords, they’re dull training swords, just like Brynne and I used back in Blackwood.
“Partner up!” Weston calls out before the deck erupts into more cheers, followed by the scattering of bodies.
Fin tries to crow like Jorn, and I suppress a giggle. “Come on, Fin. We can find something for target practice.”
“Not so fast, princess.” Weston’s eyes gleam as he saunters up to us. “You’re with me.”
As if he hasn’t tortured me enough this morning, now I have to spar with him too?
My mouth drops open, but the ‘no’ dies on my lips. My first reaction is to resist, to cause a fight on deck again, but I don’t. Maybe it isn’t a bad idea, fighting him and letting out the aggression that has been building up since Fin was taken.
I snap my jaw closed and snatch the practice sword he tosses at me out of the air. A look of approval flashes in his eyes, but as quick as I notice, it disappears again.
“Sig set up a bale for you to shoot, Fin. It’s right over there.” He points toward the bow of the ship, where a small bale sits near the rail, positioned so Fin won’t hit anyone if he misses.
Which is likely.
Fin runs over excitedly, and starts nocking an arrow, his feet and hold nothing like what we practiced back in camp.
The crew has come to life around us. Most pairs are already in the middle of a match, the clash of swords and laughter ringing out over the deck. Stassia and Auralie stand off to the side, swords balanced against the railing as they stretch their muscles before getting started. Jorn and another boy I haven’t met have already taken their fight to the floor, grappling and tossing each other about, laughing and taunting as they go.
The training session on the ship feels vastly different from what I’m used to back home. It doesn’t feel like work, or something everyone dreads going to. Everyone seems to actually enjoy it, like it isn’t a responsibility and more of just part of who they are.
Weston weaves through the practicing pairs, and I follow closely. He stops just shy of the far rail next to the opening for the gangway. Goosebumps prickle my skin when I look at how close we are to the open deck. The threat of falling into the water is very real.
Maybe if that happens, I’ll have a chance to escape.
“Now,” Weston says as he readies his dull training sword. “If you’re going to try to steal your dagger back from me, you’re at least going to learn how to use it. But first, let’s see how poorly you were trained.”
“What makes you think I don’t know how to use it?” I sneer as I raise my sword in front of my body.
“I know you don’t know how to use it. I watched you try to use it against me, remember?”
A smirk lifts his lips as he waits for me to attack, taunting me with his insult. I taste blood from biting my tongue. I don’t want to give him any satisfaction in knowing he’s getting to me.
I focus on everything Brynne has taught me through the years, trying to visualize the movements that used to be second nature. If there is a time I need them, it’s now. The sword is heavier in my hands than usual, and I know I’m going to have to compensate for my newfound weakness in the fight.
Just another reason I need my strength back.
I step toward him and strike, which he blocks easily. My movements are rough, not smooth and quick like I was trained, but I follow the strike with a backward swipe, a combination Brynne and I worked on for hours one day until it was fluid. He sidesteps it easily and shoots me a look that says, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
He’s clearly unimpressed.
Fuck him.
I try again, moving quicker than before as my muscles loosen and get used to the feel of the sword. The motions come back quickly, but he matches every one with a complete look of boredom as he swats my sword away.
He doesn’t say a word, not like Brynne, who constantly yells commands and adjustments while we are training. Instead, he just watches me, his eyes never leaving my body, and it fuels mydesire to best him. On the next blow, he knocks the sword from my hand and it clatters to the ground between us.
