“Your form is improving with the dagger. We will start there. Then,” he grinned despite his best efforts, “we move on to grappling.”
She gave him a sly look. “What if I don’t want to get out from under you?”
He froze a beat before he recovered, then shot her a smirk over his shoulder. “Be a good student, Neferet, and I might allow that.”
A blush spread from her chest to her cheeks, making him want to chase it with his mouth. But training came first.
He tossed the wooden dagger, and she caught it effortlessly, joining him on the mats with confidence, as if she belonged there.
“You are forgetting something,” he said, trying to hide his amusement.
Iliana frowned, looking down at her stance. “Forgetting what?”
He moved closer to her and sat on the mat. “Stretching.”
She gave him a sheepish grin before sitting, stretching beside him. “Do you miss home?” she asked, rolling her shoulders slowly and stretching her neck.
He paused mid-stretch and answered. “Not particularly.”
“I mean, you’re the god of the afterlife. Don’t you have a lot of responsibilities?”
“I still have them,” he admitted. “I was the Lord of the Dead for centuries, but now I guide them and protect their tombs.”
“You protect them?” Iliana asked.
“Yes, I ensure the dead are treated with dignity, showing them respect. I help them prepare for their journey to the afterlife and oversee the soul’s final judgment.” He shrugged. “I give them the best chance at safe passage.”
A look of understanding and possible gratitude crossed her face. “That’s…beautiful, actually.”
Anubis couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen that part of him. Accepted it, even. How could something so simple mean so much?
He got to his feet, needing to move off the mat before he pushed her down and showed her how much her acceptance meant to him.
Iliana followed. “So, you can read people’s souls?” she asked, stretching her arm across her chest.
He wrapped an arm around her from behind, holding her shaking arm in the stretch. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I can.”
She shivered, leaning against him. He released her arm and pulled the other in the same motion, her muscles tensing before relaxing into it.
“What do you see in mine?”
He let her arm go and set his hands on her hips. “A fighter. A woman full of passion and life.” He brushed a soft kiss just below her ear. “I see hope.”
Her head tilted toward him. “I want to believe that.”
He almost pulled her to him, but stepped back instead. “Grab your dagger, Neferet. It’s time to train.”
Iliana stepped away, steadier, but her cheeks were still flushed when she raised her blade. She was perfect, just as she was.
Her stance, however, was not. He corrected her before moving on to the lesson.
An hour of movements and instructions later, Iliana’s strikes landed harder, and her footwork steadied. Anubis noticed her arms tremble as she grew accustomed to the real blade, heavier than her wooden training one. Switching from wood to steel was an important lesson. It marked the move from practice to true combat. This was real. One day, she might have to use it.
When her footwork slipped again, he called it. “That is enough.”
Iliana sat on the mat, her grin stretching across her face. Pure pride.
“You did well,” he praised, handing her a towel.
