“Come,” Sainte urged again, pushing off the bed.
I groaned in protest as he rummaged through a chest near his cot. My head felt fuzzy, and my nose throbbed. My eyes, swollen and burning from tears, didn’t want to face any more pain. Wasn’t saying goodbye to friends enough for one day?
He hadn’t shared much about what happened to him during the ritual. He only mentioned that Nothar wasn’t the god who welcomed him across the Veil, but assured me of his blessing. Then he clammed up, refusing to disclose more. I took it as a warning to be cautious when seeking the gods.
Even Togamar warned they were not all in agreement. If some were actively helping me, I had to assume that others worked against me. I hadn’t considered that before I sent Sainte across the Veil, and guilt reared its ugly head for not going myself.
“Ellie, if you don’t get out of bed…”
I propped myself on my elbows and arched a brow, daring him to finish.
He pointed a sheathed dagger at me, then when he took in my sullen expression, he let out a heavy sigh. “Come, I will teach you to fight.”
Curious, I shoved myself upright, tilting my head. “You think I have a chance?”
“No,” he said, tone flat. “But—while Anderz and the Wolf search for the God Stones, you should at least prepare for the worst. Up.”
I doubted Sainte could teach me to defend myself against a man who practiced with a blade every day for years. Just my luck that my conceited brother didn’t get lazy with his dueling skills.
With a scoff, I kicked the blankets off, then threw my legs over the edge. “You should have asked Nothar where they were,” I grumbled, swaying as I stood.
Sainte grunted and handed me the dagger as I walked past him to my receiving room. It was the most spacious place in my chambers to spar, and we were trying to keep our heads down, avoid wandering about. There was less chance of Adastrus bothering himself to come to my rooms than if he happened upon me roaming the halls.
“A game,” he said, moving chairs against the wall.
I rubbed at my puffy eyes. “Oh, I like games.”
Not that I would win anything that involved blades. I wasn’t terribly competitive, but I was always a willing participant.
“As I expected.”
He grunted as he shoved the table to clear more space. His movements were stiff and sore from the past few days. This morning, he stretched in ways that made my mind wander to forbidden places, but each motion came with a grimace when he moved too quickly.
“Adastrus uses a blade. His is longer than this, but it's close enough.” He unbuckled his belt and slid off a single long, thin dagger, still in its sheath.
I examined the one he’d given me and tried to remove it from the leather hide, but it snagged on some twine tied to secure it in place.
He smirked at my efforts, then retrieved another piece of twine from his pocket, tying it around the hilt. “I’d rather not shed any more blood, if you don’t mind.”
“For once, we agree,” I huffed.
“You’re familiar with a dagger?”
“I grew up with them.”
I flipped the weapon in the air, catching it with ease. The sheath added an odd weight, but it was still more familiar than a sword or anything else they might shove into my fist.
As the challenged, I couldn’t choose the weapons, but I could set the date. It would be held at the castle’s armory, where there was a stage for duels. The room could hold a large group of witnesses and offered the benefit of being indoors. I’d have to ignore the bloodstains on the floor, grim reminders of my impending doom.
“I would rather have you in trousers–”
“Would you now?” I taunted, kicking my skirts to free some space around my legs.
His mouth snapped into a frown. “Aye, you’re used to fighting in them.”
“Alas, ‘tis not appropriate for a lady of the court to wear men’s clothing.”
“No.”
