“Skills like this take practice,” Ethenn said. “Sometimes, that means getting hurt in the process.”
Ilain’s eyes twinkled in the firelight. “And what happens if you pass out from blood loss?”
“Then I’ll try again when I wake up.”
Her quick chortle made Ethenn feel inordinately proud.
Ilain patted his knee. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said and turned away.
Smiling to himself, Ethenn continued his practice. He hadn’t been fully honest with Ilain. Yes, sleight of hand like this took practice, but that wasn’t the only reason he was so doggedly trying to learn.
Brea’s words stuck in Ethenn’s head.“You’ll need several years more practice to truly become a master.”
It wasn’t that Ethenn minded being a subpar Warrior. It was expected. He was young and inexperienced. Until four months ago, he’d never been trained in combat. All his experience came from hunting and the instincts that had helped him win brawls in Trollenston’s fighting ring. Heshouldn’tbe as proficient as Evylin or Brea.
Yet, he was disappointed in himself. And worse, he was confused.
Why would Ilain choose him to be her husband? If she was determined to be a ruler, if this had been her desired destiny since youth, why would she choose him? Several other male Warriors, who were undoubtedly more impressive and mature options, were available, so why would she choosehim?
Ethenn flicked his wrist, but the dagger stuck in his sleeve again, its point sharp as it pricked him. He grimaced but kept silent.
He’d been told time and time again that Ilain Calder was the most powerful Mage in two centuries. Why choose a man half her age with abilities that couldn’t even begin to compare to those she displayed naturally? It didn’t make sense.
While conversation rolled around him, Ethenn kept his eyes on his task until Brea spoke up.
“Vayden,” she said casually, “sing something for us.”
Ethenn looked up, knowing the woman’s schemes. Though Vayden shrugged, unbothered with performing in front of their troop, Ethenn didn’t have any interest in dancing in front of the camp. “No,” he said sharply.
Everyone looked at him in confusion.
Heat crept up Ethenn’s neck in time with his rising agitation. “Not here.”
Brea ignored him. “I think the ‘Ol’ Barrow’s Reel’ would be a good start,” she said to Vayden. “It’s got an easy rhythm. Not too slow.”
“I don’t know how to dance, Brea,” Ethenn protested.
Rafferty started laughing. “Are we having a party?” he asked.
“Ethenn is learning control,” Brea corrected, then gave the Warrior a flat look. “If I am going to train you, you will do as I say, whether you want to or not. If you refuse, I will no longer offer my assistance.”
Ethenn clenched his fists, the dagger in his sleeve slipping down to embed itself into the heel of his hand. “Bloody hell,” he exclaimed, then fiercely pulled the blade free. A hot trickle of blood welled out of the cut, filling his palm.
“Heavens,” Ilain muttered, then grabbed his wrist. “Let me see.”
While she ministered to the cut with a warming burst of magic, Brea waited for Ethenn’s submission. He ground his teeth against the pain in his hand, the embarrassment of the moment, and the fact that no matter how much he didn’t want to dance in front of everyone, he couldn’t afford to lose his trainer.
“Fine,” Ethenn said bitterly. “I’ll do it.”
Brea nodded and turned back to Vayden.“‘Ol’ Barrow’s Reel,’”she repeated.
Vayden smirked. “Is this dance a free-for-all? Or is it only Lainy who gets to join the corporal?” he asked.
“He’s my husband,” Ilain said.
“Doesn’t mean he has to dance with you.”
The skin on his hand now healed, Ethenn stood and held it out to Ilain even as he addressed her brother. “I won’t be dancing with anyone else,” he said.
