Page 16 of Maleen

His red eyes widen as he glances around as if searching for help, but there is none. I almost want to beam at his nervousness, but I keep the coy expression on my face. “I should really keep training the new warriors; they need all the assistance they can get.”

One of the males in the ground pipes up. “With all due respect sir. She is our future Queen, and if she needs help then who better than you? A Vopn Fö legend.” Killian goes to open his mouth but the male isn’t finished. “Don’t worry, I’ll go run laps for talking without permission,” he mutters and rises to his feet on shaky legs before heading off to do said laps.

At this point I’m holding back a stomach-shaking laugh at Killian’s face turning as scarlet as his eyes. “I’m sure they can manage to do their drills for a few hours before you beat them into the ground again.”

He scowls and grumbles, but instead of it scaring me, it makes me giddy, especially as he pulls his blade from its sheath. “Fine. Get in position.”

And this is where I blame Jesper’s influence for what comes out of my mouth. “Just tell me how you want me, sir.” My voice comes out almost breathy, and his eye twitches before he growls again. This time I adjust my feet to be shoulder-width apart, my knees slightly bent as I grip my sword in both hands. Carefully I dip into a tiny bit of magick to block the sharp edges of our blades with air, making them blunt—something Killian has demanded we do while we spar with weapons.

Without warning he comes at me, and I barely have a moment to get my blade up to block his. The metal clashes and rings out across the yard.

He leans down so he’s hovering just above me. “I know what you’re doing Little Warrior, and it’s not going to work, no matter how much I want it to.” He pulls back again before our swords meet, over and over, and that’s when I know he’s taking it easy on me.

“Fight me properly,” I growl, this time going on the offense and taking a swing to his shoulder which he easily blocks.

“Then stop with this foolishness; it will only end up with both of us hurt.” His blade swings and I spin out of the way—next thing I know my back is pinned against the front of him with his swords pressed gently into my throat, so gently that even if the air wasn’t dulling the blade it wouldn’t have made a mark.

I press into him and notice that he isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be. “We are mates, Killian. Fate tied us together, and I know you would never hurt me. I will make you see this. I’m not going to let you avoid me anymore.” I press my back into him, feeling his hardened length twitch. “Our hearts have always been tied, and I have patience, but I need you to see what I see.”

“And what’s that?” he grumbles so low I almost miss it.

“That you are worthy of love.”

I peer up and he’s gazing at me, his expression full of pain and hope.

“Watch out!” A voice yells, snapping us out of our bubble.

Killian shoves me off to the side and I land on the ground hard. A slicing pain sears across my hand and the warm sticky feeling of blood coats it. “Fuck”

A male is apologizing profusely to Kill as I rise back up to my feet. My mate grabs the male by the throat and lifts him off the ground. “Throwing weapons are only to be used at the range. You should be tried for treason!” he bellows, spit flying as his rage takes over—rage I have never seen from him before.

He slams the male into the ground and a crunch echoes through the silent training yard as bones break.

“Killian, I am fine. Let the male go.”

He doesn’t look back toward me, but he pauses. “He almost killed you.” The words sound almost animalistic. “The throwing blade would have hit you.”

“But it didn’t, and accidents happen—”

Another crack sounds and Killian rises to his full height. The male lays strewn on the ground behind him—dead. “They know the rules about throwing blades, Ravina, and that blade was aimed for your heart. He wasn’t Vathian, or ours.”

I stare at the male on the ground before my gaze meets Killian. He wants me to be afraid of him, as if him killing a male in order to protect me should make me run far away from him—but it does the opposite. My feet carry me forward before I know what I’m doing. “You don’t scare me.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before turning toward the rest of the troops. “No one leaves the training area. Once you are cleared you will go straight to your bunks.” Then his red eyes are on me again. “Call your mates.” When I don’t automatically respond he gives me a small shake. “Ravina, there was just an assassination attempt on your Fates-fucking life. Call your mates.”

My head feels dizzy, and as I go to touch my face, I remember that my hand is soaked in blood and still actively bleeding. “Jesper, Aemon, Nero. You need to come to the training yard. Someone tried to kill me.” Fucking Fates. Someone tried to kill me? Again? “They’re coming.”

“You’re bleeding.” Some of the anger leaks out of his voice.

I wave him off. “I think I landed on a stone when I hit the ground. Nero will heal it when he gets here.”

He nods and begins shouting orders, and that’s when it settles in: there’s nowhere in Damorleia that I’m safe. Nowhere.

Ember and Roz rush from nearby on the training field just as Aemon appears out of the shadows and storms across the field to me.

“I’m fine, this was my own doing,” I assure them, waving my bloodied hand towards them.

Aemon nods, pressing his lips quickly to mine. He pulls away, his face stern and lit with anger, before stalking towards Killian who’s still shouting orders at the warriors.