Page 98 of Embers of Ruin

Onyx stands near the wall with Cadrin, his arms folded, jaw tight, watching me with the same unwavering focus he usually does. Mazelle stands beside a rack of practice blades, gloved hands clasped, looking severe. As I said, nothing changes.

If she still resents me for throwing her across the Sacred Gardens…she hides it well. Then again…knowing Mazelle, she could just be waiting for the perfect opportunity to return the favor.

“This looks ominous,” I say as I step into the circle.

Thorin lifts his gaze from the practice sword in his hand. “Good morning, Lyra. I hope you are well rested from last night.”

“That depends entirely on what you have planned for me today. It could be a good morning, or it could be an awful morning. I never know around here.”

“You make it sound as though we enjoy causing you distress.”

I give him a pointed look.

One corner of his mouth lifts lazily. “Maybe occasionally. But I do not have to threaten you to train your magic anymore, so the worst part is over.”

Well…at least he’s honest.

“If this is more physical training, I’d like to file a formal complaint against Lieutenant Mazelle for attempted murder.”

Cadrin snorts. I turn my glare on him, and he suddenly finds the far wall fascinating. I thought he might.

“You were never in danger of dying,” Mazelle replies, holding her hand up as she examines her nails.

“Only because I'm stubborn and refuse to die.”

“Well, looks like you have figured out a passing survival strategy. Would you like the king to throw you a royal dinner for that?”

Before I can give my own snide remark, Thorin cuts in. "Lieutenant Mazelle has bruised your body enough for one week."

I blink. “Does that mean no training today?”

“Absolutely not.”

He reaches for a second blade and turns back to me, extending the hilt.

“Today, you'll be training with me.”

Sweet goddess of life… spare me.

* * *

Thorin turns toward the center of the yard. “Today, we’re not coaxing life from soil. Today, you learn to defend yourself with your magic and a blade.”

The words settle between us before my sarcasm has a chance to save me. Defend. My stomach twists in ugly knots. I’ve spent my entire life using magic to heal. Now he wants me to wield it alongside a weapon. My attention shifts to the shadows gathered loosely at his feet, gliding across the sand. Waiting for him. Or waiting for me. It's becoming harder to tell.

“I thought you wanted me to control my magic.” That was originally the plan, and now it’s shifted. Maybe he’ll give me an answer as to why we’re shifting goals.

“I do want you to control your magic. But to do that, you need to learn how to use it to protect yourself.”

“It sounds like you want me to weaponize it.”

“The two are not separate skills.”

A chill slips through me that has nothing to do with the morning cold. “They should be.”

“Well, they are not. Are you ready?”

I hate the certainty in his voice, but I prepare myself anyway. Everything in this palace has been quietly teaching me the same thing: my magic isn’t gentle simply because it can heal. It threw Mazelle through the air. It cracked stone. It made his shadows recoil. Maybe hiding from it never kept anyone safe. Maybe it only kept me ignorant.