Page 61 of A Lie so Pretty and Poisonous

“No. I think it’s best to keep this between us until there is a reason to let Gabriel know.”

Darragh’s shoulders dropped, and his muscles loosened.

I wrung my fingers. “Will you still teach me to defend myself? I may need it even more now.”

He turned and faced me. “I promised I would this evening. I am a man of my word.”

I grinned as my tears dried, eyes puffy. I didn’t doubt that for a second. “I look forward to it.”

Beads of sweat rolled down my overheated skin. The dark blue tunic I wore clung to my body, and waves had fallen from my braid, clinging to my face. The dust from the sparring arena coated me with each move I made. But I didn’t stop.

Shoulder. Step. Rotate. Punch.

Shoulder. Step. Rotate. Punch.

I was shy at first, a little embarrassed, but I was determined to get it right.

Darragh drilled me with instructions on striking form so I could develop what he called “muscle memory.” When I needed to throw a punch, my body would automatically know what to do as second nature. We had been at it for an hour, and I had yet to hit anything, punching at the air.

“Good, Rory!” Darragh praised. “You learn quickly! I wish all my new guardsmen would pick up training this fast.”

“You are just saying that,” I huffed out. I placed my hands on my knees, gulping for air.

“I’m not,” he protested, handing me a waterskin. “Most of the time, recruits are sent to me thinking they know how to properly fight, but they are nothing more than bad form and bad habits, causing them to get laid out on their backs. I don’t have to break any bad habits with you. Also, you take direction. The young guards coming in are either scared of me or refuse to listen to me. Either way, you are doing better than most, and it is because you have more to lose.”

My heart clenched when he spoke so nonchalantly about the way seraphs perceived him. “Does it bother you?” I took a large swig of water.

“Does what bother me?”

My voice softened. “The way everyone thinks you are some untrustworthy brute to be feared. How neither angheal nor daemonite will claim you as one of their own?”

He gave me a doleful smile. “I haven’t known anything else. It doesn’t help that I am often the one who is sent to bring people in for atonements.” He shrugged, but I could see through the wall of indifference he was hiding behind.

I stepped in front of him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “It would bother anyone.”

I took a step closer to him but fought the urge to reach out and touch him. “Why do you stay? Why not choose a different path? Move away and start over?”

His eyes darkened, but he smoothed his expression and shrugged. “I have lived here since I was thirteen.”

A barrage of emotions flitted across my face, and Darragh searched each one as they passed. “Rory, it’s alright. I take solace knowing that not everyone despises me. Most of my guards have warmed to my presence, though they all still have a bit of fear in them regarding my lineage. I have some friends in the kingdom, but I don’t get to see them often.”

“Like Ros?”

“Yes.”

Before I could help myself, I blurted out, “Is she your…”

Shut up, Rory!

He tilted his head. “My what?”

“Lover?” I said with immediate regret. A flush painted across my cheeks. “I’m sorry. That was not my place to ask.”

Darragh blinked once, twice, and let loose a thunderous laugh. A laugh that broke the tension from my horrifying question. “Ros? Oh, no, no! By the pits of the underworld, no!”

Relief flooded me, but I hid any signs of it. At least, I hoped I did.