Page 8 of Keldori By Daybreak

“Not you,” he agreed.

“Can you tell it to me?” I asked. “You know mine. It only seems fair.”

“Everyone knows yours,” Ciarán chuckled. “And our names are secrets reserved for marriage. Seeing as that isn’t an option for a Saergrim and a Grimguard, no, Wren. I will not be telling you my name.”

“Right.” Heat burned in my cheeks.

Jonquil jumped from his lap as Ciarán stood and stretched.

“Sleep,” he said. “If your Gams really does want us seeking out a Lyrian, then you’ve got work to do in the evening.”

I watched the silhouette of his back all the way to the hallway to make sure he left my room. His orange eyes swept over me one last time as he shut the door behind him.

I waited for the sound of footsteps retreating back to Ciarán’s own room, but silence buzzed in my ears.

“Are you really going to sleep right outside my door?” I hissed.

Ciarán’s reply sounded directly inside my head. “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, Blue. Now sleep.”

3. Weapons Engineering

The trees of the forest, coated in fresh snow and glowing silver in the light of the two moons, reminded me more of ghosts than of woods. This was all probably for the better, as forests made me nervous, and after the summer I’d had, ghosts didn’t seem all that frightening of a concept anymore.

With the new threat of volcanic eruption, Sorcha had finally allowed my Skalmagick training to commence, despite my lingering injuries. The night was clear, interrupted only by Gams’s storm on the horizon, so I hiked into the forest with my two Grimguards where the tree cover would hide the glow of our magick better than the windy mountainside of our hideout.

Orla had insisted on tagging along, and I leaned against her for most of the trek to the clearing where the two Grimguards would start my training. Not that long ago, Orla and I had been fighting those very same Grimguards. One of them had put an arrow through Orla’s chest. The other was Ciarán.

Needless to say, I wasn’t keen to trust either of them, and the force of Sabrina’s attacks was proving that to be a good instinct. She seemed to take a special joy in blasting me off my feet, and despite the hours of training we’d already put in by midnight, I was still unable to create anything out of Skal that wasn’t a flail. And flails, it turned out, made terrible shields.

“You hit her too hard again!” Orla fussed somewhere overhead.

I tried to will movement into my limbs to put Orla’s fretting at ease, but the cool touch of the ice permeating my leather chest armor was too inviting and something in my flank had definitely cracked with that last hit.

Besides, Sabrina wouldn’t hit me again if I stayed down. Probably. I wasn’t actually sure. As a Grimguard, she’d sworn fealty to my family, but the version of her I’d known in Keel Watch Harbor had been proud, a tad haughty, and definitely liable to strike me while I was splayed out on the ground.

“If hitting her hard is what it takes to get her to learn how to form a shield, then I’m going to keep hitting her hard.” Sabrina’s dark leather armor stood out against the moonlit snow, and her pale face blurred in my vision.

“She’s injured,” Orla reminded her.

“All the more reason for her to learn how to form a shield.” Magick sparked in Sabrina’s hands, and I tried to blink my eyes back into focus. It was hard, though, looking through the cracked lenses of Orla’s borrowed goggles.

“Ciarán?” Orla prodded for back-up, and a heavy sigh replied.

“Lady Quill is right, Sabrina.” Ciarán sounded bored. “It won’t do us any good if the little Saergrim is too battered to walk south on her own.”

“Little Saergrim?” I seethed at Ciarán, finally forcing myself to my knees.

Ciarán leaned against a snow-laden tree at the edge of our clearing with his black cowl pulled up over his mouth and nose.

“Would you prefer Saergrim Minor?” Ciarán’s quip sounded directly inside my head.

I balled my hands into fists in the snow. I’d prefer if he turned around and faced the tree.

“Is that an order?”

“You said you couldn’t hear my thoughts!” I snarled out loud.

Ciarán shrugged. “I heard that one.”