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“Fine,” he said, a cool smile gracing his thin lips. “If I don’t end her first.”

35

The Weapons Training

Dawn came before she knew it. And strangely, the now six-mile run felt more invigorating than she remembered. She still didn’t exactly enjoy it, but by the end, she felt renewed, like she’d really accomplished something.

She downed the waterskin once they were back to the mountain. Her legs felt like jelly, and her heart was still racing.

“That was your fastest time,” Fordham said, taking a sip from his own waterskin.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think you’re ready for weapons.”

She straightened. “Seriously?”

“After what you did in Clare’s headquarters,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

She ducked her chin. They hadn’t talked about what had happened when they escaped that place. She didn’t know what to say. Well, mostly, she’d taken her anger about it out on Dozan.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that was?”

Kerrigan shrugged. “I don’t know what it was.”

“Our magic was dampened by whatever drug Clare had used, and somehow, you managed to knock out everyone in that house. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

She sighed. “Yes. Once before. I don’t know what it is. Some kind of energy blast? Some defense mechanism that my body produces when I’m in danger? I’m honestly not sure.”

“Were you in danger last time it happened?”

“I was… well, I almost died in the protests five years ago.”

“Protests?” he asked in confusion.

She forgot sometimes that he wasn’t from here. “Five years ago, a human won the dragon tournament.”

“Cyrene,” he said simply. “I met her.”

She startled. “You did?”

“Yes, she came through the House of Shadows in the final tournament.”

“Oh, right,” she said, remembering that. “Anyway, after she won, the Red Masks rose into power quickly. They rioted. They burned churches. They sent their minions into the streets to kill humans and half-Fae and sympathizers. It was a bleak time. And I was out one night and attacked by Red Masks. I kind of… exploded, like I did the other night.”

“Hmm,” Fordham said thoughtfully. “It sounds like you need someone to train you in this ability.”

“How can someone train me if I don’t even know what it is? And how would I find someone to even help?”

He considered it for a minute. “Let me think on it. That power is dangerous. You need to be able to control it.”

“Like your black smoke?” she asked carefully.

He sent her an appraising look. “Yes. Just so.”

“Are you ever going to tell me about what it actually does?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a sly smirk. “But for the time being, we’re going to need to find a place to weapons train where the other competitors can’t find us.”

Kerrigan huffed that he wouldn’t tell her about the smoke. But eventually gave up. He’d tell her in his own time. “Actually, I know just the place.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she locked the door to the House of Dragons training room. “This work?”

“Yeah. This is perfect. What is this?”

“It’s for the House of Dragons. I spent a lot of time in here for weapons training, but the Dragon Blessed get this month off studies for the tournament. So, we won’t be disturbed.”

It made her heart ache even just bringing him here. This wasn’t her life anymore. And even though she’d had so many good memories in this room, they were all tainted in sadness now. At least she had sent off letters to Darby and Hadrian like she had promised Clover she would do. They deserved to know what she did about Lyam’s murder.

Fordham shucked his cloak off and slung it on a hook at the wall. He walked the length of the weapons trove, testing the weight of a few of the swords before putting them back. Then, he withdrew two practice swords and tossed one to her.

“Not even with steel?” She pouted.

“In battle,” he began, ignoring her question, “there are only two options: kill or be killed. There is no point where you can decide to spare your enemy. That will only lead to retaliation and your eventual death.”

He brought his sword up and began to step through paces. She nodded and matched him. Right foot, then left. Side to side. Back and forth. An easy, gentle movement that she was familiar with.

“You spared Valero.”

He held his wooden sword low, swooping gracefully through the next movement. “He’s out of the tournament. That was the point of the challenge.”

“So, I have to learn to destroy my mercy?” she asked, mirroring him.

“You must learn to do the opposite of what your opponent expects. The best thing to do would be to learn your enemy, know them better than they know themselves, and exploit their weaknesses.”

Fordham lunged forward. She gasped and took a step back, bringing her sword up and barely blocking him. But he was lightning fast, and he’d feinted. The length of his sword slapped hard against her ribs. She doubled over and coughed.

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