Page 45 of If I Were Wind

14. Flames

WEEKS PASSED AFTER the key incident. Weeks during which Roy avoided me politely, and guards searched every inch of the manor without finding anything suspicious. I kept working with Nathan, merging and sparring, but with little progress. He was growing frustrated by my poor attempts at fighting, my clumsy falls, and my weak punches, his manner no longer so sweet.

Taking advantage of a fine day, we’d been practising for a couple of hours that morning with Bruce and Michael in the park, and I’d fallen seven times, hurt Nathan twice by mistake, and almost got fried by the electric fence protecting the mill by slamming against it. Not my proudest moment. While merging with Nathan was rather easy, coordinating our movements was not. It was as if my beast refused to cooperate, as if she said, ‘the chap is cute, but can we merge with Roy now?’ Well, we couldn’t.

We were lying on the recently sprouted grass in the manor’s field where we’d been sparring with Bruce and Michael every day. Nathan had thought that my beast might have preferred sparring outside rather than in the training hall. But I believed that he didn’t want to meet Roy again. I agreed in a way. Provoking him was something I’d sworn to never do. The grass and the outdoors hadn’t made any difference, aside from the fact that the grass was softer than the wooden floorboards of the training hall when I fell and hit the ground.

“You have to follow my movements, Kristin,” Nathan said, after we split for the fourth time in a row. A hint of anger slipped into his voice. “You can injure yourself if you don’t follow me. Or injure me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“It takes time,” Bruce said, stretching his long legs, blond hair catching the sunlight.

“I’m not sure.” Michael shook his head. “It didn’t take us long to find a good balance and coordination. Two days, if I remember well. I think Nathan and Kristin aren’t so compatible after all. They can’t coordinate their beast. Their merging is fine, but that’s it.”

“Or maybe it’s me.” With a huff, I brushed off a tendril of hair that had fallen over my eyes. “I’m hopeless when it comes to fighting.”

“I’m surprised by how little Roy taught you.” Nathan waved a dismissive hand. “The condottiero didn’t do a good job, did he?”

Gritting my teeth, I sank my claws into the soft ground. “He did a great job. We didn’t have time to practise fighting.”

Nathan gave a harsh squint. “Because you two were too busy shagging each other.”

I lunged. For the first time, I wanted to throw punches. Fangs unsheathed, I pounced on him, but Bruce stopped me. “Calm down, Kristin.”

Michael stood up, angling himself towards Nathan.

Laugh lines creased Nathan’s eyes. “That’s it. You can fight.” He laughed and held up his hands. “Apologies, Kristin. I wanted to provoke you to see how you’d react.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “Right. Why don’t we relax for a few minutes?” He let me go, and I dropped onto the grass, wondering if Nathan had been joking.

Whatever. I breathed hard, pushing my beast down.

Sweat dampened my shirt, and my muscles burned after the effort of the fight and from controlling my anger. Lord, if Roy was fighting for control all the time, I couldn’t blame him for his temper. Behind us, the electric fence of the mill buzzed, a reminder of my mistakes. The early spring sun was warm enough to make me boil, but the chilly breeze was still clinging to winter.

Bruce crossed his legs and stared at Nathan. “Kristin should practise without being merged with you first. Shadow punches, kicks, parries. Know the basics.”

“The best level of coordination is reached when two partners learn to spar together,” Nathan said. His tone sounded bitter and arrogant, and my beast stirred again.

Blimey. I stretched on the grass. On the one hand, I didn’t want to change partners and start the whole process again. On the other, it was obvious that my beast didn’t feel any special affinity for Nathan, so what was the point of continuing to try? When I’d promised myself to move on after Roy, I hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to completely forget about him and try to merge with Nathan. A stubborn part of me fought against the merging and any intimacy with him, and I wasn’t sure how to force myself to accept him. Or if I should do it.

“Don’t be discouraged, Kristin,” Bruce said. “You’ll learn to spar. Everyone does.”

“We’ve been sparring for weeks. All winter.” I groaned. “I’m not cut out for sparring. I must be the worst beast fighter in history.”

“Shut it.” Bruce touched my foot with his. “It sounds like you’re showing off.”

Michael burst out laughing while sipping from a bottle, spraying water on the grass. Instead, Nathan was shuffling his feet, jaw contracting.

The laugh I released was cut off by a deafening blast that ripped through the field. My ears popped, as if I were on an aeroplane. Ripples of shockwaves shook the ground as another detonation thundered. Orange flashed across my vision from somewhere. The world turned into a scorching red ball.

A blast of air shoved me a few feet away while debris and dust rained around me. There was a metallic clangour that rang from the fence, the metal tie wire and tension bars bending and cracking. A buzzing noise hissed in my ears, and my head spun. I couldn’t understand if I was hurt or bleeding, but my body was in pain. I blinked in confusion, stretching out my arms and trying to see through the curtain of dust that irritated my eyes. Someone touched my arm. Voices sounded around me, distant and muffled. I staggered to my feet, nausea roiling my stomach, but a hand pulled me down.

“Kristin.” Michael’s face sharpened in front of me. He sounded like he was talking through water. “Are you okay?” Blood was oozing from a cut on his forehead, and his tone was all wrong, groggy and stammering. Or maybe my ears were still ringing.

Head spinning, I leaned against him, waiting for my head to clear. When the world stopped reeling, and the whistling in my ears ceased, I wiped the dust from my face with a quivering hand.

“Are you all right?” Michael asked again, holding me up with one arm. His voice was normal.

“I think so. What happened?” I coughed.

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