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“Oh, that does it!” I pretended to get pissed, marching towards him while pushing up my sleeves. “Get your ass over there, and prepare for it to be pounded, hard.”
Asher arched a challenging brow at me, taken aback by my statement, while everyone else kind of choked.
“Kick! I meant to kick!” I blurted, mortified. “Okay, bad choice of words. Really bad choice of words. I regretted it the second I said it, but you know what I meant.”
Laughter erupted from the others, and part of me thought Elijah and Harrison might actually pee themselves. They were mocking me so hard. Rolling my eyes, I walked back, scowling at Asher.
Highly amused, like he was indulging a bratty child, Asher stood in the middle of the circle—fashioned by cream stones along the Elevated Warriors’ training garden.
“Come at me, Bro! Come at me.” I taunted, my sword in hand, slowly circling the commander who had become my friend in the short time I’d been with the guard. Fletcher, Arlo, and Flinn snickered—they were getting used to my “odd” way of speaking.
The bastard sighed without a worry in the world. His gaze fell to his left hand, and he began to inspect his nails as though they contained the secrets of the universe. I wasn’t stupid, I knew he wanted me to land the first blow; I had seen him fight with Kingston in the demonstrations held for me, and I’ve already gotten a sense of his style. Asher liked playing with the adversary's mind, letting them think that they had the upper hand, and then, bam! He had them for breakfast.
“What? You chicken?” I threw the insult at him, slowly making my way around him.
“Why would I be an animal, and what does that have to do with fighting you?” he asked confused, though he didn’t bother to turn and face me.
I sighed. “No, you are not a literal chicken, you are just—ugh, forget it. You are terrible at smack talk.”
Sometimes I felt like all the others did was laugh at everything I said…
“Maybe you should close your eyes,” Elijah suggested to his commander. “Then Brax will finally have an advantage over you.” Mocking me, he winked.
“See? That’s a perfect example of smack talk!” I threw my arms in the air. “Get it together, Asher.”
Elijah chuckled, pulling Harper to him. Her back pressed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin over her shoulder. She naturally leaned into him, letting him hold her. I’d learned that they had been together for a year, so she was used to his affectionate gestures in public.
The sight distracted me for a second, wishing that everyone knew about Evie and me so we could be together—out in the open like Harper and Elijah, instead of hiding each night.
Harper’s lips twitched in amusement, but she had the decency not to laugh at me. “Don’t listen to them, Brax. You can do this.” After her vote of confidence, she continued to munch on a handful of mixed seeds.
“Thanks,” I snorted, but soon began to scowl when Asher’s eyes actually closed. “Oh, you are such an asshole.”
He grinned.
“You pound that ass, Braxton!” Fletcher shouted, and I grunted. I was never going to live that down. Stupid words.
Penelope, Harrison, and Islay chuckled, while Hanna just shook her head, continuing to polish the curved blade of her spear. That weapon was her one true love. Frowning, I decided to focus on my adversary, and took two more steps, finally finding a strategy I thought would work.
“Watch your back…” Harper warned the instant I lifted my arm.
My back? Asher was in front—the metal handle of his spear slammed against my spine the next second, and I stumbled forward from the force, falling to my knees. I had barely registered the action when his weapon pressed against my neck, lifting my chin as he locked me in place. The bastard’s eyes were still closed.
“When the fuck did you move?” I croaked.
Applause and shouts of excitement erupted around us, and I watched Asher’s eyes reopen—his eyebrows wiggling at me. I swore the man was a freaking ghost sometimes—he blurred through his movements similarly to how Kingston did. I wanted to learn to do that so badly. Twirling the spear behind him, he walked to the front, offering me a hand.
I took it—glaring at him. “No need to say I told you so,” I huffed.
His lips quivered, but he shook his head. “You have worked really hard so far, Brax, and it shows. But there is one thing you keep forgetting.”
“What?” I frowned, feeling him place a hand on my shoulder.
“You can’t rush this. Learning to fight like we do it’s a process, and I’ve only been training you for a bit over three weeks. This is more than just learning to use a weapon, or mastering attack combinations. You are essentially teaching your body new reflexes that go against your natural instincts, reactions that contradict anything you have felt for the past eighteen years. You are retraining your senses. It takes time, and the more you accept that, the easier it will come to you.”
Training against my nature…The phrase resonated with me. Just, what exactly was my nature?
Letting out a resigned sigh, I nodded. Asher was right. “I just want to prove myself to you guys, to Kingston. I want you to know that—”
