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This was where they went when they talked about training. There were men everywhere, using bows and arrows, sword fighting, fighting with only their bodies. There were horses in a stall nearby, and she noted that there was a long line of seating booths. They must have held events here though she could not imagine what.
Sophie didn’t slow down her step and instead pulled Wren along with her. They made their way to where a large group of men stood surrounding something. The smell of sweat was thick in the air. A couple of men looked at Sophie and Wren curiously, but went back to their business.
Suddenly, Wren heard the clash of swords and realized they were coming from beyond the circle of men. Sophie pushed through, not bothering to apologize and continued to pull Wren with her.
Wren did not know what she had been expecting, but when she moved past the men she saw Malaki with a sword fighting another man. His dark hair was pulled back into a small bun on top of his head and his face was hard in concentration, sweat pouring down his face.
She continued her study of him and her eyes lingered on the hard muscles of his stomach that glistened with sweat. It was as if he was in another world, and the only thing that mattered was this fight. His opponent fought to keep up with him and it seemed as if Malaki was going to disarm him when they turned and his eyes met hers.
He paused for just a moment, but it was too long, and the other swordsman grazed his arm, blood beginning to seep from the wound.
The swordsman stopped, stammering, “Malaki, I am sorry, you were moving so fast, I did not realize—”
Malaki only put his uninjured hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Bryson, I asked you to fight as if your life depended on it, didn’t I?”
The other man nodded, but his face was drawn with concern.
“You did well, my friend. Thank you for being a worthy opponent.”
The man called Bryson bowed and clasped his hand with Malaki’s.
“The show is over, back to work!” called Malaki and the crowd dispersed. He walked towards Wren, wiping his face with a towel, and all she could do was stare at him, trying to force her gaze to his face, but his blue eyes pierced hers, searching for something.
When he was close to them, he never pulled his eyes from Wren and she felt as if she might die under his scrutiny. She was suddenly acutely aware of his body and his presence.
“Kai, we need to talk.” Sophie’s voice dragged his gaze from Wren’s, and she released the breath she had been holding.
Whatever he saw in her gaze convinced him not to ask any more questions. He began walking towards the castle and Sophie and Wren only followed trying to keep up with his quick steps.
Wren oddly wondered if he often walked around the castle without his shirt and she just hadn’t noticed it before. Noticing a couple of maids gazing admirably at him she thought perhaps this was a rare instance. When they got to her rooms, she made to stop, but he kept going down an adjacent hallway, and Sophie stopped briefly to pull her along. Wren's heart raced as realization dawned on her that they were going to his rooms.
Her stomach rolled and she pressed a hand against it, trying to steady herself. When they entered, she noticed that it was oddly similar to her own room, except, where she could see into his bedroom, there was a desk with papers strewn about it and all over the floor. She thought she saw a chair on the ground, but would have had to step on her tiptoes to peer in.
Malaki was at his wardrobe, pulling out a shirt and throwing it over his head. At least now he was less distracting. He moved back into the sitting room and stared at her. “What is it?”
Wren found herself stammering, unsure where to start, how to tell him when she didn’t even remember last night.
Wren was forever grateful for Sophie who said, “She doesn’t remember last night.”
Before he could give voice to his skepticism, Sophie grasped her wrist and held it out to him, bearing the strange mark. He moved towards her and made to grab her arm, but paused.
“May I?” The question was soft and full of hesitancy.
Wren nodded, swallowing hard. In one hand he held her arm and the other he ran his finger across the mark on her wrist sending a chill up her body. His brows furrowed as he studied it.
“When did you notice this?”
“This morning.” Her voice was a whisper.
His eyes searched hers. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” His voice was equally quiet, and she thought she heard anxiety lacing his words.
“I remember having a dream about something.” She sighed, attempting to release some of the frustration from her body. “I lost something in it. I don’t remember anything else.”
He nodded as if he understood, and she realized that he hadn’t let go of her arm and his finger still lay across her wrist. She looked up and noticed the red seeping through his white shirt.
“Oh, you’re bleeding!” Wren quietly exclaimed.
He dragged his eyes away from hers to where his shirt was soaked through.
