A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,143

even the way she walked was irritating Riv.

‘It’s about discipline, self-control, focus,’ Jin said as she rode past them. She looked down and met Riv’s eyes flatly. ‘Something you’d know very little about.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Riv said, a seam of anger heating in her veins. She felt Jost’s hand upon her arm, heard his voice. Ignored it.

‘You know exactly what it means,’ Jin said. ‘I saw your warrior trial. You have no discipline, no control.’ She snorted a laugh. ‘What kind of warrior are you? The answer is: none at all. I doubt you will ever pass your warrior trial, will always be wishing, hoping, dreaming. As you dream of other things.’

Riv opened her mouth, but only a strangled hiss came out.

‘I see the way you look at my betrothed. Bleda is mine. Betrothed to me. We shall rule Arcona together, while you are still polishing warriors’ boots and dreaming of being one.’

Jin kicked her horse on. Riv snarled, clenching her fists, and started after her. Jost was hanging on to her, pleading for her to calm down, to see sense, though she was dragging him across the grass. But the anger had total control again, was putting a fire in her limbs and, even as she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, should be mastering her emotions, she couldn’t. Part of her didn’t even want to try, there was something bittersweet about the surrender, relinquishing the need to think, instead just doing.

A great gust of wind, and a Ben-Elim was alighting between Riv and the shrinking backside of Jin and her horse.

It was Kol, all gleaming mail, golden hair and white teeth.

‘Here,’ he said, throwing something through the air at Riv.

Instinctively she caught it, a practice sword. She looked up and saw Kol coming at her with a weapon raised high, whistling towards her head. Without thinking, she blocked it, rotated her wrist and shoulder, sending it wide, knocking her opponent off balance, and she was swinging her blade at him, all the rage she’d felt a moment ago still there, coursing through her, just focused on something else now. With a savage fury she attacked Kol, chopping, stabbing, lunging, feinting, stabbing again. Her blade connected more times than she missed, hard blows that would leave a tale of bruises, Kol grunting with the pain of them, though he kept grinning the whole time.

‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ he whispered as she lunged in close, seeking to skewer him, but he stepped to one side, their bodies crashing together.

‘What does?’ she snarled up at him.

‘Letting go,’ he breathed, pushed her with his empty hand and swept his wooden blade at her neck, a blow that would have decapitated her if it were sharp steel.

If it touched me.

Riv ducked, spun away, set her feet.

Kol followed her, their battle resuming, a blur of blows. He landed a few of his own strikes, though with less power than Riv, just letting her know that he could. She shrugged them off, attacking like a force of nature, swirling around Kol, sweat stinging her eyes.

Dimly, Riv became aware of a circle forming around them: Ben-Elim, white-feathered wings and mail shirts bright in the winter sun. She ignored them, continued to batter, spin and hack at Kol, surrendering totally to the emotion that was coursing through her, allowing her anger to have free rein, like a stallion galloping freely, and for a while her anger led her and she allowed her body to follow blindly.

Eventually the red mist began to fade, and she saw an opening against Kol, swung low, her blade catching him in the ankles, and then he was falling, Riv ready to step in and put her blade to his throat, but he did not end up on the ground, instead with a pulse of his wings he was rising, turning in the air, suddenly behind her as she stepped forwards, off balance. His sword blade pressed against her throat, his other hand about her waist, body pressed tight against her back.

‘I win,’ he whispered in her ear, so close Riv wasn’t sure if it was the touch of his breath or lips upon her neck. Whichever one it was it made her skin gooseflesh, a shudder of warmth rippling through her body. Then Kol was stepping away, leaving her standing there, breathing heavily, heart thumping in her head like a drum.

She became aware of the Ben-Elim ringed around her, fifty, sixty of them, maybe more, recognized many of them as