have yet to respond to his kind and thorough words.
“Thank you for your feedback, Lord Raske,” I reply, still forcing myself to keep eye contact.
The conversation starts up again at the small table near the exit. I give a short nod and pivot in one swift motion to leave the stifling tent, my boots digging into the dirt as I forcefully turn.
“Meet me tomorrow morning at dawn, Fiercely.” Declan’s voice is heard from behind me, my last name is said in a quiet breath and I pause to look at him. To really look at him for the first time since I arrived almost a year ago. His fingers tap soundlessly on the polished wooden table and he doesn’t look up at me as he speaks. “There will be no more sleeping in for you. I’ll drop our training in an instant if you prove to waste my time.” His voice is strong and commanding. The opposite of the charming and flirty tone I’m used to hearing from him.
It’s so different, I’m shocked at his proposal. I give him another short nod, closing my gaping mouth. His gaze holds mine for a few seconds, showing a lifetime of anger behind beautiful silver eyes.
Three
The Attack
I climb down the rope from my bunk that hides high up in the trees. The tree bunks are for the Wanderers that want their own space, away from the endless celebrations and congested community of huts. The strange sleeping bunk is now the solitary place that I call my home.
The rough rope is still damp with morning dew and I struggle to make it safely to the ground as my boots slip, my muscles straining for support. My fingers ache from the amount of pressure I’m putting on them to hold tightly as I make my way to the forest floor.
The coloring of the sky is balancing in that struggling state between darkness and light. Water paint colors streak the heavens, slipping calm into my messy mind from the very sight of it. The moon is just starting to fade away to make room for the rising sun but it can still be seen if you look hard enough.
Through the soundless trees and past the now empty grounds where last night’s celebration was held, not a footprint is left behind to trace the event. But that is the way of the Wanderers. Even the tree pallets within the forest are hidden from view. Humans occasionally come through looking for food or a lost child but no one ever discovers the secret community that’s shrouded in invisibility magic. But it’s there. It exists. We exist.
The training circle welcomes my quiet steps, an area just within the trees where the brush has been cleared and manicured. Luca and I have practiced here every day for nearly a year. I wonder how different Declan will be. I wonder if I’ll keep my temper long enough to learn something from the hybrid. I can keep my hatred for him separate from my training. At least for a month. Two weeks tops... Maybe we’ll just see how today goes first.
I stretch my arms above my head, the weight of the Crimson Sword bumping familiarly against my thigh, as the sun starts to make its appearance on the horizon. I glance around the large clearing, the mounds of tangled brush that have been pushed to the sidelines of the makeshift training area, and listen for any approaching footsteps. The forest is a fortress of silence as if not even the wildlife is ready to climb out of bed. I roll my eyes at Declan’s tardiness. How very like him to be late on our first day after mocking me about sleeping in.
A long and tired sigh drifts over my lips and I’m just turning to pace the length of the clearing when a weight falls from the trees above, landing jarringly on my shoulders and I’m pushed to the ground face first. My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I struggle against strong arms as my wrists are jerked painfully back and held in one hand. My assailant leans his weight onto his other arm next to my head.
I’m still struggling against the person with no success when Declan’s gray eyes meet mine. I grow still beneath him and attempt to blow a leaf and my tangled hair out of my face to look at him through a glare.
“Raske is right. You’re not ready, love,” he whispers to me through my