what I just told him to do. The handle of a new mace pops into place in his palm, and Becket stares down at it with a smile that calls to my own.
“Not such a shitty outdated weapon after all?” I tease, and Becket shakes his head.
“Outdated for sure, but there is a certain level of kickass warrior you can’t help but feel when you use it,” Becket admits, and this time I do crack a grin.
“It does have a certain je ne sais quoi, doesn’t it?” I admit as I push myself up from the ground and stand up. I steady myself on the wall and wait for the dizziness to subside before stepping toward the middle of the cell. “My turn,” I announce.
“You just woke up an hour ago. I think you should sit this one out,” he advises, his eyes filled with concern as I move slowly into a defensive position in front of him.
“No holding back this time,” I warn him. “No one else out there is going to pull their punches, so I can’t afford for you to do it either.”
“You’ve passed out three times already. I could fucking blow on you too hard at this point and you’d probably fall over. I’m not pulling punches so much as refusing to beat on a defenseless, stubborn idiot. Seriously, sit down. You can help me with my form some more; my shots are still drifting just slightly to the right.”
“Stop babying me,” I growl, and Becket laughs.
“First of all, you sound like a grumpy kitten when you do that, and second of all, we’ve been doing this for hours. You need a break. What if Adriel comes to get us right now? How are you going to hold your own if you get any weaker?”
“I’ll show you grumpy kitten…scratch your fucking eyes out, and then we’ll see what’s what,” I mumble as I move to sit back down.
Metal clangs outside of the cell, and it’s as if Becket just spoke our retrieval into existence. Footsteps sound on the other side of our door, and it’s unlocked and pushed open. Becket and I tense while the hinges of the heavy metal door squeal in protest. Siah steps into the cell, and his eyebrows immediately furrow with confusion as he takes in the state of the space. Nicks and gouges decorate the wall from where Becket’s been working on his mace skills. Slivers of rock litter the floor, and Becket and I are both covered in a thin layer of dust.
Siah runs his gaze over me and lets out an exasperated huff. “Why do you look like you’re on the verge of passing out?” he queries.
Becket snorts. “Because she is.”
Siah looks around the room for the canteen, and his gaze narrows when he finds it in the corner. We used it as target practice, and it’s been beat to shit by Becket’s arrows and is now sporting several holes.
“Did you not drink it?” Siah asks, his ice-blue eyes moving from the swiss cheese looking canteen to mine.
“I drank it. I’ve just been doing some training,” I offer with a shrug that takes entirely too much effort for me to complete.
Siah runs his hands through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t bring anymore. I didn’t think she’d need it,” he speaks to someone behind him.
I catch a flash of golden hair before Siah moves further into the cell to make way for Sorik. Relief swims through me when he walks into the room, but I quickly dowse it in wariness and mistrust.
“Did you attack my Chosen?” I accuse, and Sorik looks offended by the question.
“Of course not, that’s just where we told Adriel I would be to cover what I was really doing,” he tells me matter-of-factly as he takes me in. “We’re not going to get very far with her like this. You’ll have to feed her directly,” Sorik tells Siah, and his features are apologetic.
Siah hesitates for a second and then rolls up the sleeve of his navy blue sweater. He walks over to me and crouches down in front of where I’ve wedged myself in the corner. His pale blue eyes soften when they meet mine, and then a red sheen takes over his irises, and his left hand elongates with claws. His right arm is stretched out to me, and he moves to slash at his wrist.
“Wait,” I call out confused. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Feeding you,” he states casually, and then he opens his