The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(26)

The corners of his eyes crinkled. She decided to take that as a smile.

“Do you want to practice something for close combat or distance?” he asked, his eyes grazing over the bruises Teague’s men had left on her upper arms.

“Both,” she said. “And you never told me your name. If we’re going to be friends, I need to know what to call you.”

“Friends?” He stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted another head.

“Well, of course. We’re going to be spending hours together each day until I master some weapons. And while I’m very smart and capable, I will admit that coordination is sometimes a problem for me, which means it might take more than a few sessions to feel like I can carry a weapon without cutting off my own arm by accident. And if I’m going to be spending hours every day with you, then we’re going to be friends, because the alternative is too exhausting to contemplate.”

Especially when she already had enough on her plate. She had a brother to worry about, a best friend with a black eye, and a fae monster who needed killing. She wasn’t going to add “awkward daily sessions with the weapons master” to the list.

“Do you always talk this much?” he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.

“Do you always talk this little?”

His eyes crinkled again.

Yes. Definitely a smile.

“I’m Sebastian,” he said.

She gave him a wide, generous smile. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Sebastian. Now, where do we begin?”

They turned to the long table full of weapons that had been placed for the nobility to use. The iron weapons were set off by themselves, but Ari couldn’t resist running her hand over the shiny surface of a thin, curved blade with a delicately woven handle in silver and gold. Her fingers slid against the edge, and a quick bite of pain hit as the blade nicked her skin.

“Ouch.” She pulled her hand away, and blood welled on her fingertip. “The blade is sharp.”

He gave her a look that clearly said, “Were you expecting a sword to be dull?”

“This proves my point, you know.” She looked around for a cloth to dab against her finger, and he fished a clean rag from his pocket and handed it to her, careful not to let their fingers touch. She’d seen his discomfort when he’d briefly taken her hand at their first meeting. Was he unwilling to touch anyone, or was his reluctance specific to her?

She bent her neck and did a surreptitious sniff test.

She smelled like peaches and pastry dough. If he had issues with that, there was nothing she could do for him.

“What point?” he asked.

“I will need a lot of training before I’ll be ready to carry a weapon. Which would you suggest I learn to use?”

He ran his eyes over her body as though cataloging her center of balance.

“For long range, I made an iron throwing star. It’s thin and as light as I could get it.” Sebastian said. “For close combat, you can keep a dagger strapped to your hip or your ankle, but you’re going to have to learn to be the weapon in case you’re disarmed at short range.”

“Oh stars, we’re in trouble.”

“You already said you use your brain and your fists.”

“I also said that coordination is often a problem for me.”

“If you train hard enough, your muscles will remember what to do. It will be second nature.” He sounded resolute. “Besides, I saw you yesterday. You’re fierce and determined. Once I show you how to put some power behind your punches, you’re going to be formidable.”

“You’re serious about this?” She glanced down at herself and then back up at him. “You’re going to teach me how to win a fistfight against a grown man?”

He met her gaze, his eyes glowing with purpose. “I’m going to teach you how to stop him before it ever gets to that. But first, let’s start with the throwing star.”

He picked up the iron star and handed it to her. It was heavier than she’d expected, but the weight felt evenly balanced.

“You can carry this with you in one of those wrist bags girls like to wear.”

Ari twisted the star so that the light from the row of windows surrounding the upper deck of the arena gleamed dully against its surface. “If you’d told me last week that I’d be willing to smuggle a weapon in my handbag instead of snacks, I’d have called you crazy.”

He blinked. “You smuggle snacks in your handbag?”

“Sometimes the situation calls for it.”

His eyes crinkled again, and Ari grinned as she hefted the star. “So you want me to throw this?”

“I’ll teach you how.”

“I might put out your eye.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

She closed her fingers over the star and turned to look him in the face. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for yesterday too.”

“You’re welcome.” He gestured toward the center of the arena. “Now let’s go see if you really can put out my eye.”

Forty minutes later, Ari had yet to hit the target. She stood in the center of the arena facing both a bale of hay and Sebastian, who’d given up trying to demonstrate proper throwing technique in favor of standing to the side so he could evaluate her stance or her grip or whatever it was she was doing wrong.