Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(41)
Okay, so work out, then shower.
I fingered through the basket of toiletries Jonash had provided and did my best impression of ready for my day. Not for the first time I wondered about Rowan. How had it gone with the Queen? Did he come back here last night or stay at the swordsmith shop? Terran said he’d lived there since his family was destroyed. Or, maybe he was still at the palace.
My empty stomach wriggled. Gods that would be seven hours with her. Seven hours of Rowan being her plaything. Against my will, I wondered what a session with Mommy Dearest would entail.
I shook my head. Maybe that’s not how things had gone down at all. We were playing a very dangerous game, he and I. If the Queen knew Rowan wasn’t towing the line, Elani would pay the price as Tham had.
A burst of heated fury burned through my veins. What was going on here?
I thought about what the Queen’s end game could be as I pulled on my leathers and tied my empty sheath to my thigh. The woman had dominion over Attalos, was cultivating an army and her breeding program was well under way infiltrating the Nine Houses of the Nobles. One last glance at Coal sleeping and I retrieved my knife from under my pillow.
So, what did she want?
Boots in hand, I backed out of the room, eased the door closed and held the latch so it made only the softest tink as it fell into place. As I stepped back, my foot caught.
“What the—Terran?” I stumbled backward, crashing into the opposite wall. My Jimmy Choo’s flew, my skull rattled, and I ended up sprawled on my ass on the plush hall runner.
“Oh! Princess,” Terran tried to catch me but managed only to rescue an airborne boot. “Are you all right?”
I looked up at the horror on his face and burst out laughing. “Turnabout is fair play. I guess you owed me that.” Gods had that been just two days ago? Or was it three now? “Thanks for not punching me in the face.”
I rubbed the back of my head where I’d connected with the wall and he offered a hand to pull me to my feet. In the aftermath of our collision it dawned on me. “Why are you camped out in the hall? I sent you to bed last night.”
Terran shrugged. “I heard you cry out a few hours ago and raced into the hall. When I was about to burst in, you assured Coal it was just a bad dream.”
“So, you decided to camp out?”
He picked up my boots and handed them back, his sage green gaze despondent. “But I fell asleep in the doorway. I apologize. I am not the best private guard.”
“Ah, no biggie. Besides, you’re better than you think. It’s not too often I end up ass-planted because someone caught me by surprise. You get props for that.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In the light of day, Rowan’s backyard was a pocket of natural seclusion like nothing I’d seen or smelled in the city of Attalos. The security walls, obscured behind ivy, tropical plants, and the soft drooping branches of fig trees, cast the illusion of there being no walls at all. Birds sang an endless melody, hidden amongst fragrant blooms of flowers and fruit, and perched on the edges of the fountain which was now full and trickling the same champagne colored water as the atrium. But the most important feature to me was the lawn. Manicured and even, it stretched on for the length of the practice field back home. Perfect.
The workout was brutal. After wind sprints, weight training and showing Ydorus, Eury, and Terran a few key gymnastic techniques, they took turns sparring with me. It didn’t take long before they realized one-on-one wasn’t going to get them anywhere so they ganged up, which was exactly when things got entertaining.
“Hits are fast, grabs are slow, boys.” I shoveled a forkful of breakfast casserole into my mouth and chased it down with a tumbler of juice. “You can wrist grab or arm bar any time in your counter – before, during, or after your hits. It’s a basic fact. Keep your opponent on his toes, make him anticipate, and then take him off guard.”
Ydorus sat at the kitchen table icing his shoulder while Leda—Rowan’s middle-aged, rosy cheeked housekeeper—piled a mountain of carbs on his plate. He nodded his thanks. “There is no pattern to the way you fight, Princess. No one could anticipate what you’re going to do. You’re mad.”
I laughed and pointed to the basket of biscuits. “Sometimes preserving your life comes down to one insane move. When the enemy can predict your intentions, you’re in deep shit.”
Terran snorted and, after piling three biscuits on his plate, passed it across to me. “So, predict what our opponent is going to do, but remain unpredictable ourselves?”
“Exactly. Annnnd if you can look good doing it, all the better.” I snagged a couple of biscuits for myself and passed the basket on. “Terran, we need to get you some better gear. This chamber guard uniform bites in battle.”
“Probably because duty guards patrol halls and check window locks at night. Aside from the frequent moments of sibling rivalry, there aren’t too many skirmishes in the Eligibles’ wing. More often, just romantic rendezvous.”
I snorted, remembering the hot-n-heavy we’d almost stumbled into on the grounds the other morning. Something about overhearing those two niggled at me, but I couldn’t figure out why. “You fight well, though.”
“Not to the level of the Strati,” Terran said.
“You’re still decent.”