The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(40)

On the far side, an open door revealed the empty healer’s quarters. Estrel had once said that Illucian soldiers looked down on healers. Apparently, getting treatment for a wound was akin to throwing your honor into the dirt and stomping on it. It would take a severe injury for soldiers to willingly subject themselves to treatment.

“Saints,” I breathed.

“These are the royal training grounds,” Ericen said. “If you think this is a bit much, you should see the ones at Darkward.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to. There was something about the swift efficiency of every soldier wherever I looked that made me uneasy. No matter their task, they completed it with the utmost power and skill, driving arrows into targets or pinning their opponents without mercy.

The ones who weren’t training stared at us, some with open fascination, some with suspicion. It was the ones who looked disgusted that made me bristle though. Ericen noticed them too, though from the way his expression changed, it seemed he thought they were looking at him. He stared them down, his eyes like jagged ice, until they looked away. He didn’t relax.

“Anyway, I wanted to show you in case you and Kiva wanted to train,” he said, his voice a little tighter now. “It’ll be pretty busy with people training for the upcoming Centerian.”

I stiffened. “The sword tournament?”

He nodded, and the morning chill permeated my skin. The Centerian only occurred every five years. Illucia’s most dangerous fighters would descend on Sordell to participate in the test of strength and skill. The renown for winning the tournament was unprecedented.

And here I’d thought Illucia couldn’t get any more dangerous.

“Also, I was thinking we could skip dinner tonight and go into town.” Ericen’s voice drew me from thoughts of ice-cold eyes and glinting steel.

“Yes.” My eagerness surprised me as much as Ericen, but I already needed a break from Razel. Kiva had said she was impressed at how I’d handled myself last night, but I still wasn’t Caliza. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t let a few choice words slip. Or a knife.

“I’ll send someone for you this evening then.”

I nodded, turning to go, and almost ran smack into a black wall. My hand went reflexively to my bow as I stepped back, finding two men in Vykryn uniforms blocking my path. The one in the front smiled—the boy from dinner. He was near my age, broad shouldered but lean with blond hair and royal-blue eyes.

My guard shifted, on edge. Then the soldiers parted, revealing Razel approaching.

I stiffened. The smell of burnt flesh, a flash of fire, Kiva yelling—Stop. I couldn’t lose myself in bloody memories every time I saw her.

The training grounds quieted as soldiers saluted. Ericen stiffened, his attention jumping from the blond Vykryn to his mother. Razel drew to a halt before us, cold eyes focused on me. She wore a gilded version of a Vykryn’s uniform, her rose-gold hair pulled back in a tight braid and weapons strapped to her back.

“Thia dear, I see you’ve found the training grounds. If you’d like, I could have one of our masters tutor you.”

The blond Vykryn snorted amusedly.

My nails dug into my palms. “I’ve already been trained by the best.”

A smile curled her lips. “In that case, perhaps we could spar? Illucian skill versus Rhodairen…determination.” She said the last word slowly, the unsaid message clear: At least you try.

Logic told me to say no. Razel was the queen of Illucia, the leader of a warrior kingdom. Caliza’d said she had won the Centerian at barely a few years older than me. But at the same time, I longed for the chance to take out the anger and hatred boiling in the pit of my stomach. Even if I only got one blow in, it would be worth it.

I smiled. “I’d love to.”

“No.” Ericen stepped forward. The blond Vykryn’s attention snapped to him, and Ericen stared him down. Something silent smoldered between them.

Razel raised an eyebrow. “What was that, Eri dear?”

“Yeah,” I growled. “What was that?”

“I’ll fight you in her place.” Ericen didn’t even acknowledge I’d spoken. He’d angled himself so his back was toward me.

Razel chuckled. “This isn’t a duel. No one needs to fight in her place. We’re just going to have a friendly spar.”

“With weapons,” Ericen said, and something dangerous glinted behind Razel’s eyes. This was a different Ericen altogether. The hard, angry one, who had looked like an imposter in his mother’s embrace.

“If you insist,” Razel said. “Sorry, Thia dear. He’s so demanding sometimes.”

Ericen didn’t spare me so much as a glance before stalking over to one of the fighting rings. I watched him go, scowling. Razel followed after the prince, the two Vykryn on her heels.

Someone stepped up beside me, and I flinched.

Kiva raised an eyebrow. “Jumpy. Guess that’s to be expected when you challenge death to a duel.”

I rolled my eyes. “She just wanted to spar.”

Kiva gave me a long look. “Don’t be na?ve. Razel would have laid you out just so you knew she could.”

I gritted my teeth as we followed the group over to the sparring ring Razel and Ericen had entered. He had his dual short swords in hand, she a pair of curved, dome-shaped blades with small spikes sticking out from the edges of the grip. Jin moonblades.