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"Fine." I nod my head and take up my fighting stance at the far end of the rings. "Let's do this."
He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "I won't be unleashing Nox in the middle of the city."
"Then what do you propose?"
Atlas insists we pick Ronan up from Starnborough before we take a short boat ride out of Crescent Bay. Once we're out of direct view of the city, Ronan motions towards a small islet I would have overlooked had he not pointed it out. Not much longer than a city block, it is packed with ancient pine trees stretching toward the grey skies, except for the small clearing we're headed to.
"What is this place?" I ask as we reach the weather worn dock.
"This is Kazamere. Deeper inland there is a crypt belonging to Krystos, the first king of Tronovia, and his fire dragon, Brexis," Ronan explains as Nyx and Atlas hop over the side and secure our boat.
Ronan's boots thud against the rickety dock and he extends his hand to help me do the same, but I shake my head. The trees sway slightly and the wind whistling around us sounds almost ominous, like a warning to be wary of treading on these sacred burial grounds.
"What's wrong, Kitarni?" Nyx teases as he grabs his small pack. "Spooked by ghost stories?"
"One does not disturb or mock the dead," I say firmly.
"Tell that to the thousands of couples sneaking here for a stolen kiss over the last hundred years," Ronan adds with a devilish smirk.
"What are you talking about?" I furrow my brow.
"This is where Tronovian teens come to uh… have some privacy," Atlas explains. He looks pale, like he might throw up.
Knowing he'd be irritated if I point that out, I hold my tongue, and ask, "They aren't afraid of what might happen to them should they disturb the dead?"
Atlas shrugs, "Nothing has happened yet."
"And he's dead," Nyx so delicately points out. "Why would he care?"
They have solid points, but still, I feel weird coming to practice magic where a mighty man and his beast were laid to rest.
Atlas makes his way back to the boat and leans so close I can smell the peppermint on his breath. "We don't have to do this, if you're uncomfortable being here, Princess," he whispers so the others don't hear, "but I won't use Nox in the city or anywhere an innocent person might get hurt."
If he thinks I'm backing down, he's sorely mistaken. With fresh determination fueling me, I plop my bottom on the railing of the boat, sweep my feet over to the other side, and slam my boots against the rickety dock. "I'm fine. Let's do this."
A sadness flashes in Atlas' eyes, but as quick as it comes, it goes. He jerks his head toward the clearing, and I follow him. There's an eerie feeling, like something ancient lays dormant, not fully dead. Paying attention to my surroundings, I don't notice Atlas has stopped until I slam into him.
"This is where we'll practice for now," he says as I take a step back.
"What will Headmistress Radcliffe think of that?" I quirk an eyebrow, hoping to bring a little levity to this very tense situation, but it falls flat.
"As you can tell from me kidnapping you, I'm not known for following rules."
"I believe I'm on record for volunteering to come to Tronovia." I smile up at him, but he doesn't reciprocate.
"You head that way," he points to his left, "and I'll head this way."
"Shouldn't we be closer?"
Atlas shakes his head. "My magic has great range. I'd rather not be too close just in case you attack."
Or if he attacks me, is what he doesn't say. "Right."
"We can still turn back. No shame in that."
"I want to do this." I say with a confidence I don't feel. "Unless you've changed your mind?"
He looks like he wants to throw me over his shoulder and force me back to the boat, but instead, he shakes his head, his gaze dipping down from my eyes to my lips. "Remember your promise."
