Page 43 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Gemira

The morning air is crisp as I walk toward the training yard with Rosie at my side. She’s dressed in practical training clothes.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“A little,” she admits. “I learned from my father, not in a training yard. It got me through the trials, but this…” She gestures at the organized setup. “This is different.”

“You must miss them,” I say.

Rosie looks at me, with warmth in her expression. “I do. But having you and Finn around has made it a lot easier lately.”

“You’re going to kick their asses,” I say, giving her a nudge. “You’ll see.”

She smiles, relief flickering across her face. I give her hand a quick squeeze.

We round the corner into the yard, and I see them, Hayes, Ryewood, and Grier. Finn isn’t here, which means the wall is covered.

“Morning boys,” I say smugly, bolstered with Rosie at my side. “Today you’ll have another woman around to kick your asses. Rosie will be joining us!”

Rosie blushes.

Hayes straightens immediately, with his attention locked on her. “Rosie, glad to have you,” he says, with a smile breaking through.

Grier nods in acknowledgment. “Good to have another skilled fighter in the group.”

Ryewood barely glances at her, his attention on me instead, and there’s a question in it he doesn’t ask.

“We’re working on dagger combat today,” I continue, pushing past the strange hitch in the air. “Close-range weapon work.”

Hayes moves toward Rosie immediately. “I’ll partner with you, if that’s all right.”

We watch them square off. Hayes steps in with a softness to him, he’s pulling his strikes before they land, leaving gaps he wouldn’t leave with anyone else.

I expect Rosie to hesitate, but she doesn’t. She mirrors him for half a breath, then shifts and breaks rhythm entirely, slipping inside his guard and twisting her wrist.

His dagger hits the dirt with a sharp, unmistakable clatter. The sound carries, and conversation around the yard falters as a few heads turn.

Hayes blinks down at his empty hand, then looks up at Rosie. A slow smile curves across his mouth, brief and unguarded, before he reins it back in.

“Well,” Hayes says lightly, retrieving the dagger, “Gemma was definitely right.”

A flush creeps up Rosie’s cheeks, but she’s smiling.

So that’s how she survived the trials. Pride flickers through me, quick and unbidden.

I turn to Grier and Ryewood.

“Grier,” I say, “why don’t you partner with Ryewood.”

He nods, and they take their positions across from each other, and immediately I feel the tension, sharp and unresolved.

“Begin with defensive exchanges,” I call. “Slow speed. Focus on form.”

They don’t.

Ryewood strikes first, fast and aggressive. Grier blocks and counters hard. The clang of daggers rings sharply across the yard.

“I said slow speed,” I call out, firmer.