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57
My heart freezes mid-beat as I stare at the weapon now in Braxton’s possession.
A weapon he definitely wasn’t holding just a moment before.
Though I tend to lean much more toward flight than fight, that doesn’t stop my hands from instinctively curling into fists, or my fingernails from biting into my palms, as my mind frantically calculates the number of steps between the door and me.
“Um…what are you doing?” I ask, my voice ratcheting up a handful of octaves, as Braxton takes a step forward, his gaze burning on mine.
Is this a sexy gaze or something else?
What’s the opposite of sexy? Threatening, menacing—
Before I can reach a conclusion, Braxton swings the dagger toward me and says, “Let the first lesson begin.”
When he hands me the weapon, I let out an audible breath.
“For a first timer, you did okay with the sword,” he says, shoulders casually lifting, as though he was left only marginally impressed by my earlier triumph over Elodie.
“Just okay?” I balk in a playful, exaggerated way, sure he’s trying to bait me. But Braxton’s expression remains sober and unsmiling, way too serious for a room and a night as beautiful as this.
“Do you want to learn, or do you want to be flattered?” He cocks his head to the side in study.
“Are the two mutually exclusive?” I counter, still determined to lighten the mood, but Braxton is so earnest, the joke crashes on impact.
“Make no mistake,” he says, his voice carrying an edge as sharp as my blade. “Had Elodie been armed, things would’ve ended differently today.”
Okay, now I’m really annoyed, and I don’t even try to hide it. It’s been a long time since I let myself try hard enough to excel at anything, and I’m not about to let Braxton dim the glow of my victory.
“It’s only hubris if I fail,” I snap. It’s a quote from Julius Caesar, but I’m betting he won’t know that. “Besides, not only did I succeed, but I’d even go so far as to say, IexceededArthur’s expectations.”
Braxton appraises me for a long, cool beat. “You’re right,” he finally says. “And while you should celebrate your wins, you also need to understand that when it comes to a sword fight, anger will get you only so far, and it’s certainly no match for skill. Which is why you need to learn how to properly handle your weapon, in addition to keeping your ego in check.”
The words land like a punch. And when his gaze locks on mine, I’m so riled up, I’m about to really let loose, when I realize that’s exactly the sort of problematic, knee-jerk reaction he’s referring to.
“Elodie triggers you,” Braxton says in a voice that’s steady, even, with no trace of judgment. He’s merely stated a fact, and I can’t even deny it. I’ve been nurturing my grudge against Elodie like most people watch over a baby, a puppy, or even a brand-new piercing—obsessively tending to it in a way that’ll ensure its survival. “Arthur is all too aware of the dynamic between you. It’s exactly why he chose her over Song, Finn, or anyone else he could’ve pitted you against.”
“Are you saying I actually…failedthe test?” I’m not sure if I’m more horrified or embarrassed by the thought. What I do know is that the heat of shame instantly finds its way to my face.
“You didn’t fail,” Braxton says, quick to dismiss any doubt. “Arthur got what he wanted, and, in the end, that’s what matters. But when you’re on a Trip, you need to leave your grievances behind and concentrate on the task at hand. And, for the record,” he says, “hubris didn’t work out so well for your Roman emperor, did it? Wasn’t it a brutal stabbing by a friend that ended Caesar’s reign?”
Touché.I breathe a deep sigh and study the dagger, if for no other reason than it feels safer than looking at Braxton.
“In the construct, my blade was much bigger.” I tighten my grip on the hilt, raise my weapon in front of me, and shred the air to invisible ribbons.
“True, but in the places and times you’ll travel to, women don’t carry large weapons. Which means you’ll need to train with a smaller blade—the sort you can easily conceal under a gown.”
I lower my weapon, needing a moment to process his words. “It’s still hard to believe that it’s real.” I try to envision the sort of logistics involved, but the best I can come up with are random scenes from various time travel movies that rely on phone booths and sports cars to get the job done. And though I still have no idea how Arthur has managed it, I’m sure he’s invented a far more elegant mode of transportation. “I mean, you talk about Tripping like it’s normal, but I’m having a really hard time wrapping my head around the concept.”
“I’m not sure you ever fully get used to it,” Braxton says. “And yet, five years at Gray Wolf have taught me that the only real limits are those of imagination.”
“And Arthur’s imagination, along with his bank account, are limitless?”
“So it appears.” Braxton grins in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Then again, grinning doesn’t come easily to someone like him.
“And when does Arthur plan on making the big reveal? I mean, just how long am I supposed to pretend I don’t know what the constructs are for?”
“For most people, they’re either a few months in before they flat-out ask, or a formal meeting is arranged where someone informs them what they’ve really been brought here to do.”
