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Hector rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. “What kind of creatures did she conjure?”
“All sorts,” I said with a shrug. “Snakes, soldiers, creatures of her own making.”
“But if they were conjured, could they actually land a blow?” Maez asked.
I pulled the neckline of my tunic wide over my shoulder, where three raised scars clawed over the joint and down my chest.
“Gods,” Hector breathed. “What did that?”
“A mountain cat,” I said, quirking my brow.
“And shifting didn’t heal the wound?”
The magic of changing forms could heal almost any wound, if done quickly enough. Every time we shifted into our furs and back again, our bodies were rebuilt, wounds healed, sore muscles eased. It was why Wolves lived nearly twice as long as humans; the shift seemed to fend off old age. There was something sacred about that moment between one form and the next—when wewere both and neither. That was the magic the humans prayed to—the magic of change.
“I didn’t shift for two weeks,” I finally said, meeting their gaping expressions as I pulled my neckline back into place. “I wanted this one to last.”
“I think I’m going to enjoy having you on our crew,” Sadie said with an approving grunt, unfolding her arms and heading to the weapons rack. “Here.” She tossed a wooden dagger to me and I caught it in midair. “That sword is too big for you.”
“I know.” I scowled. “I was just building my strength. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Come to vent?” Maez asked with a knowing smirk. “We’ve all had those days. I can’t imagine meeting King Nero helped.”
“Indeed,” I said, causing them to chuckle.
Sadie selected a matching dagger from the rack. “Did Grae not tell you what the King was like?”
She unbuckled her belt and placed her actual weapons on the rickety bench. Steel weaponry was expensive. They wouldn’t dent and blunt their most powerful tools, hacking away at each other in a sparring match.
“Grae didn’t tell me a lot of things,” I muttered, stretching my neck from side to side as Sadie approached.
Maez turned toward Hector, readying her stance. “My cousin has reasons for his silence.”
It was all she said, though I knew there must be more there. The other guards seemed to agree. What did they know that I didn’t?I’ve always felt protective of you.Betrayal swarmed my senses. Why had he said that?
I beckoned Sadie to attack, needing a distraction from my swirling thoughts. She was fast, her movements sharp and unfamiliar, but I was faster. I darted and ducked out of each of her strikes, landing a blow on her hip with my practice blade.
She panted a heavy breath. “Nice.”
I bowed my head, receiving the compliment. “Vellia trainedme as best she could, but I’m glad to have living sparring partners now.”
Even as I praised her, I seethed at the fact that Vellia had done us a disservice by making the Silver Wolves seem like family. She should’ve been harder on us, prepared us for their disdain and manipulation. I thought I’d be welcomed into a new pack, but instead, I was a pawn in the greedy King’s ministrations.
Sadie attacked again, her dulled dagger slicing my arm at the same time I held the tip of my blade to her side. It would’ve been a killing blow.
“You’re welcome to train with us whenever you like.” Sadie’s lips twisted up as she scanned me from head to toe. Pride bloomed in my gut at the impressed look she gave me. “Seeing as Grae and Briar will be together most of the time. I think our little trio will soon become four, anyway.”
I waited until she was ready and lurched forward again. She blocked each of my strikes, each of us trying to make the other pivot, trying to find the upper hand. It felt glorious. Like a battle and a dance all at once. Block, strike, duck, spin. Again and again, the dull clank of our wooden daggers filled the space.
Sadie’s eyes darted over my right shoulder, only a split second, but with her focus diverted I found my opening. Lunging forward, I hit her hard in the ribs, and whirled to whoever she spotted behind me. The bite of steel halted the sweep of my dagger, a hand grabbing my wrist to stop my strike, and Grae’s storming eyes stared down at me.
Nine
I twisted out of his grip, trying to land a punch to his side, but Grae was faster. He blocked my strike and I retreated a step, kicking at his knee while swiping my wooden blade. I blinked at him—at his speed and skill—and realized how easily he could’ve disarmed me in that hallway. He let me think I had the upper hand, but he could’ve pried that dagger from my grip at any moment.
I scowled at him, slicing my weapon through the air. He ducked under it, narrowly avoiding the strike to the head. Lunging forward, he tried to knock me off balance, but I was right there, forcing him to circle around me like a predator stalking prey.
A man behind him, watching our exchange, clapped slowly. I squinted, noting he was the guard who’d led me to the King’s office.
