Page 68 of To Bleed A Kingdom

“No, you didn’t,” I reply, slapping a palm against the door, halting its trajectory. “But he was attacking me just as much as you, and I won’t allow a challenge to go unpunished.”

Closing the matter, I open the door and level a hand above my brow, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun. Once they’re able to assimilate to the newfound light, a dirt packed arena comes into view.

Surrounding most of the outdoor training yard are stone towers and single-story buildings constructed of gray slate, curving into a crescent shape. A sturdy wooden fence completes the enclosure. The circular arena is separated into a gridded formation, stations where dozens of guards currently perform their daily drills. Two bare chested males swing and jab as they fight in the sparring station. A fae tosses a fire orb into the air while an immortal with a bow draws back and rapidly fires arrows, the orbs exploding into a shower of orange sparks on impact. Liquidhumanoid creatures summoned from Water magic charge towards an immortal. He dodges their blows, flinging knives as he ducks and rolls, the water creatures bursting into thousands of droplets with each strike.

Near the fence at the back of the training arena, two males and a youth inspect different blades on the weapons rack, the massive trees of the prized Seboia Forest – the only natural reserve found within these walls – serving as a backdrop to their discussion.

Packed dirt and loose pebbles crunch beneath my boots as I watch Griffin lift a dagger and swipe downward, appearing from this distance to be hacking at a tree in the forest that shadows them while speaking to Trip. Kace rolls his neck and stretches his arms, nodding to Ajax and me when he spots us striding toward them. At our arrival, Trip turns to us with a beaming smile, while Griffin returns the dagger to the rack and faces me with a neutral expression.

“Trip, have you warmed up yet?” I ask.

“No sir,” he answers sheepishly, ducking his head.

“Get going.” I jerk my head to the side. “Stretch and run a few laps around the perimeter.”

Enjoying laps just as much as an official recruit, Trip’s shoulders slump and he drags his feet towards the track.

“Ajax, you’ll be sparring with Kace. Griffin will assess,” I order. “And no shifting.”

Ajax’s lips curl in offense. “Not everyone considers shifting cheating.” With a scoff, he moves towards the warded practice ring. The outline of the ring shimmers a frosty blue arc in the dirt where Kace already waits.

I shrug. “That’s because they can't win without doing so.”

Kace activates the ward with a wave of his hand and a sheer dome of glittering blue shoots from the ground to shape around them. “You can shift, if you like,” Kace taunts, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’ll win either way.”

Ajax snorts, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “Not likely.”

“How about a friendly wager then, hmm?” Kace asks with a greedy smile, rubbing his hands together.

“No shifting,” I say to the slippery fae with a pointed look.

“You're no fun,” Kace pouts, then lunges for Ajax with a fierce battle cry.

Griffin moves casually toward their practice bout and I glare at his retreating back, wishing to knock his head from his shoulders.

“Not you,” I say, my tone laced thick with command.

He stiffens. “I thought you wanted me to evaluate Ajax?”

“You can do that while standing beside me,” I reply firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Griffin's shoulders expand, and he inhales a deep breath before spinning and striding to my side.

Folding my arms over my chest, I watch Kace swing a balled fist at Ajax’s cheek. Ajax snaps his head to the side, dodging the strike easily as he slaps a palm against Kace’s chest, sending him ass over end into the dirt.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I accuse.

Griffin’s nostrils flare, but he doesn't deny it.

Sucking on my teeth, I whirl on him. “What happened yesterday with Lena? What the fuck was that?”

After dinner with my mother, I silently refused to heed her commands and, instead, decided to avoid Lena altogether. But the longer I went without seeing her, the more difficult it was to stay away. As the days passed, it began to feel less and less like a desire to be near her, and more a demand. An imperative need to see her. To talk to her. To touch her. To be close to her any way I could. Distracting me from my duties, she burrowed within my mind and planted herself there, refusing to leave until I could think of nothing else but her.

It didn't take long for my willpower to fold to the clawing need and to seek her out. But every time I stood outside the inn, preparing to call on her, my mother’s orders played out in my mind and I couldn't do it. To bed her and use her, then toss her aside as if she meant nothing. I couldn’t do it. I may have been able to endure it with anyone else, but with her, I already know one taste will never be enough. That's something on which my mind is unwilling to bend. Whether she’s my enemy or not is of no consequence. I won’t manipulate her into some twisted relationship, and I sure as fuck won’t whore myself out to her. If I ever bed her, it'll be for our own satisfaction, not because my mother commanded it.

But now I wish I hadn't avoided her. Maybe yesterday wouldn't have been so disastrous or so overwhelming if I’d fed myself small drops of her presence instead of withdrawing completely. But I didn't. I foolishly believed that I would be able to control myself if I saw her again. That this oppressive need to be with her was all a delusion that could be controlled. But I couldn't have been more wrong. The instant I sensed her intoxicating scent and saw her watching me with a desperation akin to my own, every fiber of my being burned into a possessive rage and I lost my godsdamned mind.

The way I moved, the way I touched her, the way I spoke to her, it was all a manic-induced haze. As if my mind couldn’t fully grasp all that I felt and saw. But what I do remember is everything that happened after I released her. Gods! That'll forever be scorched into my mind. I've never felt such bone-deep terror watching her scream in agony all because of me. Because of my touch. I don't know what I did or even how I did it, but there’s no question that I did something. And it's been eating me alive ever since not knowing how I caused her so much pain. The worst part of it all is with Griffin's power of empathy, he can feel my fear. Feel my distress and confusion over this, and he could have helped me understand what happened. But what did the empathic bastard do? He ran out of the tavern like his ass was on fire and has been avoiding me ever since.

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