Page 43 of A Kingdom of Broken Bonds

“I want to know. I’m trying to get to know you better, and I’m interested in learning about the fae.”

I don’t know if it’s my standoffish body language or the look on my face that conveys I won’t be training until I get some information out of him, but it seems to have the desired effect.

Scowling, he looks away, indecision flashing in his eyes. I have never seen him like this before, and it is almost enough for me to apologise and drop the subject, but I hold my ground. Growling low in his throat, he turns back to me, his expression hard. “I’ll answer a question if you can land a blow or disarm me. Deal?”

I don’t even need time to think over it, agreeing instantly. “Deal.”

Returning to the centre of the room, we face each other in our ready positions. I bounce on the balls of my feet, prepared to move as soon as the fight begins. Finnik is fast and highly skilled, and if I have any hope of scoring a hit, then I have to take him by surprise. My hand hovers over my hip where my dagger is sheathed, and as soon as Finnik barks the order to begin, I grab it, the blade glinting in the light.

In a move almost too quick to track, I pull my arm back and throw the weapon. The dagger flies towards Finnik, and it would have been a perfect shot had he not ducked at the last second and jumped to the right.

Ridding myself of my weapon so early in the fight probably wasn’t the smartest move. However, in darting to the side to avoid being hit, it puts him exactly where I want him. Going for the unexpected, I leap forward, tackling him to the ground. Had he known it was coming, he would have fought me off, but I managed to catch him off guard.

He lands with a grunt, my weight on top of him as I pin him to the ground with my body. While he may be stronger than me, I have gravity and surprise on my side. It gives me a split second to reach for a blade I have strapped to my arm, although in doing so, I end up pressing my chest against his face. His body freezes for a moment, as he doesn’t know how to react to such a close up view of my breasts, giving me an unexpected advantage. This was certainly not what I planned, but Finnik is always telling me to use every advantage I can, so I suppose I am just following his instructions. This strategy will never work on him again, but all I need is for it to work now.

I press my blade against his throat hard enough that should he so much as breathe too deeply, it will cut his skin—a hit.

“How did you end up in Drathlor?” I ask quickly, already having a question in my mind, ready to go.

Lips pinching together, he narrows his eyes on me, and I can practically hear his annoyed thoughts churning through his mind as he bristles at having been taken down so quickly.

“I crossed the mountain,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

I wait pointedly for him to give me a complete answer, yet he just stares up at me with a brow raised in challenge. Oh, so he thinks he can get around having to answer my questions by giving me vaguely relevant statements.

“That is not a proper answer, and you know it! Give me more details.” My comment comes out more as a demand, surprising me at the force of it.

For a moment, he continues to stare, and I think I am going to have to fight the information out of him, but he sighs and closes his eyes. The tension leaves his body, and when he opens his eyes again, I see a change in him, as though I’m looking at a younger version of him.

I shift my weight so I’m not hurting him and wait in silence. He’s going to speak now, I can feel it. Whatever brought him here must have been traumatic to have this much of an effect on him, so I won’t push him until he’s ready.

“My parents were important in the fae lands,” he begins, releasing a long, shaky breath. “They were murdered because of who they were, and I was sent away for my safety. My safe house was attacked, and I knew as long as I was alive and in the fae lands, I would always be under threat, so I crossed the mountains.” His voice becomes matter of fact as he talks about the threat to his life, as if trying to distance himself from it. “I almost died, as it is not an easy journey. When I arrived on this side of the mountains, I had hypothermia and would not have lasted much longer alone. Havoc was tracking a mountain lion with a group of hunters from the castle. It turned out that the predator was stalking me, and I had not even realised it. Havoc came across me, lost and half frozen. He and the others took me back to the castle, and I told them everything. His family offered me a place among them, and I never left.”

His eyes gleam with emotion as he speaks, and I get the impression this isn’t something he ever talks about, the reminders of his past life only making him relive the pain of losing his parents and his home—not only his home, but his entire kingdom. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to flee his country and cross into a foreign, unknown land. His reluctance to speak of it makes more sense now, and I can understand some of his standoffish behaviour.

This also helps me understand his relationship with Havoc a bit better. While I am sure he sees a kinder side to the prince, I have always wondered what connected the two of them so closely.

Looking down at him, I scan his face, surprised by the emotion I saw when I usually see nothing more than a scowl. Although the emotions were negative ones of loss and reminiscing, it opened his face up and took away much of the battle hardened exterior that he carries around with him. Perhaps this is what he would look like had he not been through life-altering trauma.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” I’m not trying to pity him, I can only imagine how he would react to that. No, I am trying to show that I know some of his pain. I lost my mother at a young age, and my father has always been distant. Thanks to my part as one of the brides, I don’t have as close of a connection to my family or people as my peers do, so I know what it is like to grow up alone and leave your home behind. Of course, I am able to return to my kingdom every six months, but that place stopped being my home when my mother died.

His elbow comes up and hits my jaw, knocking me back. A hit. Damn it!

He crawls out from underneath me, the feat easier to do thanks to the fact I shifted most of my weight from him. “You get too emotional when fighting. It distracts you.”

My ears ring, and I clutch my hands to my jaw to try and ease the pain, surprise and outrage making me see red. What a fucking bastard! He used my kindness against me. Any sympathy I had for him is long gone, his mental armour now fully back in place. Is anything he just said true, or was it all a lie to get back at me?

“Do you love Havoc?” he snaps, seeming both annoyed and curious at the same time. If I have learned anything about him, it is that he hates falling into unnecessary conversations, especially ones that involve sharing emotions. Something about me seems to get under his skin and make him ask things he would never usually dream of asking.

Irritated, I narrow my eyes on him as I rub my throbbing jaw. “I never agreed to answer questions.” I pretend that it is the pain making me snappy, but really I know it is because he used my emotions against me.

“It is only fair that you answer my questions too.”

Damn him. He’s right, and while some people wouldn’t care about something like that, I have morals.

Sighing, I straighten and prepare for any attack he might attempt while I’m still adjusting. “No, I don’t love Havoc.”

I try not to let myself think about why he’s asking, and for a moment, I swear relief floods his expression, but it’s gone before I can blink, and he’s attacking once more. I have to drop those thoughts to protect myself from his barrage of strikes, his movements so quick that it’s impossible to block him when he’s this close to me.

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