Page 72 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

They brought in large leather mats that the men and women used for sparring in Skiatha to cushion the blow against the hard stone floors, but it hardly sufficed. Leighton had knocked Katrin off her feet quite a few times and she had the bruises on her tail bone and elbows to prove it. But she was improving, at least, that was what he told her.

“You have a center of balance, and quick reflexes, but the issue remains that you are too cocky.” Leighton chuckled as he helped Katrin up yet again from falling flat on her ass.

“You do realize you are addressing a future queen, Leighton?” Katrin’s eyes narrowed, but they were warm, and a little smile spread across her face. It was hard to be angry at the man, the lightness in the way he spoke, honest, upfront and kind, even after everything that had happened to him.

“The fact remains, Princess, you will find yourself continuously on your ass if you do not learn to read your opponents’ moves rather than assume you can outsmart them.” He held up his hands again in a starting stance.

“I will have you know, I learned to read my opponent by one of the finest soldiers in Morentius.” Katrin wiped the dust off her leathers and black cotton shirt, and stood in an equal stance opposite the nauarch.

“Well therein lies your problem. Morentian soldiers are as cocky as they come. They rely much too heavily on the poison that laces their blades and brute force, rather than actual skill.” She snorted. Somehow that did not surprise her, except Kohl was one of the best fighters she had seen and he never used the viper’s venom on his blades.

Katrin jabbed twice with her right hand and threw a cross with her left, all meeting a block by Leighton’s arms. “Good. Again.” Two jabs, one cross. Block. “Again.” Two jabs, one cross. Block.

The princess was trying to keep eye contact as she adjusted her footing. This is what Leighton had done each time before. Set her in a routine and then he would come back at her with a dodge instead of a block, followed by a hook, or a swipe out beneath her legs. It was an exercise, Katrin knew that, but she wanted to throw something else back at him, wanted to get one real hit in to show she could read his moves. But the distracting thought got her, and once again she ended up on the floor.

A slow clap came from the edge of the room. The other men and women training in the facility went silent. Ander stood leaning against the doorway to the main hall, dressed head to toe in black. Even from across the room, Katrin could see the silver storms in his eyes, the color of the endless raining sky outside.

“It’s nice to see at least someone has a chance against you, Starling.” Usually that word sounded sweet as it left his lips, but this time it hit harder than Leighton’s punches.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you speaking to me again or can you just not help being an insufferable ass?” Katrin could have sworn the captain’s lip twitched up for just a second. Leighton’s definitely did, an undeniable grin crossed from ear to ear. But when she turned back to Ander his jaw was clenched tight.

“Well, you are definitely in for an earful, Ander. I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”

Leighton went to step away, but Katrin threw her arm in front of him and cut him off. “Anything the prince needs to say to me, he can say in front of you,” she spat, immediately sorry that her words seemed to strike not only Ander, but Leighton as well.

Katrin could see the captain’s nostrils flare and his jaw tick as he leaned off the doorway and walked closer. Her eyes could not help but trail him as he sauntered over, the black leather tight around his muscles, his chest just poking out enough from his typical linen shirt. Memories of the other night at the fortress trickled back into her mind. No, she would not let herself think of that, the way he smelled of lemon and the sea, the way his lips tasted sweet like olive oil. She was furious at him and would stay that way, even if he dripped lust across the floor.

“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?” Ander growled when he stepped up to her. Leighton’s eyes shot wide and he backed up a step. The poor nauarch. Katrin should have let him leave.

“Make this difficult? Me? I made this very easy. I apologized to you and you just brushed me off. Went back to whatever insolent conversation you were having.”

“Not that it matters, but I was in the middle of a very important discussion with one of my generals and I didn’t think it was the time or place to discuss what happened. Especially when your emotions seemed heightened from all the wine I saw you drink.”

“Oh sure, blame me. Because I was the one who ignored you the whole day after…”

Leighton began to shift uncomfortably on the side of the mat. “I think I am going to just leave you two…oh, what is that, Thalia? You need help with a shipment? Coming!” The nauarch backed away rather quickly. Fleeing from the embarrassment that was their fight.

Ander cracked his neck, running his hand through the back of his hair and sighed. “I told you that night, there was nothing to apologize for. It was merely a mistake.”

Katrin’s palms began to heat, light around her finger tips flickering. For a second she thought to stop herself, but when she looked at Ander she could not help but throw her arm back and land a punch right across his jaw.

Ander startled backward, his hand flying up to where Katrin had left her mark. A little trickle of blood trailed down from his lip. “What the fuck was that for?”

Katrin’s eyes narrowed. She felt a little bad for drawing blood, but he just made her so unbelievably angry. “That’s how you people solve things around here isn’t it? You spar. At least that’s what the soldiers told me.”

It was true, some of the women who trained here told her at dinner that when there was a dispute between soldiers, they would take it to the mat. Better to get out their aggression in a controlled environment rather than let it fester and cause problems on the battlefield.

“I’m not fighting you, Aikaterine.” Ander almost never called her that. It infuriated her even more, even though she’d always told him she hated his little nickname for her. At least, she hated it until she found out why he called her that. If the story had not been some fever-induced dream she had after she was attacked.

“Why not? Afraid I’ll beat you again?” Katrin went to throw another punch, but Ander caught her by the wrist pulling her in closer.

“I assure you, Starling, you only beat me because I let you,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low as his lips brushed her skin.

“Then prove it.” Katrin pushed off his chest, holding up her arms in a ready stance.

Ander sighed, shaking his head, but mirrored her stance anyway. They began to circle the mat, sizing each other up. Honestly, she had gotten lucky the first two times. Well, the second time at least. Ander had lost his footing. The first time—the first time he asked her to come at him, basically just sat still in his chair.

Maybe it was a mistake to fight him. But at least this way she could see he felt something toward her. Even aggravation was better than disdain. Katrin threw the first punch, Ander blocked, throwing his own. She dodged back and reset her stance. Leighton had said to read your opponent. That her biggest weakness was that she couldn’t anticipate the next move, that she already thought she would win and would lose herself in the attack. Katrin took in a slow, calming breath and began again. Jab, cross, hook, kick, reset. He would follow with the same moves. She knew he did not want to hurt her, Katrin was not sure that she could say that same thing.

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