Page 73 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

“Why?” I demanded.

He shook his head, still grinning. “I said I would tell you where, not why.”

I bit back a growl of frustration, and looked down. With my eyes on the bed, I almost didn’t see him reaching behind him for the neck of his blood stained shirt, he pulled it off with one swift motion. I blinked in surprise.

“Are you ready for my question?” he asked.

I shook my head to clear it. “Fine.”

I needed to get a grip on myself. I shouldn’t have noticed or cared what his body looked like, but it was hard not to stare at all the hard muscles, covered almost completely in black, swirling tattoos. They started at his neck, and extended all the way down, disappearing past his belt.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “At this very moment.”

I flushed scarlet, and quickly looked away. I was an idiot, and that was a cruel question, but only because I should not be wondering how much lower those tattoos ran. I should not be thinking of anything, except why we were bound for Underneath.

I refused to answer honestly. There had to be some technical truth I could give him, that would not burn my throat and also wouldn’t reveal how absurd my thoughts had turned.

“I was thinking about how very stupid I am,” I said.

To my surprise, he grinned. “An answer worthy of a Fae queen.”

I flushed deeper, and turned away.

“Wait, he said, finally pulling his shirt over his head. “I wanted to tell you something earlier, but did not get the chance.”

For some unknown reason, my heartbeat sped up, and I was nervous as I replied: “What was that?”

“I’ve thought of something for you to do.”

“For me to do?” I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

He sat up straighter, focusing on me again, as if coming to a more concrete decision. “You said you have no pastimes.”

Oh. A beat too late, I recalled the request I’d made of him. I needed something to occupy my time. “Right. What is it? It’s not as if I’m about to take up painting while in captivity.”

He stood, seemingly not listening to me, and walked around the side of the table until we were only a few feet away from one another. “You like winning, as do I, and you complain you have no way of defending yourself, which I can also understand.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know what you’re angling for, but I cannot imagine that you have ever understood being unable to defend yourself.”

“I don’t have any offensive magic,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Perhaps, but you seem perfectly well acquainted with those swords.”

Ambrose grinned at me. “Exactly. I’m going to teach you to use them.”

* * *

There was nota single protest I could’ve made that seemed to make any difference to Ambrose. Therefore, I found myself out on the deck that afternoon, preparing for my first lesson.

In truth, I should be jumping for joy at this offer. Ambrose had been right in his assessment of me: I’d complained bitterly and often about being outmatched, and unable to do much more than flee in a fight. Except, I remembered all too well Bael’s early attempts at teaching me to use a blade, and how poorly they’d gone. I was simply uncoordinated, and that was all there was to it.

The afternoon sun was shining brightly, bringing some much-needed warmth after days of chilly weather. As I stood on the upper deck of the ship, I could still feel a slight chill in the air but it was nothing compared to the freezing temperatures of previous days. Ambrose and I stood facing each other, a sense of tension between us as I waited for him to speak. The crew had given us a wide berth, but I saw them casting curious looks at us as Ambrose presented me with a sword.

I eyed the blade skeptically before taking it, testing its weight in my palm. It wasn’t small exactly, but neither was it as heavy or bulky as the enormous two-handed blades he favored. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s Lin’s,” he replied easily. “So make sure not to lose it or she’ll have my head.”

I tilted my head questioningly, trying to think of who he could possibly be talking about. I’d never seen him interact with anyone besides the imposing guard, Riven. Who would have such a close connection to the rebel leader that they could borrow his possessions or even dare to intimidate him? “Who is Lin?”

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