Page 136 of Blood Feast

10

Nights After

WINTER SOLSTICE

WEAPON MASTER

Cassia wondered if theMage King had ever imagined an errant circle of Hesperines would turn his armory into their practice room. She doubted anything about this epoch resembled what he and the Changing Queen had envisioned.

Especially their descendant standing there with her fangs out, her hand stinging from impact with her Grace-cousin’s immortal jaw.

“How can your face be that hard?” She watched her split knuckles heal. A new spatter of bloodstains now decorated the red-brown fabric of her battle robe.

Mak was unfazed by the one punch she had managed to land. “You’re getting better.”

“I think you let me hit you.”

“If I ever did such a thing,” he said innocently, “it would be for teaching purposes. You still have the muscle memory of a human. You need to learn to move like a Hesperine and do it intentionally, not only when your immortal reflexes come to your rescue.”

“Thank you for the lesson. Maybe I’ll make it through our next battle without a sword slicing my hip open.”

He gave her an affectionate push toward the bench where Lio and Lyros were watching. “All right, Lio, your turn. Get out here, you overtall, undermuscled scrollworm.”

Lio paused to kiss Cassia’s bloodied knuckles. She watched him tread barefoot onto the leather mats wearing nothing but his Imperial trousers.

He faced Mak, looking down his nose from his bloodborn height. “I gained at least a few new muscles when I broke Flavian’s face this past autumn.”

“You need more muscles than you can get turning that limp rag into your punching bag. Prove you learned something from the times Tendo smashed your face in the dirt.” Mak crossed his arms over his bare chest. He too was sparring in trousers tonight, with everyone’s robes the worse for wear after their battles.

Cassia flopped down onto the bench next to Lyros and picked up Lio’s folded battle robe, examining the damage. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in the fabric and sniff her Grace’s scent like a thorny youngblood. “We really need to see to the mending.”

Lyros’s gaze drifted over Mak. “I’m not in a hurry. Are you?”

Cassia watched Lio’s back as he warmed up with a couple of stretches. He had just the right amount of muscles. “On second thought, sewing doesn’t seem very important in our dangerous circumstances. Clearly, bare-chested training sessions take priority.”

Lyros half grinned, and she was glad. He hadn’t smiled much since Mak had been wounded.

Mak raised his fists, but Lio shook his head. He extended his hand toward their pale adamas weapons, which now hung among the Mage King’s armaments of bronze and iron. Lio’s staff levitated into his grasp. “What I need is a lesson from our weapon master.”

Mak’s teasing humor faded.

“When you set your mind to something,” Lio said, “you don’t do it by halves. You wouldn’t forge weapons without developing a Hesperine combat style to make use of them.”

Mak shifted on his feet.

“He has,” Lyros spoke up. “How do you think I knew how to throw a spear at those Gift Collectors?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Mak said. “It’s not as if I could show the Blood Errant what I was working on and ask for their advice.”

Lio lifted Final Word in both hands. “You can show the Black Roses.”

Mak’s veils slipped, and Cassia felt his grim acceptance. She understood. Just as she must embrace her power, it was time for him to teach them to use their weapons to the fullest, for better or worse.

A look of decision came over his face, and he nodded. “One thing I was able to learn from the Blood Errant is how Gift Collectors use their makeshift weapons. I’m designing our combat style as a defense against the necromancers’ tactics, built on the Hesperine battle arts, with a few tricks from the Ashes thrown in.”

“That sounds brilliant,” Lio said.

Mak gestured to Lio’s staff. “I chose a staff for you because its long reach will help you keep opponents off you while you cast. When wielded well, a quarterstaff like this will let you dominate the space around you. Never underestimate how dangerous a human with a wooden stick can be…”

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