Page 20 of Ironhold, Trial One

“What?” he says.

“Would you mind grabbing Lyra?”

He looks over to me. “Do you want me to?”

I nod. I need the practice. We move close to one another, and he grabs me, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight tohim so that I can feel the muscles of his chest against me. I tried to break his grip the way Zara showed me, but it isn't working. He is simply too strong.

“No,twistmore,” she insists. “Like you mean it, Lyra. Unless youlikebeing held in Rowan’s arms?”

In that moment I'm all too aware of Rowan’s proximity, of the scent of him, the solidity of his muscles. He looks briefly uncomfortable, and his grip loosens just a touch. It's all I need to break free.

“And this is where you would draw your dagger and stab him,” Zara says, as if it's nothing.

I have a wooden dagger by my side. I haven't thought about it so far, but now I can think about nothing else. About the fact that, although these people are becoming friends, there may come a point where I am pushed into fighting them. Where I am expected to kill one of them.

It's enough to make me step back, worried by the thought.

Even as I do it, another figure steps out onto the sands. I recognize Alaric, moving with grace and certainty. He takes a wooden sword and moves around one of the posts in a blur, striking it from every possible angle. Illusion follows him so that after a moment or two, it's as if there are three or four of him attacking the post. I can only imagine how confusing that would be for an opponent, not knowing which was real.

Finally, the images come back together and he turns my way with a short bow, clearly knowing that I was watching, and just as clearly enjoying that fact.

“You know Alaric Blackthorn?” Zara says.

“I've met him,” I reply.

He saunters over, every movement languid. “Lyra. I'm glad to see that you're recovered from your punishment. I hope you won't do anything so foolish again.”

“What does it matter to you?” Rowan asks. There's a hard note there in his voice, something protective of me but also something that obviously dislikes Alaric.

“Ah, I believe I’ve seen you before,” Alaric says. “Weren’t you standing at the beck and call of Lady Tyra? And yet now you're here? You must not have satisfied her sufficiently.”

I can feel the tension between the two increasing and so I step between them.

“I'm fine, Alaric,” I say. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“I'm not just checking in,” Alaric says. “Although looking you over is always a delight. I came to give you a warning.”

“What warning?” I ask, doing my best to ignore the rest of it. It seems that Alaric is determined to poke and prod at me, seeing what kind of reaction he can get. Is that his idea of fun?

“I was talking with Vex. He was telling me how he's been picked as the one to fight you next. A bout with live blades, and if you don't fight back this time, he's decided he will kill you. Eventually. He does like to play with his prey.”

“Lyra is no one’s prey,” Rowan snaps back.

Alaric laughs. “In this place? We are all prey unless we learn to be predators. I trust that my warning will allow Lyra to become the latter. Oh, and Vex has a weakness on his left side when he throws his daggers. You may be able to take advantage of it. I hope you will. You're far too interesting to lose too soon.”

He stalks away, leaving me to contemplate everything he said.

“We should get back to practicing,” Rowan says. “If this is true, you need to prepare.”

I wave that away though. “I need to think.”

And when I need to think I go to one place now. I head to the kitchens, snatching a couple of morsels of food, then head for the depths of the fortress and the waiting beast pens. As I enter, I can feel the presence of all the creatures there, so manyof them crammed into such a small space. Some of them are trained, some are still almost wild. In the case of a few of the more monstrous ones, they are barely contained.

I head over to where Stefano is waiting near the shadow cat. He looks up as I approach. “I knew you were coming. The cat started to respond as soon as you were close.”

The shadow cat is currently laying on its side, as if it is a tiny kitten rather than some great cat. It lets me reach out to run my fingers through its fur, and I feed it the morsels of food I have acquired. It licks my fingers clean, its tongue rough.

I can feel that it is almost recovered, thanks largely to Stefano's efforts. It pushes its weight against me, as if it might cuddle close to me, but it is big enough that the movement almost knocks me over.

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