Page 16 of Ironhold, Trial Two

We keep working. There's something easy about training with Rowan. He makes me feel comfortable in a way that I do not normally feel when I am working with weapons. He makes me feel as though everything is all right, and he is a patient tutor. I can feel myself getting better. My time at Ironhold has made my body harder and leaner, but it is the work I have put in with Rowan that has made me a better fighter.

I still don't know for sure if that's a good thing or not. I have killed, and the weight of that is a heavy one on my heart. I hate that this place makes us do such things, but I also know I will not stand by and let myself be killed.

“We haven't talked about what Arctus did to you,” Rowan says, as we finish our session.

We haven’t talked about a lot of things.

“That was Vex, not him. He only attacked me because Vex suggested it, and he knew that I would be punished for fighting in front of Lord Darius.”

“I hate that he can do that to you,” Rowan says. “If I thought it would do any good, I would-”

I put a hand on his chest to stop him before he commits to any violence on my behalf. I can feel the solidity of his muscles under my hand. It's all I can do to keep from tracing the outlines of those muscles with my fingers.

“I don't want you lashing out for me,” I say. “For all I know that's what Vex wants. I think this is all part of some bigger game. Maybe a part of it is to manipulate you since you're one of the best fighters here. He knows that we're… close, so maybe he's using that against you.”

“You think he would?” Rowan asks.

I nod. “I have been warned that there are political games and tricks involved in everything here. Ravenna has showed me that,and Alaric has warned me against getting too close to anyone, because people will use it against me.”

Rowan looks a little surprised, and possibly a little upset too. “You're going to listen to them? To the nobles? They only see what they want to see, and they're playing their own games. Ravenna… she uses people. Alaric isn't much better. He's so arrogant, so focused on his own glory he doesn't care about anyone else.”

That's certainly the impression that Alaric gives, although I'm not entirely certain it's true. I get the feeling that there are things Alaric cares about more than he lets on. He's just careful to make sure that nobody finds out what they are so that they can't use them against him.

“Whether you agree with them or not as people,” I say. “You can't deny that this is a place full of games behind the scenes. And there’s the question of what I am.”

“You mean a beast whisperer,” Rowan says. He winces slightly at the term.

“You don’t like that I can do that, do you?” I say. “Isthatwhy you’re holding back from me?”

“It’s… they tell stories, of how all beast whisperers become corrupted, of how eventually, they’re little more than animals,” Rowan says.

“And you believe that? Aboutme?”

“I… I don’t think you would become like that deliberately,” he says. “But I’m not sure you can deal with it, Lyra.”

“You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing,” I reply. “Do you believe that I can’t control it?”

“I think you believe you can control lots of things,” Rowan says. “Like what the nobles do.”

“That’s necessary,” I reply. “It seems there's always someone trying to manipulate something here. There's the constant pushing for position, which nobles you attract the attention of atthe games, which groups of gladiators you consider friends, even what your powers are and what you can do for people.”

“You're making this more complicated than it has to be,” Rowan argues. He moves out onto the sand, taking up a longer sword and tossing me a wooden trident. “This is what matters.”

He takes up a guard position, urging me forward. I know he can read every movement I make through the ground. I try for my own brand of advantage, reaching out to the eyes of small creatures around the practice room.

I see myself from so many angles and so many strange eyes that for a second I am unbalanced. This is not like looking through the eyes of birds. I realize a second too late that there is an ants nest somewhere here, and now there are thousands of sets of eyes on me, a whole swarm of them. Enough to make me dizzy and sick trying to hold all those points of view in my head at once.

I stumble and Rowan is there to catch me, his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me up.

“It looks as though whatever you were doing today has taken it out of you,” he says.

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I just overreached myself with my talent.”

Rowan frowns, leaning close to me, but still seeming to hold back from crossing those last few inches. “You need to be careful. I've heard the things people are saying about you. Everyone knows that you're a beast whisperer. You need to be careful not to overstretch and hurt yourself.”

“You're telling me not to use my powers?” I ask. “They're the only reason I'm still here, Rowan.”

“I'm not saying that,” he says. “But the stories… those things are dangerous.”

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