We stood there for a moment longer, the silence between us not quite companionable but not hostile either. A wary truce. A beginning forged from necessity and something quieter, something almost like trust.
Behind us, the back door creaked open.
It was Mrs. Gruha, holding a faded wool blanket in one hand and a stern look in the other. “If you’re going to stay out here all night, at least take this. The frost’s coming early.”
She tossed the blanket at Uldrek. Without missing a beat, he caught the blanket midair and draped it over my shoulders. He didn’t speak, just gave Gruha a single, respectful nod.
The door shut again.
Ellie stirred with a soft sigh, her warmth pressing closer to my skin. I adjusted the blanket tighter around us both and finally let my shoulders relax.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“We start with footwork,” Uldrek replied, almost mockingly serious.
A flicker of a smile ghosted across my lips.
Tomorrow. We'd see what it brought.
Chapter 5
The practice yard behind the training hall was smaller than I'd expected—a cobblestone square nestled between high stone walls that blunted the sounds of the city beyond. Autumn vines crept along a weathered wooden pergola, casting dappled shadows across the ground.
I shifted Ellie higher against my chest as I stepped through the narrow archway. She was awake and alert, dark eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with the solemn curiosity that always made her seem older than her months. I'd fed her before we left Tinderpost House, hoping she'd be content through whatever Uldrek had planned for our first lesson.
The yard appeared empty. I checked the sun's position—just past midmorning, exactly when he'd told me to arrive. Maybe I was early. Or maybe he'd reconsidered what he promised in the frost-kissed garden the night before.
I wouldn't have blamed him.
A patch of sunlight warmed the stones near the eastern wall. I moved toward it, pulling a folded blanket from my satchel and spreading it carefully on the ground. For a moment, I simply stood there, Ellie secure against me, the blanket empty at my feet.
This was the hardest part. Setting her down. Even for a moment.
"You can do this," I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I'd brought her favorite toy—a smooth wooden ring carved with leaf patterns, stained with beeswax and mint to soothe her gums when she chewed it. I placed it in the center of the blanket, then slowly eased Ellie down beside it.
She looked up at me, startled but not upset. Her tiny hands immediately reached for the wooden ring, fingers closing around it with surprising strength. When she rolled to her side, focused entirely on getting the toy to her mouth, I took half a step back.
Just half.
"Brought your chaperone, I see."
I turned sharply, my hand instinctively moving back toward Ellie. Uldrek stood at the far end of the yard, leaning against the stone wall. He wore a sleeveless leather vest over a simple linen shirt, the fabric worn but clean. His dark brown hair was slicked back from his face, the sides closely cropped. A short, well-kept beard framed his jaw, revealing the sharp angles of his face.
It struck me, not for the first time, just how big he was. Broad through the shoulders, thick in the arms—built like someone who'd spent a lifetime absorbing damage and giving it back. There was no mistaking what he was, even without the tusks or the scars. He didn’t blend. He didn’t try to.
And still—he was standing there, hands empty, watching Ellie, not me.
"I don't go anywhere without her," I replied.
Uldrek pushed himself away from the wall, crossing the practice yard with unhurried strides. He stopped a respectful distance from where Ellie lay contentedly gnawing on her toy.
"Smart," he said, with a small, approving nod.
I'd worn my oldest clothes—a faded blue tunic loose enough for movement, leggings that had seen too many washes, and soft leather shoes I'd bartered for in the last town before Everwood. My hair was tied back in a simple braid, dark strands already escaping around my face.
"What do we start with?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze.