Page 31 of Mystique of the Fallen
In a complete departure from the stoic sentinel Alaric had been since his arrival in the gym, he rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Fallen knights are the bane of my existence,” he grumbled.
“Don’t you live with two of them?”
“Yes.”
“So, you must like them.”
“Not necessarily. They live there because they are mated to Skeleton Lords. Fate decided we should share a home. I did not.”
Grant had no clue why, but he burst into laughter. “All right. Try not to break my bones as we do this.”
“I refuse to take responsibility for any injury you incur,” Alaric stated as he easily fended off Grant’s attempts to get his blades close to any part of the Lich Sentinel. “Besides, you will mend almost instantly.”
“Won’t make it hurt any less,” Grant muttered as he tried to find an opening but found himself completely outmatched by Alaric. It wasn’t a surprise, but he was determined to improve so he could at least force Alaric to break a sweat someday.
“I take it you have already hurt yourself?”
Grant narrowed his eyes and swung his right arm forward, only to be stopped by the clang of his blade hitting Alaric’s. “Broke my nose on the second day of training. I let my guard down for a second and RK Conley nailed me in the face. Afterward, I was glad it happened. I can’t get better if I don’t learn things. When I’m fighting or studying, I need to be one hundred percent focused.”
“Indeed. Here is another lesson. Do not act recklessly. Make every motion count. This wild swinging will tire you out and give your opponent an advantage,” Alaric stated as he neatly slammed his dagger into Grant’s hard enough that the blade fell from his grasp. It hit the mat beneath their feet with a thud.
Grant picked it up and nodded. “Okay, what other pointers can you give me?”
“Keep your body tight. Your movements should be concise. Not fragile. Not purposeless. If you cannot find an opening, reassess and choose another strategy.”
“Here’s the problem,” Grant huffed out as Alaric disarmed him a second time. “You’re way better than this at me. There is no opening.”
“What are you doing with your feet?”
“Uh, using them to remain upright.”
“Grant, you cannot disarm me. Use your feet to knock me down.”
“Fuck, I should’ve thought of that,” Grant replied and swung around, intending to nail Alaric on the back of the knee. Unfortunately, the Lich Sentinel was too fast and dodged him. Grant’s momentum nearly had his faceplanting into the mat.
“Keep trying,” Alaric instructed.
“I will,” Grant vowed to both himself and the Lich Sentinel. “I’ll keep trying until the day I can at least surprise you and maybe get lucky enough to knock you on your ass.”
Alaric’s mouth curved into a smile. “I look forward to our rematches.”
Happy that he’d somehow pleased the Lich Sentinel, Grant doubled his efforts to follow Alaric’s instructions and intently watched his body language to mimic him. Grant intended to push himself to his limits in every respect of his training.
It was far too early to wrap his mind around the possibility of gaining more than a couple of ranks at graduation, but Grant wanted to make history. He was already dreaming of being called Venerable Knight.
∞∞∞
Roman closed his eyes as the mist from the sea dampened his skin. It was barely light out, but Roman hadn’t slept, so he’d walked from the rental house the Reverent Knights had insisted on paying for to the edge of the ocean. It was past high tide, so he didn’t need to worry about the water crashing onto the sand any closer to him. The air was cool, which suited a fallen knight impervious to temperature extremes, because the last thing he wanted was a bunch of people around.
For the first time in six-hundred-and-fifty-five years, Roman was living a lie. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a nefarious untruth, nor was it permanent. Drystan and Conley had decided that what Roman needed most was to clear his head. They had offered multiple options, but in the end, Roman had opted for a spot for him to be alone with his thoughts and feelings.
Everyone in his extended D’Vaire family knew where he was and why. But if anyone beyond that inquired where to find Venerable Knight Calixtus, they were transferred to Kyle, who happily explained that Roman was on a case—one so secretive that he couldn’t be reached. If anyone had left a message for Roman, Kyle had yet to pass them on.
Roman didn’t mind how protective the people he loved were. Quite the opposite. He was grateful. Although it’d been a few weeks, Roman continued to grapple with that moment at the Ascension Center when he’d laid eyes on Grant’s supine form.
Each day, either Arvandus or Samson emailed him the current test results for every recruit. Unless something dramatic happened, Grant would be a Venerable Knight at graduation. Roman thanked Fate for that, and it had nothing to do with his desire to share some of the heavy burden that went along with his title. What made Roman happy was that he’d never be Grant’s superior. They were equals.
