Page 72 of Of Blood and Banes
The two guards at Darian’s side step away after Sethan gives them a nod. Darian snatches the wooden rod off the ground, his eyes trained on Sethan. When he rises, he snaps the rod over his knee, the crack splitting through the clearing and creating two wooden rods with jagged edges. “Let’s see if your legs run as fast as your fucking mouth.”
My pulse leaps into my throat as Darian strides into the center and everyone else falls away silently.
Archie watches with wide eyes. “That…doesn’t seem like a fair fight? Darian’s still manacled?—”
Melaina rests a hand on his arm, as if he might spring into the circle himself. “Don’t. You might be surprised. My father might not want to admit it, but age has slowed him. It might be as fair of a fight as any. Let them work it out.”
It still doesn’t convince me. Because while Sethan agreed in the blood pact not to kill him, we never specified he couldn’thurthim. But as Darian strides closer to Sethan, confidence exudingfrom each step and swing of his shoulders, I begin to question my concern. If the chain connecting Darian’s wristlets were only a foot apart instead of a generous two feet, it might be enough of a limitation for an easy loss. But it’s not a one-foot-long chain.
And it’s Darian.
Considering the way Darian glowers at Sethan, I can’t find any guarantees Darian won’t try to kill him. The cracking whip Corvin drove down against Darian’s back the night he was held in the dungeon replays in my mind. At the time, I thought Sethan was only desperate to get answers. And maybe he was. But there’s an extra layer to it. Something that has soured with time. A hatred rooting deeper and deeper from both sides. It’s impossible to miss now.
Darian swings out first, though his range of motion is limited due to the chain connecting both of his manacles. Despite the disadvantage, he moves with confidence, grace, and lethality. Sethan catches Darian’s strike with his rod before sweeping it to the side and stabbing toward Darian’s chest. Darian blocks his attack with his opposite hand and then twirls his other rod to thwack Sethan on the side of the head.
Sethan seethes, thrown off a few steps as his lips twitch up into a silent snarl. They explode into whips and spins, striking and swiping. Darian ducks, dodges, and jumps, avoiding each of Sethan’s attacks. A few moments in, and Sethan’s heavy panting is nearly as loud as the wood cracking as their poles connect. Darian’s only wearing him down. Playing with him.
Darian finally smacks Sethan’s pole down from his chest with one hand, spins, and rears back onto one leg, kicking Sethan straight in the chest and sending him flying back. Sethan lands and skids across the ground a few inches. Darian tosses the poles at Sethan whose chest rises and falls quickly as he fights to regain his breath.
“You’re lucky I don’t fucking kill you,” Darian spits at the ground and stalks out from the circle.
CHAPTER 25
A LESSON IN BARGAINS
Later that night, after we join the town in their community hall for dinner, we’re led to our own quarters. The residence designated for Cyrus in this town is no different than the last. Lush, intricate stonework on the outside and lavish furnishings on the inside. And a peculiar set of restraints adhered to a far side of the wall.
Hereallymusthave had anger issues.
Sethan’s soldiers escort Darian into the room and hook his restraints into the wall, before leaving the two of us alone in an awkward silence. I swallow the memory replaying in my mind of a shackled Darian fighting against Sethan andwinning.
“What?” Darian grumbles, his eyes narrowing in on me.
I clear my throat, shifting my attention to my feet and tapping the bedpost with the tip of my boot. “The way you fought Sethan…”
“Go on.”
I sigh, looking up at him and crossing my arms over my chest. I can’t admit I was impressed or that such a theatrical event nearly gave me a heart attack. Even with the blood pact, it only meant Sethan couldn’t kill him. But what if heinjured him enough to knock him into an indefinite state of unconsciousness? What then?
Darian’s eyes darken, and a smug tilt lifts his lips. “Ahh, you were impressed, weren’t you? Or were you scared for me? Either way, I appreciate the sentiment.” He laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back against the wall as he watches me.
“No. It’s just…” I duck my head, fighting to get the words out and debating about dropping the conversation entirely. Gritting my teeth, I take a full breath before asking, “Do you think you could train me?”
He snorts. “What’s in it for me?”
“Well, what do you want?”
His gaze floats up to the ceiling in a playful thought before he tilts his head to the side, regarding me with that haunting, predatory gaze.
“Within reason,” I blurt before he can get ahead of himself.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun. I was about to request a bathtub full of gold?—”
“As if the royal houses don’t have enough?”
“It’s a joke.” His voice dips to something lethally quiet. “Like I give a shit about money.”
“Well then, whatdoyou give a shit about?”
