Page 66 of The Rowan's Stone
“No, I’d know if I heard a lie, right?” he reminds me. “It sounds like she had a pretty rough childhood, similar to mine, and when people like her and me are confronted, we tend to lash out. If something hurts us, we lash out hard, tearing into their weaknesses and shoving them away so we can later reassure ourselves we’re better off.”
Blinking at him, I realize I’ve never gotten his story. “That’s terrible.”
He exhales loudly and gives me a grim smile. “Sometimes, the past isn’t pretty, but thankfully, I’m a long way from that boy.”
“I’m sorry.” My fingers caress his face, wanting to pull the hurt from him, and I sigh. Playing the scene with Meri in my head, I sift for clues, but nothing jumps out. “I’ve never been this angry. I think it hit me harder today because I’ve been upset with Fallon and trying to hide it, along with the pressure over the whole dark Elven ancestor thing. I lost it when Meri added her betrayal on top of it all. She certainly knew what buttons to push.” I peek around at the men standing on the other side of the barrier. “I probably seem like a crazy person.”
“They’ve seen and done worse,” he assures me. Peering into my eyes, he wipes the tears away. “Don’t give up on Fallon just yet. Maybe he’s trying to find a way forward like I did, but no matter what happens, we’ll be here with you.”
39
ARDEN
For the next week, I train harder than ever, pushing my body and mind to its limits, eliminating thoughts or feelings before they have a chance to form. Valerian, Astor, and Daire set up a rotation to train with me, but judging by their expressions, their frustration with my lack of communication and my unrelenting need to keep going is hitting its peak.
Valerian stormed out five minutes ago, roaring his refusal to watch me drive myself into the ground. Without stopping, I sheathe my sword and decide to throw knives for a while.
I think it’s about ten minutes later when Theron strides into the room with a tray of food. He sets it down and motions for me to come eat.
“I’ll eat in a minute,” I call out. “I want to finish practicing.”
“You’ve been throwing knives for three hours, Arden,” he informs me. “You haven’t eaten at all today. Daire even went out and picked up your favorite food from the Italian restaurant.” He folds his arms and waits for me to join him.
Three hours?Shocked, I waver, but I don’t stop. If I stop, I have to think and feel, so I don’t. I hear a door slam and find Theron has left the room.
Five minutes later, the door slams open, and Theron stands there in training clothes—loose black pants and a tight-fitting black shirt. His feet are bare, and he’s holding a magnificent sword. Intrigued, I stop throwing knives and meet him in the middle.
“If I win, you eat,” he proposes, calmly walking over to the mat. “You stop training for a couple of days and let us help you.”
“And if I win?” I ask, biting my lip.
“What do you want?” he asks, separating the sword into two. He swings them both with expertise.
“I want you to set up a meeting with Fallon,” I state firmly.
“Done,” he agrees and attacks.
Where Valerian is brute force and strength, Theron is supple. He moves fluidly around me, giving me no room to maneuver, his swords easily dominating mine. My bursts of magic are quelled quickly without pause, and my swords don’t even get near him. Unlike the others, his impassive face makes him impossible to read or predict.
After three minutes, I’m regretting the hours I spent throwing knives. My arms are quivering, and in a split second, he takes advantage of my weakness and easily disables me. Bringing his swords up in a crisscross, he lays them on each side of my neck. He won in less than five minutes.
Shocked, I stand there, chest heaving and body shaking. Maybe I have worked out too long. I sway, and the sharp blade slices my neck. His violet eyes grow stormy when he sees the thin rivulet of blood.
“Are you done?” His voice is quiet but rough, his emotions barely contained.
“I’m done,” I concede.
He slides the two swords back together and sheathes it in the strap on his back. Yanking me into his arms, he ignores my stiffness and holds me tightly. Running his hands down my back, he commands, “Let it go, Arden. I’ve got you.”
Breathing in the smell of chocolate and peppermint, I close my eyes and let it all go, my body folding into his. Reaching up, I fist my hands in the back of his shirt and hold on with everything I am. After a few minutes, he picks me up and takes me over to the table.
Sitting me down, he hands me a fork and motions for me to eat.
I take a bite absentmindedly. “Clearly, I should be asking you for sword training. Is everyone holding back?” I ask, my brow furrowed. Normally, I wouldn’t question my ability, but my confidence seems to have taken a hit with Meri’s words.
“No. You’re a worthy opponent—unpredictable and kind of a wild card. They work hard when they’re fighting you, and when you beat them, it’s real. And humbling, I hear,” he replies, amused. “But we’ve been fighting for a long time, so we’ve learned a few things, and none of them can beat me with a sword,” he concedes.
He sweeps the hair back from my face.
