Page 59 of The War of Wings
Chapter 23
Cal
How long did I have? I supposed the better question was, how long did a dress fitting take? All I knew was I needed to get to the library before Petra was finished with the seamstress.
Even from where I stood on the second story overlooking the training yard, I could see the sweat dripping down Miles’ bare back. A vein popped in his neck, another in each of his temples as he circled the stuffed dummy. Every few steps, he lunged, slicing through the burlap and sending tiny bits of straw floating to the ground.
“Form’s sloppy,” I yelled, and Miles’ attention swung to me.
“Yeah,” he answered, emotionless. A forearm slicked the sweat from his brow as I descended the stairs. He turned his sword over and over in his grip where it hung at his side as he stared at the ground, catching his breath.
I reached behind my neck, pulling my tunic over my head, because I was sure to sweat through it in this heat. I winced asthe fabric ran over the burns Petra had left on my shoulders. They looked like they were going to scar up nicely. In one fluid motion, I pulled my sword from its sheath and took up my fighting stance. “Up for a few rounds?”
“Shouldn’t you be in the library by now?” he asked, still just as emotionless.
“Shouldn’t you?” I retorted. He remained silent. “We have a few minutes.”I hoped.
Miles’ attention snagged on my sword, his eyes narrowing as if he had no idea what I was asking him to do. But he quickly readied himself, bouncing on his toes as we began a dance we both knew well. The foundation to this dance had been laid back in Eserene, when we were both kids, learning swordfighting techniques from Castemont’s guard, Tyrak.
I took a lazy swing that he easily blocked. “How are you feeling?”
“My ass still hurts from that damn driva,” he huffed before lunging at me. I pivoted and matched his blow. “But I’m fine.”
“Okay.” We began to circle each other. “And how are you feeling?” I repeated. My tone was the same. I placed no emphasis on any part of the question. But he knew what I meant.
He was silent for a moment as he wound up for another strike, one which I easily met. “I’m still in control.”
I didn’t want to ask the next question. “Any more…urges?”
“Here and there,” he answered, offering nothing further.
“Does he feel any closer?”
“No.”
Thank the fucking Saints.
“But he feels stronger.”
It felt like someone had dropped a hot coal into my throat. “Fuck,”I strained.
He paused, dropping his sword to his side. “I think he has more drivas. A lot more than we do.”
The fact that Malosym had one driva had terrified me. It had rocked me to my bones with fear, gripped me since the momentI saw the monster’s midnight black eyes. We’d used the fact that Malosym had a driva to bolster our argument and garner aid from Nesan. But the thought that he had more?
Fuck.
And still, the question was never far from my mind. Had Miles led Malosym directly to us?
“She should’ve let me drown,” he said, that emotionless tone back once again. Each word cut like a hot knife through my skin. My brother.
I had no idea how to respond to him. So I sheathed my sword. “We need to get to the library. Petra will be expecting to meet us there.”
“I need a few more minutes,” he murmured, raising his sword again, but this time in pursuit of the dummy.
Rather than argue, I backed out of the training ring and carefully pulled my shirt over my head. I could stall for a few minutes, until Miles got his head on right.
“Remember what you promised me,” he called over his shoulder without turning my way.
