Page 56 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I couldn’t help but feel that I wanted more.
Needed more than what Fintan could offer.
I loved him. And I knew he loved me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Fintan or make him upset with me. I always put his needs above my own.
He pushed me on marrying him constantly, and though I never told him ‘Yes’ I never told him ‘No’ either. That was the people-pleaser part of me.
Fintan insisted that I shouldn’t be doing any training anymore and that I didn’t need to. My muscles began to fill out as my body became more womanly—more attractive—and he urged me to stop training so hard. It’s as if he wasn’t happy that I was doing something I wanted to be doing. I was becoming more confident in my appearance, and I couldn’t help but feel that the prince didn’t like that. Didn’t like eyes prying on me. Fintan wanted me to be attached at his side or in his room, available to fool around anytime he desired, but that was not my mission.
I kept myself plenty busy. I worked with Mage Hand daily, but only in my room. It responded to me without needing to think of anything. It was second nature to me. No one knew about it, and no one could. Occasionally, I would help Cendrin and Sivka in the kitchen too, but only when Kalista wasn’t there.
I spent a lot of time with my father, which only Eryn knew, though Fintan expected. I made sure to see him every single night, despite his pleas to keep away. Each night, I brought him bread, cheese, and clean water. Although he initially resisted my attempts to feed him, it soon became clear to him that I was not going to heed his protests. Father didn’t know what the weapon was, and he didn’t know anything about my real parents aside from them being Royal Fae. I even told him what Mother told me as I held her, and he wasn’t sure. Guess Mother kept secrets from him too.
Day after day, I returned with food, determined to brighten Father’s spirits. I racked my brain, trying to devise different methods to free him from his imprisonment, but the lock that bound his cell was fashioned from silver. Every time I attempted to touch it, a searing pain shot through my fingers, leaving me burned. Eventually, Eryn noticed and gave me a pair of gloves, which provided some relief from the burning metal. Father would not let me use my magic. He feared I would get caught, and I wasn’t exactly the most comfortable wielding it yet—especially indoors. But with Makar’s guidance, my magic started to flourish more naturally. Soon, I would try to use my fire to melt the lock from Father’s cell, but only once I learned to glamour others. I couldn’t have any of the other people down in the dungeons see what I truly am.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and executed a swift kick, sending Eryn tumbling to the ground with a sharp thud.
“Not bad,” she acknowledged, a hint of approval in her tone. “You’re getting better with your defense.”
“Thanks,” I uttered, a touch of pride crept into my voice, but it was short-lived. Eryn sprang back up and delivered a punch to my ribs so hard that I felt a crack reverberate through my side. My breath escaped me in a gasp.
“I said you’re getting better. That doesn’t mean you should let your guard down!” she snapped before hitting me again, this time splitting my lip.
“Shit!” I hissed, pain shooting through me. “Okay! Okay! Just give me a damn second! It’s hard fighting you while keeping him,” I pointed at Makar, who sat calmly peeling an apple and watched my suffering with a bemused smile, “out of my head!”
“Oh, but love, you like it when I say dirty things, don’t’cha?” he winked, and my body heated.
Eryn looked back and forth between us.
“Don’t ask,” I said.
I gave Makar a warning look. There were too many prying eyes around us; otherwise I would have wrapped vines around his body.
We weren’t at our usual training spot. Eryn wanted me to work with different weapons and different opponents, so we came to the courtyard where all the guards and trainees worked out. I had daggers, bow, and arrow down. But she wanted me to use a sword too. Though I knew that would never be a weapon of choice.
A shadow loomed over me, casting an ominous presence that elicited broad, amused smiles from Eryn and Makar. I turned slowly to confront whoever was looming above me, and as I did, I could barely keep my jaw from falling open.
There stood a man of remarkable stature, his physique not plump but instead honed with muscle. He towered over me, a striking—very handsome figure with short, dark black hair and a silver streak that ran along the sides, caught the light. His slightly crooked smile glinted menacingly against his perfect dark skin, and his piercing dark blue eye held an unsettling intensity, while an eye patch obscured the other. Clad in royal armory, his imposing formwas unmistakable. This was the King’s personal guard, and the other Fae I could trust—none other than Gavrin.
“Holy gods,” I whispered in utter disbelief. In a swift motion, he tossed a sword toward me, and it fumbled awkwardly in my grasp, clattering to the ground with a loud thud.
“Pick it up,” his voice rumbled deep and authoritative, demanding my compliance.
I bent down to retrieve the sword, but before I could rise, I felt a sharp kick to my side, sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. A chorus of laughter erupted from a few other guards, men, and women in training. Their laughter echoed through the courtyard as they watched with amused expressions.
“I said, pick it up,” Gavrin repeated, his tone unwavering.
Heat rushed to my face, and a mix of embarrassment and simmering anger coursed through me. I could feel the stirrings of my magic, almost begging to be unleashed. Glancing over at Makar, I noticed him shake his head, followed by a gesture tapping his temple—a silent reminder to keep my shield raised and my magic in check.
With determination, I grabbed the sword and stood tall; the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
Without pausing to give me a moment to gather myself, Gavrin swung his sword at me with practiced ease. I instinctively took a step back, the blade narrowly missing my abdomen.
“What the Hel?!” I yelled in shock as my heart raced.
“Block!” He shouted, followed by another sharp swing aimed at me. Panic surged within me as I stepped back again, confusion clouding my thoughts.
“Block with your sword!” His voice boomed, pressing the urgency of his command into me.
