Page 69 of Ocean of Ink
“Everyone, make a circle around the training grounds. Be at least seven paces apart, and have your swords at the ready. For those who don’t own a sword, obtain one from the weapons rack,” Ivanhild boomed after he finished talking to the three circling him.
Wren walked to the weapons rack with a handful of other students. She did not wish to own a weapon, but she hated walking to the weapons rack for each class. It felt shamefulsomehow that she was the sister of a Gifted warrior and didn’t have her own sword. She set her school bag behind the rack with a sigh, then chose a sword at random.
Hilt in hand, Wren took a position between two other students. She watched as Kierana, Cyprus, and Castien began moving about the circle. They would nod to certain students, speak to others, and direct others with light touches. Wren went into the stance she had learned in the first class when Kierana approached.
“Make sure to widen your feet so your weight is balanced,” Kierana told Wren. There was an authority to her tone that made Wren think Kierana was honored to be chosen for this task.
Wren separated her feet more. Kierana nodded in approval, her joy settling over Wren like a warm blanket, then moved on. Was that it? Wren smiled to herself. Perhaps she was better off than she thought. Heron would be proud. A pang of grief pulsed through her. She wished he were here. He’d be strolling around the circle, somehow making everyone laugh while helping them become better.
Cyprus came next. He offered Wren a gentle smile. She felt a spark of nervousness come off him. He must not feel as confident as Kierana.
“Lower your shoulders and relax into the stance.” Wren followed his instructions. “Good, that will help you stay fluid in battle.”
Wren nodded and refrained from saying she didn’t plan on being inbattleany time soon. Or ever. Though she supposed dealing with council politics would feel like being at war.
Castien approached. Wren dropped her gaze. She couldn’t look him in the eye after being so vulnerable in her last letter.
A short gasp escaped her as the flat of Castien’s blade pressed under her chin and lifted her face.
“Eyes up, Kalyxi,” Castien murmured. “You need to be able to meet your enemy’s gaze.”
His dark eyes were whirlpools of shadow pulling her in. She swallowed, her throat dry.
“Lift your elbow,” he continued his assessment in a low tone. She obeyed. “Good. Tighten your abdomen. Think of pulling in and up.”
Her brow furrowed, but she did as commanded. She felt the change in posture immediately, along with a strange pulse of warmth she didn’t understand.
Castien took a step back and held his sword out. “Attack me.”
Wren shook her head. “That wasn’t a part of the assignment.”
Metal clashed against metal across the field. Kierana batted away Finn’s blade with her own.
Castien raised a brow, and Wren sighed. She lunged forward, hoping to catch him off guard by not giving her agreement first. She was not successful. Castien swiped at her sword hard enough that it was ripped from her hand and clattered to the ground. Wren’s face burned as she dipped down to get it.
“Back into your stance,” Castien ordered.
Wren gritted her teeth, but did as he said. She kept her stance wide, her shoulders down, elbow lifted, and chin up. Her gaze locked onto Castien’s right as she drew in her core. That odd feeling of something warm curling through her came back. It wasn’t from him. He was stoic and unreadable as ever.
“Shift your weight onto your back foot so that you can spring forward more easily. Be sure to grip your hilt tightly. The movement should be in your wrist and arm, not hand.”
Wren nodded and settled her weight onto her back leg. She bent her knee slightly as well.
“Try again.” Castien’s voice was low and gentle. He didn’t bark commands at her, but he didn’t say more than was necessary either.
Wren pushed forward again. This time, her sword stayed in her hand, but Castien still easily pushed her back. Her arm already ached from holding the stance and taking two hits to her blade.
“I am not made for this,” Wren mumbled her thoughts aloud.
A ghost of a smile crossed Castien’s lips. She thought she felt a flicker of warm amusement, but she couldn’t be sure. She found herself second-guessing every feeling around him.
“You are what you make yourself, Lady Kalyxi. You can be a fighter if you want to be,” Castien said before walking to the next student.
Castien’s words burrowed beneath Wren’s skin. They dug down deep into her heart, where her darkest thoughts resided. The ones that said she was nothing but a broken doll with no one to love her.
A fighter.She’d been a great many things. Victim. Tainted. Broken. Lost. On her best days, she thought herself a survivor. But a fighter? She shook her head. That word didn’t fit in with the others.
“Lady Kalyxi,” Ivanhild’s voice shook Wren from her contemplation. He stood before her, arms crossed, brows raised in expectancy.
