Page 85 of Vengeance Becomes Her

PART IV

My retribution may be my ruination, but it is a sacrifice I am prepared to make.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Rhiannon had resolved to let Tristain drive a wedge further between them, it would make things easier when the end finally came. Instead, she’d take comfort in the company of the other women. Kyra seemed more open to her after Rhiannon’s moment of vulnerability the night before, but there was still the unspoken tension lingering just beneath the surface.

With everything that had happened with Delphine and Tristain, it was hard to stay out of her head. But she couldn’t do that, it was making her far too anxious. She was starting to worry that perhaps she was being foolish for thinking she could go up against Silas as Kyra had insinuated. But then again, if he’d been weakened as Delphine stated, then maybe there still was a chance. There had to be.

In an effort to drown out her worries, she channeled her energy into the exercises. Today, they were warming up together then splitting up to focus on their respective weapons. Rhiannon with her sword and daggers, Samara with her bow, and Kyra with double swords.

By the time Tristain was ready for her, she was drenched in sweat despite the chill in the air. “I need a minute.”

Tristain barely gave her enough time to catch her breath. “Begin.” It was the only warning he gave her before he charged her.

His sword hit her arm with a sting that would bruise later. Her frustration pulsed through her, pushing her forward with renewed energy. She didn’t realize at first, but she was out for blood. She charged him, feigning a lunge toward his arm, but at the last minute, she twisted low and slammed her sword into his thigh. The smack that came echoed around the trees.

He dropped his sword and kneeled down to put pressure where she’d hit him. When he looked up at her, his teeth were gritted in pain and his face was reddened. Rhiannon didn’t break his anger-filled glare, nor did she apologize. He bit down on his lip and sucked in a breath as he rose back to his full height. “Is there a problem, Rhiannon? I can’t think of any good reason that that was necessary.”

Kyra stopped pretending she wasn’t listening and lowered her bow, turning toward them to watch the spectacle.

“He speaks.” She flung herarm toward him.

He huffed out a laugh that was anything but humorous, raising his eyes to the sky.

“I don’t know what you want from me. You ask for my affection, you push me away, you want to be what, friends?I’m in love with you!” Tristain was yelling now.

They both stared at each other as the last five words caught up with them. Rhiannon knew he hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud by the pained look on his face. But he didn’t say anything to take it back. He let it sit between them.

When Rhiannon didn’t respond he walked back over to Kyra, picking up with her instruction and leaving Rhiannon to reel in the truth she’d been running from. But she wouldn’t face it, not now. Instead, she took out her daggers and practiced defense maneuvers, sneaking looks over at Tristain and Kyra sparring.

Kyra wielded her swords with effortlessness, her strong, muscular arms handling them with ease. Her moves were smooth like a dancer, balanced and carefully executed. She was giving him quite the workout. While Rhiannon wished she was as skilled, she also took satisfaction in her ability to hold her own against Tristain.

After what felt like an eternity, Tristain returned. He was pure instructor right now, acting as if nothing had happened.

Rhiannon sheathed her daggers and drew the sword once again. She coaxed him with a hand that signaled for him to charge her again.

He complied. His look of determination and focus was more of a challenge than anything she’d ever seen from him. She’d gotten under his skin. She aimed high, he blocked. He lunged out toward her ribs, she spun away at the last minute. They continued on, evading and blocking each other’s advances until they were both breathless and dripping sweat. It had only been a few minutes, but they had come for each other almost as hard as they may have if they were in a real fight. Rhiannon was the first to give in, her frustration mounting to dangerous levels where she felt herself actually wanting to hurt him. She was about to call it when he stopped dead in his pursuit, shock crossing his features and pulling his lips taut.

She lowered hersword. “What?”

“Nothing, we’ll talk later. Get some water.” Tristain pushed his sweat-drenched hair off his face, tipping his head back to drink deeply. He checked that Rhiannon was doing the same from the corner of his eye before refocusing his attention on Samara.

Rhiannon tried to push the odd shift in his behavior to the back of her mind while she watched Samara. She was curious what she could do.

She watched Tristain point out a spot on the tree that he wanted Samara to hit. Rhiannon’s eyes were glued to her as she nocked the arrow and drew the bowstring back slowly. She held it there, carefully taking her aim and then let it loose. The arrow sailed through the air and even from here, Rhiannon could tell that her aim was true. Her jaw dropped open in surprise as she watched Samara smile confidently, lowering her bow.

Tristain patted her on the back, pleasantly surprised by her skill level. Rhiannon’s heart tugged a bit at the memory of when Tristain used to get excited over her progress. Now it was all stiff grunts and commands as they practiced. Despite the twinge of jealousy she felt, she wanted to be supportive. After all, it wasn’t Samara’s fault that they weren’tgetting along.

She trotted over to her. “That was amazing!”

Samara beamed at that. “Thank you, really it was a lucky shot.” She nervously tucked a piece of stray hair that had fallen out of her braid away from her face.

Rhiannon shook her head, her smile shrinking just slightly. “I don’t think so.” She turned toward Tristain. “Choose another target for her. I’m not convinced that was a one-off. Your form looked practiced.” She was trying her best to be supportive, to be a friend. She didn’t want Samara to have to shrink for her sake.

He pointed up to a higher spot on thetree. “There.”

Samara tilted the bow up just slightly to accommodate the higher angle, pulled the string back, and once again the arrow flew directly into the spot that Tristain had indicated. This time, a wide smile splayed across her face. Finally allowing herself to take pride in heraccomplishment.

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