Page 36 of Through the Wicked Wood

That leaves Jarek and myself. Sitting together outside of Agnes’ home, the sun is shining brightly again today, but the breeze leaves a chill across my bare arms. Jarek has set up to train, and since I have nowhere else to be, I’ve agreed to train with him.

“Have you ever thrown an ax?” he asks, moving a large rounded tree stump several feet away from us. The center of the stump has been painted with a red circle, dents and cuts litter its surface.

Shaking my head, I stand to stretch my limbs. “No,” I admit. “Mostly just dagger work and some with the shortsword but there wasn’t an option for weaponry training when I lived in Valebridge.”

I’m sure it was intentional for the kings of Valebridge to keep weapons out of the hands of Enchantresses. We are powerful enough when our magick has awoken, so I can see now that it was just another tactic to hold us down.

Lucky for me, Cade was willing to train me. His year in the royal guard before we fled Valebridge taught him enough skills that he passed them onto me. Jarek finishes pulling the stump in place before returning to stand at my side.

“Let’s see how you do with those daggers of yours before we get into ax throwing,” he says with a smile. I’m not sure I’ve seen him speak without a smile.

Nodding, I step up to the line he’s drawn in the dirt, leveling my shoulders and unsheathing both of my daggers.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve trained,” I admit, suddenly nervous. His presence looms behind me so I glance over my shoulder. Crossing his arms, he strokes a hand through his short, blonde beard.

“There isn’t any pressure,” he says in his soft, soothing tone. “We don’t have to train if it makes you uncomfortable.”

My heart warms and the nervousness consuming me moments ago washes away. “No,” I say, spinning my daggers in my palms. “I want to.” Jarek smiles again, nodding his head, encouraging me to start.

Turning back toward the target, I close my eyes for a moment. Grounding myself, I press the tip of the blade between my thumb and index finger while listening to the world around me. I breathe in slowly through my nose and open my eyes to find the target. I wait to exhale until the last moment before I throw my first dagger.

It glides through the air, spinning with ease, before it lands just off-center of the target on the stump with a loud thud. A low whistle sounds behind me, glancing over my shoulder Jarek nods in approval.

“Not bad,” he says. “Now this time, angle your right foot slightly above your left.” Frowning, I turn back toward the target and do as he says. Breathing in again, my second dagger slips free and this time hits directly at the center of the target.

A grin spreads across my face as Jarek’s hand lands upon my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m impressed,” he says with another laugh.

“Thanks,” I whisper, unsure how to take the compliment. I walk over to grab my daggers sticking out the stump, smiling as I reach for the one lodged in the center. It takes me a moment to yank it free before I turn back to Jarek. “So how about that ax?” I gesture to the large weapon strapped across Jarek’s back. He smiles, his eyes crinkling as he does.

“Let me show you first,” he says as I step to his side. His tall frame hovers over mine as he reaches back to unstrap his ax from its holster. Squaring his shoulders before spinning the ax in one hand, he somehow looks taller than before. The sweat along his muscled forearms glistens from the morning heat. Without any notice, he twirls the ax handle in his hands again before throwing it with expert precision, landing on the stump with a loud crack, slightly off target.

“Impressive,” I say, clapping my hands together. “But you missed.” Jarek glances down at me and laughs, running a hand down his face.

“You remind me of my youngest sister, Cora,” he says before walking to grab his ax. “She was always the better fighter, the only reason I had the upper hand was because of my size.” Rejoining me by my side, he hands me the ax. It’s large and heavy in my hands, completely unfamiliar. “Your turn, smart-arse, show me what you’ve got.”

Smirking, I step up to the line. It feels good to have a challenge.

* * *

Ax throwing with Jarek proved to be much more difficult than he made it look. I wasn’t able to land the target, even after a dozen tries, but he never laughed. Never made me feel bad about my poor attempts. He only encouraged me to try again, showing me the proper way to hold the weapon while telling me tales of his sister Cora and how her fiery spirit is so similar to mine.

My arms are sore and shoulders tight, but the salve Sam applied after she returned from her meetings has helped slightly.

Now, the five of us sit crammed around the small table by the windows of Agnes’ home. She, according to Sorin, is occupied for the night. He doesn’t disclose where but after the full moon celebration last night, I imagine she’s with Ulric. The two appear to be inseparable.

“Now,” Sorin’s voice is boisterous as he slams a deck of cards onto the table. “The rules of poker are simple.” His eyes find their way to mine as if speaking only to me. We haven’t had much time alone together since last night, and I fight the blush that creeps over my skin from his stare. “First, you’ll need to underst—”

“What makes you so sure I don’t already know how to play?” I cut him off, reaching across the table and snagging the deck from his hands. Sam laughs and Jarek joins soon after. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” The cards glide between my fingers as I begin to shuffle them. Memories of my mother dealing hand after hand, playing into the wee hours of morning.

Sorin smiles in my direction as he reclines back in his chair, tossing his hands up. “I have no doubt of the things you could teach me,” Sorin says, his voice dropping low, snapping my attention back to him. “My apologies for assuming you didn’t already know the game.” He casts me another quick grin before I start dealing out the cards. “But I’m afraid you don’t know our rules,” Sorin continues, “so allow me to be your guide.”

Stopping, I let a card linger in my fingers before tentatively placing it down in front of Galen. Jarek slams a bag onto the table, one I recognize immediately from the day I met Sorin on the river. The contents jingle as Jarek pours the Copenspire guards shillings onto the table. My stomach turns sour remembering that day, and the day after…

“And what are your rules?” I ask, furrowing my brow, pushing past the memories of what I’ve done.

Sam laughs again before taking a slow sip from her tea. “Every time you lose a round or someone calls you on your bluff, you must drop an article of clothing.”

My cheeks heat and my grip on the cards hardens.

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