Page 120 of Obsidian Throne
When the meeting was done, I practically fled the room without looking back.
I went to find Andrei, telling him about the plans to train and getting his input. We talked for a while about who might make the best trainers, trying to choose someone from every band.
The men were raised as soldiers, but it was important to hone those skills if more battles were coming.
Finally, Taras came to let us know the training yard was free.
Before sparring myself, I walked around assessing them and sorting them into groups. They weren’t as militant as Evander’s men, not as used to moving in sync as a unit anymore, but they fought with an unrelenting vigor that made up for it.
A surge of pride went through me. It was no wonder we had been as successful as we had in the battle.
I felt Evander before I saw him, just as I always did. He strode across the grounds, his scrutinizing gaze landing on the men, and then me.
“Skilled and brutal. It’s a good combination for war.” It was a compliment, so I nodded.
Then, steeling myself, I turned to him. “Spar with me.”
He raised his eyebrows, this time in a question.
I sighed. “I want to get better with both blades. And not to make that giant head of yours any bigger, but we both know that you’re the best person for that job.”
Sure enough, his lips tilted up into a milder version of his usual arrogant smirk, though it was still shadowed with everything that was between us.
I hated that this was hurting him, too.
As if he sensed the thought, his eyes shuttered, but his mouth was still pulled into a half grin when he responded.
“I am ever at your service.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
EVANDER
Sparring with Rowan was either a very good or a very bad idea.
On the one hand, she was right. I was the best person for the job.
On the other, I had meant what I said last night. I would support her in literally anything that she wanted to do, except die. It wasn’t that a part of me couldn’t understand what she was saying about choices.
It was that there wasnopart of me that could stand back and do nothing while she was in a position to be hurt.
I didn’t know where that left things, except that there was an endless chasm between us, one that was infinitely more painful whenever I was near her.
Then again, being away from her was just as excruciating. Hence, the mixed feelings on sparring.
Rowan took a moment to stretch, and my mind flew back to the first time we did this.
Her crimson braid had been messier than it was now, her jade eyes not nearly as guarded.
It was impossible to forget how breathtaking she had been, standing in a sparring ring in a dress meant for dancing, staring me down without a trace of apprehension.
How she had taken me off guard with her bawdy joke. How desperate I had been to know her better, even as I searched in vain for reasons to hate her.
How even then, I had wanted her to improve, because even then, the thought of something happening to her had filled me with unreasonable, unbridled panic.
Wrenching myself back to the present with considerable effort, I went on the attack without warning, as I always did.
And as she always did, Rowan reacted instantaneously. Her reflexes were quick, and her instincts were solid. If she had been the size of a man, she would have been better than most of my soldiers.