Obsidian Eyes (8 page)

Monday, 25
^th
July.

rasping solar tendrils blushed the early morning sky with colour. Allie rose and dressed on silent feet, donning cream buckskin pants and her long brown lace-up boots with her dagger tucked in its sheath. She wore a short brown leather corset cut high over her hips to aid movement. With the front busks removed it now laced up the front. Underneath she wore a basic pale cotton top with her favourite slashed neckline.

She slipped out the door and headed for the training room. For a full and bustling school, the walk to the gymnasium lay silent and eerie. The hallways deserted, except for the rare servant scuttling about early morning duties. The only sound came from the click of her boots on the polished slate floor. Allie resisted the urge to keep looking over her shoulder.

She pushed through the solid double doors into the large, brightly lit gymnasium and halted, surprised to find it already in use. Jared and Master Marshall sparred with swords. Since school resumed, she limited herself to early morning or evenings to use the weapons room, not wanting to cause trouble with the male students. She had avoided meeting Jared here since the first day. As she watched the rapid work, it dawned on her that Marshall’s disability in no way affected his ability. He expertly met Jared’s every thrust, and gave the much younger man such a thorough workout that his missing limb was almost unnoticeable.

He would have been formidable with two arms.

Marshall spotted Allie as Jared turned his head to glance her way. Marshall used the momentary loss of concentration to give one powerful parry. He knocked the youth’s sword out of his hand and concluded their bout. He tossed his sword to Jared, who caught it before bending down to retrieve his fallen weapon.

If Jared was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. He walked over to the huge cabinet dominating one wall. The doors hung open, revealing an array of blades. Next to the cabinet ran a workbench where Jared placed the swords.

Marshall waved Allie over. He was tall, powerfully built and still handsome despite being in his late forties with greying hair. Given his age, which put him in the middle of the Napoleonic wars in his twenties, she wondered if he lost his arm fighting Bonaparte. Allie mused; he must have been dashing in his KRAC uniform. The saying about the legendary unit flashed through her mind.
Men run from them, women to them
.

She moved to the centre of the room where there was a long padded mat for close range sparring.

“Jared is still having trouble getting his head around your skill with a blade. Care to show him you can throw as well and really shake up his world?” Marshall gestured with his head toward a target hanging on the wall opposite where they stood.

Allie pulled her dagger from its home next to her calf. She gave it a gentle toss, sufficient for it to rotate above her hand so she could catch it by the razor sharp tip. With only the briefest pause to judge the distance, she hurled the dagger at the target. With a dull thud, it struck home and the hilt wavered as it jutted out from the centre of the target.

Jared’s dark eyebrows shot up and Allie gave him a grin. She walked over and removed the knife embedded through the cork and backing wood.

“Do you carry that around school?” He glanced to Marshall. “It’s against school rules for students to carry steel.”

“Then I am within the rules. This isn’t steel.” There was a momentary impasse as they sized each other up. Her dark eyes met his grey ones.

He frowned. “How can a dagger not be steel? May I see, please?” He extended a hand.

Stepping toward him, Allie placed the hilt across his palm. He balanced it in his hand, feeling the weight of the weapon. Unlike a normal dagger, the blade was a cold black stone with a razor sharp edge and the metal hilt carved with intricate hieroglyphics.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. He ran a finger over the carvings on the hilt, turning it in the light to see them better. “What’s it made of?”

“Obsidian, it’s lighter and sharper than any metal.” She took the dagger from him, careful to avoid touching his warm skin. Her fingers welcomed the dagger back to her hand and she returned the black knife to her boot.

“I’m not sure it’s complying with the spirit of the school rules though, to let you wander around armed.” Jared’s gaze flicked to Marshall.

Marshall cleared his throat. “Allie is a bit of an exception.” He pointed to the open cabinet. “Stilettos today, Jared.”

“The assassin’s blade,” Allie murmured as she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and tossed it to one side.

Jared paused as he returned from the weapons cabinet, carrying two lethal looking narrow daggers. Allie’s skin prickled as his gaze roamed over her form, so well displayed in the close fitting garb.

Marshall outlined the rules for Allie. “First one to the mat, or first blood. I don’t let any of the other students spar with stilettoes; I’m trusting you two to pull your blows. I don’t want the paperwork that accompanies either one of you getting stabbed or maimed.”

Allie rocked back and forth on her heels before sinking her weight. Adopting a fighting stance, she weighed up her opening gambit. She ran through their first bout the previous week and tried to identify any weak spots.

Jared’s gaze regarded her, revealing nothing but calm patience as he waited for her to make the first move.

She leapt, feigned left and thrust right. At the last moment, Jared caught her and shouldered her off balance and down to the ground. She landed on the mat at his feet, running through what happened in her mind. He also learned from their previous encounter. She would have to fight smarter to beat him. He held out his left hand which she grasped as he pulled her to her feet.

“First hit doesn’t count,” he said.

Marshall nodded to himself. “Again,” he ordered.

Time fell into a steady rhythm of movement and counter-movement. Jared blocked Allie’s every move but he gained no ground himself. He often found himself thrusting at thin air as Allie darted around or under his blows. She learned from her initial mistake and Jared had no further opportunity to take the advantage.

As the lesson wore on, Allie’s body tired and she knew she couldn’t beat Jared. He was as fast as her but much stronger. Possessing the greater stamina, he only had to wear her down. A tactic occurred that would exploit what she knew of the young noble. She waited for his next thrust and instead of blocking, she allowed it to continue down. She went with the movement and gasped, putting one hand down as though about to fall.

Jared froze on hearing her cry before he rushed forward. Allie took advantage of his momentary distraction. She swung her legs while her hands balanced on the mat and then swept his feet out from under him. He hit the mat with a crash. Before he knew it, she was on top of him. She straddled his chest with her dagger at his throat.

“Yield,” she said, echoing their first encounter. They both breathed hard as they locked eyes. An electric charge ran through Allie’s body. She was painfully aware of Jared’s torso between her thighs as she held him down.

A flash of rage crossed Jared’s face at her trickery. “You cheated!”

“Point and match to Allie,” Marshall yelled.

Jared’s chest pushed against Allie’s legs with every deep breath, heat spreading up through her body. She jumped off him and held out her hand. He scowled as he reluctantly took her offered palm. The contact ignited the spark again. He stood so close her skin tingled in response to his movement. She took a step back, needing to put distance between them. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and not entirely from the physical exertion.

“She played you, Jared. What have you learned from the encounter?” Marshall asked.

“She used an underhand tactic.”

“No. Honour has no place in a knife fight.” He turned his attention to Allie. “Explain to him.”

Allie took in the black look on Jared’s face. “He’s honourable. When he thought I was hurt his first instinct was to help. Whereas a guild opponent would have ensured I didn’t get up again.”

“Exactly,” Marshall said. “Same time tomorrow. We’ll have a different opponent for you. Now you better run and change, before your morning classes start.”

Allie walked over to the discarded jacket and shrugged it back on. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jared engaged at the workbench. She thought of him pressed under her and the colour edged up her neck. She ran out the gymnasium doors before he noticed.

Jared stood at the workbench and lightly oiled the daggers. He ran the cloth with care along the blades, not wanting to slice a finger open. He undertook the job automatically as he ran through the last week in his mind.

All week he watched the quiet way she moved through the halls and classrooms. Despite the teasing from the other girls she never rose to the bait, choosing to walk away rather than react. In conversation, she held no regard for his status with her gentle banter and whatever her guild allegiance, she fascinated him. When she took his scarf and burrowed into the fabric the urge to protect her punched him hard in the stomach. With the boy’s clothes she wore this morning he could see the way her body swept to the gentle dip of her waist then flared over her hips in a most distracting way. At ease in her skin, she moved in a fluid, feline manner, so alien and different to the rigid formality of the noble girls.

Twice now, he experienced her body hard against him. Sparring with her was a new kind of dance; anticipating where she would feint next, his focus narrowed the world until it contained only her. He found he couldn’t get her dark eyes, or the press of her long legs, out of his mind.

Marshall dropped his hand onto Jared’s shoulder bringing him back into the present. “How goes our puzzle?”

Jared turned to face Marshall, a slight frown wrinkled between his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. “Infuriating. She won’t tell me a thing, except she is no threat to anyone here. Whenever I ask about her guild alliance, she just gives me this little smile.”

“Ouch lad. I didn’t know you were blundering in like that, you’re lucky you didn’t experience first-hand how sharp that black blade is.”

“Allie did make a similar statement,” he admitted.

Marshall picked up a thin stiletto and replaced it on two waiting hooks. “Has there been no hint or sniff of anything?”

Jared thought of the exchange between Allie and Lieutenant Harris, but held his tongue. Something told him what lay between them was personal history, not guild business. He gave a shrug.

“I think my talent is with weapons, not subterfuge.”

Marshall gave a throaty laugh. “It’s a learned skill. Stay close; once she trusts you, she will drop her guard. Kick Duncan out of bed early tomorrow, he’s stronger but much slower. It should make for an interesting match.”

Jared nodded as he placed the dagger back in its spot in the cabinet. He had every intention of staying close.

Classes passed with a dull drone. Later that afternoon, Allie lay on her bed, one arm flung over her eyes. She pondered how she would endure an entire year trapped in the stifling formality and boredom of St Matthews. Not that she had any great regard for formality, but it took effort to act as though it didn’t bother her, being surrounded by so many nobles. At least the training with Marshall offered a small respite in each day.