Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (24 page)

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Authors: Timandra Whitecastle

BOOK: Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1)
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Chapter 17

O
n the whole, Nora thought,
it felt good to be busy again. Mind-numbingly good. It gave her hands work to do and made her tired enough to sleep. A few nights ago, Nora had woken from a nightmare, reliving every kill on the Ridge in her silent chamber in the temple. While her shaking hands had tried to light a candle to hold the darkness at bay, she’d wished herself back on the Plains. Safe. Not ever alone. His calm breathing next to her.
Dammit!
she’d sworn. Keeping busy distracted her enough to forget how much she hated Diaz training Shade every afternoon under the watch of that ancient woman warrior, Scyld.

Like now.

She had walked up the long stairs, feet dragging after a long day. And now this. Diaz had said he wouldn’t train her because she lacked discipline. Discipline, ha! As though Shade had more discipline than she had! It was because she was a girl. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on the statue of Scyld so as not to look over and see the half-wight’s face.

A wooden sword skidded toward her feet. The old one-eyed warrior Garreth had knocked Shade’s play sword out of the youth’s hands. The two of them had been running at each other under Diaz’s supervision with large shields strapped to their arms, clobbering the rims of the shields with practice swords and circling one another. Now Shade came jogging up, right hand waving away the pain of Garreth’s hit. He grinned when he saw her. His face was flushed and sweaty despite the cold and the small snow piles that had been swept aside into the bushes.

“Hey, Briar! You mind bending over…and picking up my sword?”

Garreth chuckled and said something to Bashan, who was watching from the sidelines. The prince’s cold eyes narrowed on Nora as though she had brought in something nasty. Nora’s eyes flicked back to Shade’s before they could wander any farther. She wedged the tip of her boot between the cobblestones under the wooden sword and kicked up, and the sword arched into the air so that it was nearly too easy to grab. She twirled it around, a tiny bit proud of herself, and held it out to Shade hilt first, grinning.

“Come and get it.”

Shade, though young, obviously knew enough about women to be on his guard. He looked over his shoulder back at Garreth, Bashan, and Diaz to make sure he had an audience.

“Come on!” Garreth urged Shade. “I’m not gonna stand in the cold all damned day.”

Shade moved to grab the sword. Without thinking, Nora flicked it across his fingers first, and Shade was bent down on one knee before the burning sensation on his knuckles and the dull throb in his knee would tell him he had been hit. Twice. By a girl. He grunted, then stood up.

“Come on, kid,” the old warrior said. He worked out something from his throat and hawked it into a snow pile. “I’m still waiting.”

Nora held the sword at her hip and backed off a few steps. Shade followed. He wiped his brow with his forearm.

“You know the sword is a symbol for a man’s best part?” Shade grinned. “You’re handling mine. So this is kinda like foreplay.”

“What’s your problem, Shade?”

“I’m seventeen years old and just wanna get laid.”

“Learn a girl’s name, then. It’s Noraya.”

“Oh, so that’s what’s holding you back?” An odd gleam entered the gray of the young man’s eyes. “You want to hear me scream your name?”

His shield was up before she could hit him again. The wood banged loudly against the leather coating. Nora felt the reverberation echo in her arm, and her numb hand let the sword go. Shade took advantage and leaned in to grab her wrist, pulling her toward his laughing face. She accelerated the forward movement and jerked her head at Shade’s face as if she meant to smash his puckered lips with a head butt. He flinched and brought the shield up.

That was his mistake. It left his groin unprotected from Nora’s incoming knee. Shade doubled over, gasping for breath, face paling dramatically. Nora knocked his feet from under him and he was down, gargling and rolling onto his side.

Nora scratched her ear and turned away to gaze at Scyld and let Shade have a moment to gather whatever was left of his dignity. She had seen the veins in his throat bulging and thought about how easy it would be to strike a killing blow if she had a real sword. A cut through those veins, a quick stab into his exposed side. She shuddered, remembering what that felt like.

Garreth was wheezing behind her. Bashan clapped his hands twice before turning back to cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his paring knife. Diaz regarded her with one raised eyebrow, then let out a small sigh. The pent-up energy in Nora spiked as Diaz looked away. She clenched her jaw shut and willed her feet to stay where they were.

Shade was breathing hard. But at least he was breathing again. Nora turned back and crouched beside him.

“Still want to scream my name?”

“You’re mean,” Shade croaked.

“You’re stronger than I am, heavier than I am. If I fought fair, I’d never have a chance. So that’s not much of an incentive for me to fight fair, is it?”

She offered Shade a hand and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it, hauling himself to his feet. They stood facing each other. He was about a head taller than her, dirty blond hair tied back into a foxtail. Nora bent down and picked up the wooden play sword. She balanced it on the flat of her hand, offering it to the young man in earnest this time. He took it, his face color improving by the minute.

“There,” Nora said. “We tussled.”

“I’ll remember it on lonesome nights.”

They both grinned, dusting themselves off.

It would be easy to just keep on walking, head past the statue and into the temple. It would be the sensible thing to do. Nora’s feet just wouldn’t move, though. The short confrontation with Shade made her skin tingle. Everything was sharper. The scent of lavender leaves around Scyld’s feet, the empty boughs of the trees outlined against the gray skies, the shine of sweat on Shade’s brow. She clenched her fists and turned on her heels to walk over to Diaz. He arched his eyebrows high as she approached like a storm cloud.

She took a shaky breath and planted herself before him. Nora looked Diaz in his pure black eyes and then slapped him in the face as hard as she could. His head jerked back.

“I challenge you to a duel.”

Chapter 18

T
he satisfactory echo of the
clap of flesh on flesh rang through the courtyard, bouncing off the statue of Scyld. Nora’s hand prickled and stung. She shook her fingers, then curled them into a fist. She imagined Diaz’s cheekbone felt similar. A small red welt was blossoming under his cinnamon skin. He stared at her with those dark eyes. She waited for his reaction, holding her breath.

“I decline your challenge,” he said after a moment.

Wrong answer.

She struck out once more with her right hand, but he caught her by the wrist this time and pulled her close, twisting her arm at a painful angle. She winced.

“Try that again,” he said, “and I will break your arm.”

A mix of triumph and panic made her stomach crawl into her chest as a spasm of anger flickered across his usual poise. A heartbeat later, he pushed her away. She stood, rubbing her wrist.

“You saved my life,” she blurted and grabbed his upper arm as he moved to turn away from her. “You watched me kill all those men. Then you saved my life. You half dragged me here across the Plains, protecting me along the way. And now, not one word? You haven’t even spoken to me once since we arrived. You fucking…half-wight!”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrow.

“You’re…angry?”

“Yeah, I’m angry! You know what they say about the life you save? It’s your responsibility. There’s a connection between us. How dare you save my life only to drop me into the nearest kitchen you could find! Is that what you saved me for?”

He brushed her hand off his arm and squared his shoulders.

“What do you want from me?”

Nora stood her ground and crossed her arms.

“I want you to train me. As a warrior.”

If Diaz could roll his eyes, he would have. It was hard to tell without seeing pupils. Instead, he laid his head back to glance above as though issuing a silent prayer for patience.

“I told you: I’ve given my oath to find the Blade. After that, I might take someone as an apprentice. Maybe it will even be you.”

Nora threw her head back, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

“I never said ‘apprentice me.’ I said ‘train me.’”

“I’m not training Shade.” Diaz pointed at the young man, who flinched behind his shield. “Garreth is. I’m merely assisting.”

“Train me,” Nora repeated. “You and I both know you want to. At least until spring comes.”

She saw him clench his jaw tight. He wagged a finger at her, then shoved her aside wordlessly. He held out a hand to Garreth, who tossed him the wooden sword the old warrior had been leaning on. Diaz caught it in midair and twirled it with a flourish. It was just for show. Still looked awesome. Her heart beat faster. She watched as he drew a wide circle into the scuff of snow on the cobblestones. The scrape of wood on stone was the only noise to be heard, until Bashan smacked his lips.

“You shouldn’t indulge her, Telen,” he said, waving his small knife at Diaz.

Diaz stood upright and looked at Nora. Calm had settled onto his features once more, and she wanted to rake it off with her fingernails.

“You want to become a warrior?”

“I do.”

He tapped the tip of the sword twice against the stones.

“Then step into the circle.”

Nora uncrossed her arms and stepped over the thin line, stopping an arm’s length away from him. He threw the wooden sword back to Garreth.

“No weapons.” Diaz spoke in his quiet, deep rasp. “No breaking bones, scratching, biting, spitting, or anything else that would mar this lesson. That includes vulgar language. Understood?”

Nora nodded.

“If you are pushed out of the circle, the fight is over. If you’re injured, the fight is over. If you wish to end the fight for whatever reason, you must leave the circle. Understood?”

“In the circle, fight. Out of the circle, end of fight,” Nora repeated.

He cocked his head to the side and stood perfectly straight with his hands folded neatly against the small of his back.

“Then come at me.”

Nora licked her lips and grinned. Bashan tutted behind her. Nora gritted her teeth and bent at the knees, fists raised before her face, like every beer-induced brawler she had seen in the inn back at the Ridge. Before they mopped up the blood. It felt stupid. It probably
was
stupid. She stepped to the side. Diaz did not move, though she felt his gaze resting on her. His hands, though, were still folded on his back. She inched closer to his reach. He took her movement in without a flicker of emotion on his face.

As she circled him, he moved with her, making sure she couldn’t reach his back. Nora stopped. She stared into his face. They had changed places now. She stood where he had. He half closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She let her hands drop to her sides. She wasn’t a drunken brawler.

He was within reach. She was in his reach.

She swung her left hand up in a sharp, swift curve. He blocked it with a downward thrust. And her right hand, too. She aimed to chop at his throat with the edge of her left hand, but he leaned back and her fingers slashed the air. His ankle collided with her leg and swept it from under her. She lay sprawled on the cold cobblestones for a moment and watched his boots step away.

“Again,” he said.

Master Diaz stood waiting for her a few paces away. His hands hung by his sides this time. At least they weren’t folded on his back. Nora pushed herself up and stood, measuring the distance between them.

Then she lunged forward. But he was ready for it and blocked again. When his ankle came once more, she stepped out of its path and her own foot slid out to topple him. He jumped over and they jogged away from each other, backing off.

She didn’t wait for him to call her out but attacked as soon as she caught her breath. They exchanged a few blows; he blocked hers with ease, as if he knew what she was planning to do even before she knew herself. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was exhilarating, like a jump from the overreaching branches into the pool in the brook near her home—that moment when you hung in the air, bracing yourself for the cold water below, stomach churning.

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