by A. K. Koonce
I wait for him to lead the training. I try not to waste his time. But we’re just standing in silence as he works his jaw back and forth in thought. The silence is tingling through my nervous system and setting me on edge. I have to be at the clinic for work when it opens in less than two hours. When Luca and I train, I’m usually sweating and complaining by now. Waste his time. What a joke.
“Why did you volunteer to train me?” I ask to fill the active silence.
I want to ask what he intends to train. Why hasn't the training started yet? Maybe his little ambush approach was all he had mapped out for the day and he thought I would have already thrown in the towel. But here we stand. Me with a pressing headache and him with a perfectly healed, unbroken nose.
“I…” He pauses looking into the orange sky. The colors reflect and make his eyes appear as burning flames. “I didn’t want to,” he says with a half-smile, his head shaking slightly.
His honesty catches me off guard and I can’t help the way my brows dip in irritation and confusion.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just – Just that I’ve watched Kaino prance around you for a year. A year. That’s an extraordinarily long time to waste with someone you have no intention of helping,” he says quietly without looking at me. His words sink into my mind as I try to follow his meaning. “You’ve addressed your training with Lord Raske several times and every time Kaino just sits there, like a rock waiting to be thrown, waiting to be used in some way. Waiting for your rejection so we can all move on with our day.”
I can’t think of a thing to say in reply and Declan doesn’t allow me to as he continues on.
“I’m not saying Kaino is a bad guy. He’s not. But he shows interest in you because he wants to join with you to better our society,” He stares me dead in the eyes now, “yet he doesn’t even have the courage to help the person who intends to help him.”
His words are spoken softly, bracingly. But they hit me hard. My heart hurts and my stomach sinks as I repeat his words in my mind. Kaino isn’t in love with me, maybe we’re not even friends. Declan is right. How many times has Raske told me I needed a male’s training perspective and Kaino couldn’t even look me in the face when his father dismisses my requests to help the militia?
“So I volunteered, not because I wanted to train you, but because I wanted to help you when no one else would. Because we’re friends and I know what it’s like to not have anyone’s help. Not that I need it,” he says with a wink.
He starts unbuckling his weapons belt from his slim waist and tosses it near the tree line. His sword clatters to the ground when the leather belt lands in the brush.
I nod at his words, trying to dissolve the hurt that floats in my chest. My face is neutral and my breathing is steady once again.
“All my kindness aside,” he says with a smirk, “how about you take off that morbid sword and face me like a man?” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye but it doesn’t fade his arrogant smile.
I unbuckle my belt that hangs loosely at my small waist. The worn leather weights my palm. I feel lighter and more vulnerable without the sword and all that it represents. Like a piece of my vital shelter has been stripped away from me in a rainstorm and I’m left defenseless to the world.
Declan’s eyes light up with pure happiness as the crystal sword is no longer brushing my hip and his brilliant white teeth glisten as a broad smile spreads across his face. I gently place the weapon next to his sword and return to face him.
He pushes his shaggy blonde hair from his face, all seriousness returning to him. “How well can you fight?” he asks, measuring me up and down with a quick look.
Luca and I have covered hand to hand combat briefly but she’s better with knives and other weapons, especially daggers. Our training is the reason I’ve started carrying a dagger, not that I’m the best with it. I think through the few times I have fought hand to hand with Luca and it didn’t go well for me, but I refuse to tell Declan this.
“I’m experienced,” I say, raising my chin. A vague reply, one my mother would be proud of.
Declan closes his eyes and slowly blinks at me. “Our training will only be successful and, quite honestly, will move a lot faster if you’re just straightforward with me, Fallon,” he says my name in a breath and the familiarity of it sends a chill tracing down my spine. I blink the memory back and give a short nod.
“I’m not very good,” I tell him with my head held high, forcing my unsureness from my features.
He nods in understanding and his eyes dance across the dusty ground in thought.
“There’s no shame in that,” he tells me, facing me. “Let’s start with basic self-defense. Raske wanted you trained by a male because males think differently. It’s not sexist, it’s a fact. Physically we’re built different, we use our bulk to our advantage. The majority of combat soldiers are men. Even if you are a female it’s important and beneficial to know how males – the enemy – think.” He’s naming off facts in a lecture like manner and I’m suddenly aware that the hybrid who shamelessly flirts with me is not the same scholarly like warrior that stands before me now.
“Today I’m going to have you attack me and I will slowly show you how to deflect the moves.”
“What if I hurt you?” I ask without much thought.
A smile fills his features and he comes closer to me, leaving less than a foot of space between us. I stare up at him through dark lashes. The burning colors of the sky cast around him like an archangel. “I promise you, I won’t break, love,” he whispers against my hair.
Just when I thought my flirtatious friend had been replaced by a true Wandering Warrior, his breath fans over my face with a voice filled with smooth gravel.
“Similar to the defensive stance you hold with a sword, you will want to keep your feet braced apart, they should be a little farther out than your hips.” I follow his instruction as he speaks and he watches me for error. This is similar to what Luca has said in our past training. “Your stance starts at your feet and your feet are the most significant factor in fighting.” I glance up from my focus on my oh-so-important feet.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Another annoying smile tilts his lips and it occurs to me he might actually be enjoying bossing me around. He may actually like teaching someone his craft.
“Your feet hold your balance. Though your fists hold power, little good they will do if you’re fumbling to the ground after every blow,” he says, pushing my shoulder. He suppresses a laugh when I stumble out of my weak stance. My eyes narrow at him but he continues describing the best defensive stance, ignoring my glare entirely.
We spend about an hour working through and explaining fighting stances. I no longer question what he says and it’s clear to me he has an extensive background in hand to hand combat.
He finishes walking me through how to properly hold my arms while fighting and how to dodge hits without moving my feet and we are now starting in on the actual physical training.
Declan puts one hand against my forehead, angling my head back, holding me to his chest like a hostage, and his other is empty but held at my throat in a mock knife-like manner. His strong body lines up behind my own. He moves slowly, making sure I’m aware of every movement.
Descriptions of every possible weak angle my attacker leaves open while in this position are spoken in a lecturing voice; the obvious exposed torso that provides infinite kill spot possibilities, his head that’s close to my own but a bit too risky of a target considering the mock knife at my throat.
I take note of where his hands are placed, how his body is open behind me, how easy I could take the attacker down.
Then I’m suddenly aware of how his body is pressed against mine.
Sliding his hand from my neck down my arm, he jerks me against him as he walks us backward. “Your attacker may seem in control with how his build dominates over your own but always be aware of what he leaves open. The vulnerable space he’s allow
ing by holding his arms high to manipulate your body.”
My breathing hitches, and for just a moment my heart skips a beat, a shiver slipping over my skin from his touch. Abruptly, I realize how alone I’ve kept myself. It’s like I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held by anyone. Even in the threatening way Declan is intending for this position to be, I can’t help but think how strong his chest and arms feel. How his arms are holding me against him, like a claim almost.
His breath feathers over my damp neck as he speaks. “Fallon, are you listening to me?” he asks, dropping his arms restlessly to his sides and leaning around me to look in my eyes, taking his warmth with him.
Emotions storm through me so fast I can’t keep up. A flush fills my face from how ridiculous my feelings just became. I pull farther away from him before he can see the strange thoughts that are probably written all over my red face. I take a couple deep breaths before walking away altogether and start buckling my sword back to my waist.
“Sorry,” I refuse to look at him, to raise my heat-filled face to him. “I forgot it’s my day to open the clinic. I can’t be late.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him raise his palms at my odd behavior but I still can’t look at him.
“Thanks for working with me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” A nervous smile twitches against my lips as I start to walk quickly toward the camp. “Same time?” I ask over my shoulder. I nod at him even though he’s still looking at me in confusion and I don’t give him enough time to answer my question before I’m hurrying away into the trees.
* * *
The Wanderer’s clinic is the only building in the community that isn’t hidden up high in the trees or deep in the forest. I spend every day here helping and working under Doctor Thierry, a witch in her mid-forties. She seems to appreciate herbal remedies more than magic, a fact that sets me at ease, finally something familiar that I excel at.
She reminds me of my mother for some reason. They have no resemblance really, just two women who are both doctors. I suppose I’m forcing my mother’s absence into physical form. But I can’t help it.
Doctor Thierry’s kind and everyone that walks into the unmarked building loves her. Me on the other hand, they seem wary of. A new face isn’t always welcome when people have been going to the same trusted doctor for all of their lives. But I’m a fast learner and Doctor Thierry always tells everyone how grateful she is to have such an experienced apprentice.
I’m just finishing wrapping an older fae’s leg that had been sliced open on the side of a cliff when Declan walks slowly into the clinic. He’s hesitantly looking around the one room building when his mystical eyes meet mine. I give my patient a small smile when he says thank you, taking the bag of medicine and additional gauze Dr. Thierry gave him. The patient gives Declan a scowl on his way out, a watchful glare thrown toward the hybrid.
In the quietest of growls the fae speaks as if spitting down on the hybrid as he passes. “Pike.”
I flinch, jarred from the impact of the simple but angry statement. Declan appears to overlook the hate slur, his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down in apparent thought. A heavy feeling presses into my chest as I swallow hard, blinking up at him.
The doctor is writing in her large charting book she carries with her and her pencil scratching softly against the paper is the only noise that can be heard in the quietness.
Declan looks out of place in the small white tiled room. His natural light complexion and black shirt and cargo jeans cast severely against the white walls. A dryness consumes my throat and I swallow harshly to clear it. I try to appear busy, cleaning up the old bandages and wiping down my table.
Dr. Thierry’s head slowly tilts up, seeming to feel the anxious silence all around us. A look passes from me to Declan, waiting to hear what he needs.
“Could I, um- Could I speak with you for a minute?” he asks, finally looking at me. He shifts his stance, finding his confidence again.
A nervousness fills my body, tensing my shoulders and limbs and settling into my sweating, unoccupied hands. I shouldn’t have overreacted about our training this morning. He was trying to help me and my mind went to a place it hasn’t wandered to in so long, I had forgotten it even existed at all.
I glance to Dr. Thierry and start to ask if I can take a five-minute break but a look crosses the women’s thin, smooth features. A strange, happy, knowing look. She looks Declan’s lean body up and down before standing abruptly from her desk, the legs of her chair scraping against the tile. “Fallon, I’m going to run out to our storage and see if I can’t find a few old files I’ve been meaning to update. I’ll put the board back over the door while I’m gone so no one comes in. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.” She says as she flitters through the room with a cheerful smile.
I’m left gawking at her from my seat. She gives Declan a pleasant smile when she passes, pushing her wire rim glasses up her pert nose and walks right out the door. The thud, as the board that covers the abandoned looking building falls into place behind her, is the final note in her bizarre performance.
“That was strange,” Declan says, his brow creased as he looks over his shoulder at the door.
A quietness settles over us again. I’m basically locked in a room with the last person I wanted to see again today and I have no idea what to say to him. He tilts his head and takes a look around the tiny space before his eyes settle back on me. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ve never actually been in here,” he says nodding to himself. “It’s… cleaner than I expected.” His gaze appraises the shining floor and the small organized desk I sit at.
“It kind of has to be,” I say, trying to fill the void of silence “Risk of infection and all.”
He nods in agreement, with a little too much enthusiasm. I can’t think of a thing to say but I also can’t stop looking at him. The sharp angles of his face. His hair that constantly threatens to spill into his light eyes. The way his jeans hang loosely on his lean waist. I glance away at the last thought.
Why am I being so weird around him? Get ahold of yourself, Fallon.
He licks his lips and walks close to my table. The pen I’m holding falls to the floor with a small clicking sound. I don’t pick it up but the noise of the plastic hitting tile clings in the silent air.
“I – I wanted to talk about this morning.” He pauses, waiting for any recognition in my face but all I provide is a blank stare. Willing myself not to speak. “I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, or if I hurt you.” Again, he waits for me to respond and once again I offer nothing. “If I brought up old memories of how Luca found you. Of the night you got that scar. Of how we met…”
Concerned eyes search my face for confirmation, catching every detail of emotion I reveal. I open my mouth but say nothing. Instead, I cross my arms and secretly trace my fingers over the jagged line that etches over my ribs.
Memories of all the times Asher held me to him, safety enveloped around me as his strong arms pulled me against his chest. The night I got this scar, the night Luca found me, the night it all fell apart, Asher held me the way Declan did this morning. Like he’d never let me go. Like I’d never have to fear a world without him in it.
My throat bobs at the thoughts that involuntarily flood my mind. I force another dry swallow and keep my eyes on the floor instead of facing him.
“You didn’t scare me, Declan. I’ve been in combat before, combat I wasn’t prepared for, but I’m not that dying girl you saved a year ago.” He tilts his head to try to meet my eyes but I shift in my seat until I’m angled away from him. “I just didn’t expect to actually appreciate what you had to teach,” I say a bit honestly. I have to give him an answer and this is as honest as I’m willing to be. “I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re a great teacher and I hope you’ll continue teaching me.”
A steady breath slips through my lungs, calming and reassuring, and I force myself to smile up at him. A loo
k of false happiness etched into my straining features. His head tilts slightly and a beat passes between us before he finally nods. My stomach jars within at his easy acceptance. My pain magnifies internally while I keep my lips turned up in a sad smile—a look I’ve seen the hybrid give others countless times.
Chapter Four
A Proposal
Declan keeps his word and continues to teach me hand to hand combat over the next couple of days. Muscles I didn’t know existed ache throughout my body. My legs wobble beneath my steps. My arms shake when they lift from my sides. My sides that protest with every movement. A good sign that Declan’s doing his job. I still continue to avoid the nightly celebrations the best I can. Luckily, Kaino hasn’t ventured out to drag me to one, either.
It’s a rather nice routine I’ve settled into, actually. Every morning just before dawn I train with Declan, keeping my emotions placid and my attention on my own body. In the afternoon I work at the clinic, filling my time even though it is incredibly slow. I guess that’s expected when the majority of the population heals themselves. And in the evenings I eat dinner with Luca. It’s boring but simple.
I’m just smirking to myself as I send a strike to Declan’s jaw, which he dodges, as easily and annoyingly as he does every day, but I catch him off guard and he stumbles to the dirt, flat on his back. Achievement washes over me. Maybe I didn’t land the punch but my surprise attack paid off. It’s so rare that I ever get the upper hand on the hybrid that the adrenaline from my minor success overtakes my thoughts. Happiness and pride burn through my veins and I can’t help but close my eyes and smile into the warm sunlight as sweat trails down my neck.
Within moments, my feet are kicked out from under me and I land hard on my side right next to him, dirt flying up all around me. Sharp pain floods my limbs and jars my teeth.
