There were two days left until Aver begun, and Marina’s lessons were ending. For all of Daniil’s prattling about the godai, he worked her hard, increasing her strength and stamina without exhausting her. Even though she felt, more sleep should have been on the table. Marina was grateful her mother had developed such an obsession with helping her cure her panic attacks. If she hadn’t, Marina wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell in making this work.
Daniil’s training made her faster, stronger and more in tune with her body, mind, and spirit than ever before.
Her hair was growing at an alarming rate too, as if it sensed it was needed. It brushed her ears, and though at times Pasha had to psychically wrestle her for the scissors so she didn’t cut it, Marina’d caught Koen staring at it as if willing it to grow, his hand twitching. He liked long hair, so she had been making an effort to grow it, and not hate every second of it.
Shoving everything aside, that day, Marina learned how to correctly attach a saddle to a stunning wild dragoness’ ruby hide. The young dragon had the most expressive eyes and pleasant temperament Marina had ever seen. It soothed her deeply, and by the end of the lesson, she was in a much better humor. Her equilibrium had returned, and she bounced around the courtyard with a smile on her face, even though Koen had left without talking to her.
His departure hadn’t upset her because he’d sent her a gift by way of a servant of House Raad.
Koen had sent her a full set of undergarments and robes for her to train in. Ebony silk with emerald medallions embossed with the Raad crest woven into the heavy fabric.
Marina ran back to her room to put the new clothes on and paraded back outside with her head held high, feeling like the queen she fought to become. She twirled in front of Daniil, showing off her gift, beaming, with all thoughts of assassins, and jealousy gone clean out of her.
Daniil kept smiling widely at her, but darting worried glances over her shoulder at where Katya was.
Marina stopped spinning long enough to send a gloating look at the other Chosen.
Her face dropped.
Katya was sparring with the other First Chosen whose name Marina could never remember, and they too wore black robes with the Raad crest.
The blood slowly drained from her head, and there was a loud buzzing in her ears. “So … it wasn’t just a gift for me,” she said in an odd voice.
“Marina.…” Daniil said slowly, reaching for her with a consoling expression, an excuse already forming on his lips to placate her.
Marina’s cautiously constructed tranquility dissipated. Desperate confusion merged with a scorching hurt that seared her heart in painful lacerations. Smothered. The clothes were smothering her. The broiling anger rose up like a poisonous cloud to run through her veins like lava.
She exploded.
Flushing with embarrassment, she spun on her heel, dragging off the top as she walked, flinging it away with a strangled shriek.
“Marina!” Daniil hissed, crouching down in mid stride to snatch it up. “Be calm.”
“Don’t defend him,” she yelled. “He treats me like a stranger.”
He reached for her, but she danced back. “He mustn’t show preference. He gets you a gift, he gets them all a gift.”
“The same gift? The same fucking gift! I don’t need that. I hate it. I hate him.”
Ignoring him, and the stares of the other Chosen training in the courtyard, she fumbled with the tie to the trousers. Her heart pounded, and tears blurred her vision. The pain was choking her. The stress and discomfort of the last few days overwhelming.
She just wanted the ‘gift’ off her body.
Marina pushed the trousers down and flung them away from her, furious when Daniil collected them up too.
Dressed only in her undergarments and boots, those too from house of Raad, Marina readied herself to rip them off, but large hands came down on hers. She shuddered and shrank back on herself, hating the knowledge that she was making a babyish spectacle of herself, but too angry to care enough to stop.
This neurotic mess wasn’t her.
Crying, she looked up to see Daniil staring at her with a grieved expression.
“Stop,” he whispered.
At first, she scowled at him, furious that he would interfere with what she wanted to do. He held her gaze, calm and collected, not flinching when she snarled at him. After tense seconds, Marina gathered enough of her wits to not fling his kindness back in his face. She looked around, and met the startled gaze of a few people, seeing disapproval, and even pity in their stares.
Lip quivering, she hung her head in shame, and dashed from the courtyard. She’d given them another story to bandy about in court, fueled slanderous gossip that she was nothing but a spoilt princess using familial and political ties to bring about what she wanted. She had created yet another scandal for her House, and they didn’t deserve it.
Marina was messing up. Badly. The thing was, she couldn’t put her finger on why.
Chapter 20
Marina stormed into her room and slammed the screen closed as hard as she could. It slid smoothly to a soft close. After a pause of revulsion, she made a coarse noise of frustration when anger still churned in her gut. “You can’t even slam a damn door properly in this fucking hell hole.”
She finally ripped the undergarments off, getting tangled up in the wrap around design, cussing furiously as she scratched her skin. With the cloth in her hands, bunched up, she resisted the urge to tear the damn thing to shreds.
She deflated.
Eyes closed, she shook her head slowly as her whole body wilted.
“What am I doing here,” she muttered. “Standing naked in the middle of my room babbling to myself. I must be insane, no man is worth this.”
The answer in her mind was immediate; Koen is not a man, he’s a dragon.
She dropped the clothes, and dragged the heavy chest from under her bed to ruffle for something else to wear. She tugged on a plain linen shift.
Marina sank down on her rickety bed. Crossing her legs, she placed her hands on her knees, thumb and forefinger touching, the other three fingers extended. She straightened her back and inhaled.
Daniil had taught her about ku from the very beginning, but Marina struggled with the fifth godai, the one that embodied a person’s creative spirit. He had encouraged her to mediate, but she found it too still, too still annoyingly passive. She wanted to fight, to feel the flex of her muscle and the flux of her lungs. She wanted action and movement, but Daniil had told her she would never find the inner peace to access that pure energy inside of her is she couldn’t learn to be still.
Maybe now wasn’t the best time to try, but hopefully the meditation would calm her down to her core, rather than just on the surface, and bring her answers. She needed to lock onto her purpose, remind herself why she was here, and why she was capable of being in Aver.
Yes, the meditation was supposed to help calm and centre her. She was supposed to stop feeling the pressing urge to find a dragon lord named Koen Raad and use her newly acquired skills to kick the shit out of him. It was supposed to quell images of her holding a smug faced Katya down, cutting all her hair off, and madly dancing around with it clutched in her fists.
Marina exhaled loudly, her chest collapsing, and in sucked in another breath to hold it.
Daniil was going to be so pissed off when she reemerged. He would be mean too, probably made her walk over hot coals or some such to teach her a lesson. He was too good at coming up with punishments that were horrible, but strangely useful in other situations. Or he would be incredibly sweet and understanding, holding her as she cried herself out. She could use someone to hold, to touch, right then.
The slap of a barefoot made Marina stiffen, and stop the movement of her head mid turn.
The cold steel of a blade pressed to her throat.
In that moment, she saw a myriad of images flash before her eyes. It was strangely calming that most of them were of Koen.
“Move, and you die.” The words were spoken harshly in a strange accent.
Why was the assassin hesitating? Why did he wait to complete his mission? He must be a man of great skill to have come this far. To have passed all the guards and dragon lords that frequented the ateliers to reach her room, the room of a high princess no less.
How had he gotten pass her guardian, Nikolai? Marina had to admit she had been not overly concerned of her safety even when she learnt people were trying to kill her. After all, Nikolai was watching out for her.
Where the hell was he now?
Brat!
Well, it looked like other First Chosen were about to win.
Bitches.
Terrified, feeling an attack of panic beginning to crawl all over her, Marina opened her eyes slowly, expecting the slice of pain at any moment. As her throat was ripped open, she wanted to look upon the one who was about to take everything from her.
She wanted to see death.
Her reaction upon opening her eyes was utter disbelief.
A scrawny, scrap of a boy dressed in brown rags stared back at her. Coltish. His small face was covered in streaks of dirt and his skin mottled with bruises. His lip had recently been split. Beneath the filth, and the feral expression on his face was the breathtaking beauty of the boy. His hair was matted and clumped with foul smelling mud, but she could glimpse a glorious head of blonde locks. His face was perfectly symmetrical, and dominated by two large dark eyes. His cheeks were hollow, his neck and torso horribly gaunt. The corners of those magnificent eyes were pinched, and his frail wrists trembled as he held the knife to her jugular.
Her impending panic attack faded away the longer she studied him.
He continued to stare, as if he weighed his conscience and the task of ending her life.
The silence was too much for her to take. As much as she could stare into those agonized eyes for hours, for they truly were striking, she was never a patience person. Maybe she could talk him out of this.
“Why are you hesitating?” she asked. Her concentration wobbled as her eyes swept over him again. He was so thin, and his dirty feet looked massive. Her gaze softened, and flicked up to his face that was now uncertain. “You need food. I can call for some–”
The edge of the knife dug deeper into her skin, cutting her off. Blood was drawn, it trickled down her neck, and reminded her of how close to death she was. Marina would’ve sighed if she thought the small movement wouldn’t result in unnecessarily speeding up her imminent throat slitting.
“No,” he rasped. “Call no one. Call out and you’re dead.”
“Well, I figure I’m dead either way. At least if I shout they might catch you and bring you to justice.”
The thought of anyone harming another hair on the child’s head despite the fact her blood would be on his hands was enough to make her feel psychically sick, but he didn’t need to know that.
“They won’t catch me.”
Marina raised an eyebrow at his confidence. “I’m a princess. Daughter to Mikhail, a phoenix. You can’t think–”
“I know who you are, but that does not change the fact that they will not catch me. I have been trained well.” The boy’s thick accent was made even more peculiar by the listless, dead way he spoke.
There was something familiar about his inflection.
His eyes burned in the darkness, too mature and knowing to be those of a child. Whatever this boy had been through, life had taught him cruel lessons, crueler than most adults had to face.
Around his neck were shadow scars of rope marks. The same could be seen around his ankles. Red welts ringed his wrists, as if he had been fighting shackles.
“If you know who I am then you know I’m a good person,” Marina hedged.
“What does that mean to me?”
She ignored his question. “I ask again, why are you hesitating?”
He paused then whispered. “I have done bad things, but I believe the goddess will forgive my evil. I was forced. The people I have killed have been bad too, but I feel your goodness. I will burn for this.”
“No,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “They will burn. I promise you that. I know a dragon who knows a dragon and let’s just say there will be nothing left but scorched earth when he’s through.” Her voice turned hard at the end. Nobody who made a child suffer like this was worth anything more than contempt and a swift death.
The boy’s desolate face smoothed. “You want me to think you would help me.”
“Do not think it. Know it.”
He bit his lip. “I can’t let you live. It’s you or me. I choose me. If it were the other way around you would do the same. You wouldn’t think twice.” He sounded so sure of this statement, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter, as if begging her to deny it.
Taking a gamble, Marina raised a hand and knocked the knife away from her throat.
The child assassin slid back, raising the knife and lowering to the floor with catlike agility.
She recognized the move from Daniil’s instructions.
“At ease, my little ninja. I’m not going to hurt you. I had to get the blade away from my throat so I could take a full breath.” She shot him a look. “You wouldn’t want me to faint now, would you?”
He remained in his scary crouch and his face contorted in confusion. “Why do you not call for help?”
“They might get the wrong idea. Seeing as you’re waving a knife ten times the size of your own head at me. There was an attempt on my life not too long ago. I suspect since then the guards are on pain of death to keep me safe, so, I think they would kill first and ask questions later.”
The boy snarled. “They failed.”
“They really did, didn’t they? But somehow I think you could find your way in anywhere if you were determined to.” Ignoring his edginess, Marina yawned, and stretched. When he remained on guard, she slumped. “Put the knife down.”
Slowly, he lowered the weapon to his side. He really was a pitiful sight, but so strong, and proud. From the dark blotches on his body, he’d been beaten repeatedly and for prolonged periods, but she was contented to see his spirit wasn’t broken.
He studied her back, and all of a sudden, his mean face took on a look of the lost.
Marina allowed her sigh to escape this time. He was so suspicious. “You’re safe here.”
“No,” he said quietly. “When they learn of my failure they will kill me, and send another to complete the task I could not.”
She cocked her head. Marina had nix intention of dying so easily, but his words affected her. “Would dying at my side be so bad?”
He started. “At your side?”
“The moment you let me knock the blade away you switched sides. You became my responsibility, and I take the word seriously. My mother taught me that if you treat responsibility as an honor instead of a burden, no matter how much is forced upon you it will never become too much to bear.”
Marina blinked. She remembered that saying from her childhood, and wondered how much more Empress instruction her mother had subliminally pumped into her.
The child assassin looked at her like she was crazy. It was similar to the look Daniil gave her when she’d said or done something to make him think she was completely barmy. “What’s your name?” she asked.
His chin tilted proudly “Boy.” His witchy eyes dared her to laugh.
She drummed her fingers on her knee. “Boy,” she repeated solemnly, as if giving this name deep consideration. Inside, Marina’s gut tightened with fury. He wasn’t given a proper name? “Nothing got by your old masters, huh? I suppose it’s adept. You are, after all, a boy.”
“You can give me another name,” he offered reluctantly. “I’m your slave, it is your right. If it pleases you.”
Marina was appalled. “You’re not my slave. When I said you were mine, I was talking about the responsibility of your life and welfare. Not that you are my property, though I will protect you now like I would
anything precious.”
The earth should have started shaking she was so shocked. Another epiphany. Marina finally understood how Koen could say she was his yet not mean to make her a possession.
“Precious,” Boy echoed, his rasping voice caressing the word. His pale face tightened in suspicion.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven,” he replied.
Marina rubbed her face tiredly. She was close to tears, but didn’t want to startle him with a big emotional outburst. She sensed he would be frightened by it, and the child had probably seen enough violent outbursts to last a lifetime. She’d had enough for one day too.
She touched her neck, and her fingers came away with a watery smear of blood.
Glancing out the window, she did a double take.
Sunset.
She hadn’t realized she had been meditating for so long. Dusk was nearly over, and though she vaguely remembered Pasha coming in to check on her, she had obviously sensed Marina’s need to be alone, and had left her.
On the side was a wooden tray with a bowl of sticky rice and a jug of wine. A plain silver goblet for the wine had the Zar crest embossed into the metal. Where on earth Pasha got such things Marina would never know. Was she smuggling them out of the palace to try and slowly furnish Marina’s room with luxuries?
Crazy, foolish, wonderful old woman.
“Are you hungry, Boy?” His eyes darted to the tray of food and his belly rumbled. He said nothing, but the second loud rumble was answer enough. “Bring me the tray, please.” He tucked the knife away on his person so quickly, Marina had to convince herself she hadn’t imagined its existence. He grabbed the tray, and brought it over to her, bowing as he presented it. She patted the bed in front of her. He cautiously slipped onto the bed and set the tray down. When he didn’t move, she motioned to the food. “Eat.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, his hand moved slowly to pick up the plain wood chopsticks. Satisfied she wasn’t going to stop him, he sprung on the tray like a starved beast. He grabbed the bowl and stuffed the brown rice into his mouth. He only paused to gulp down wine straight from the jug between bites. All the food in the bowl disappeared and filled his cheeks until he looked like a hoarding hamster. He even scooped up the grains that missed his mouth with his fingertips and ate those too.
Smolder (Dragon Souls) Page 21
