Sword of Storms

by Tara Brown

  Love wasn’t turning out to be what she had expected.

  Not at all.

  Chapter 13

  Sweat poured from her face as she heaved the heavy wooden sword at the man. He spun, slapping her on the butt with the flat side of his sword with a loud smack against her tight leather britches. A sound escaped her lips against her will. Her cheeks on her bottom matched the cheeks on her face, red and sweaty. He’d hit her there every time she messed up.

  “You’ve got to be quicker, milady.” Guard Trainer Merle laughed.

  She heaved her breath, nodding her head.

  She was accustomed to the men laughing at her. It had been a fortnight of it. The first couple of days they were cruel, no one wanting to spar with her. No one would so much as speak to her. But word got out that Lord Ivor had forbidden her being there and something changed. The men let her in, let her show up. She suspected it was their small way of sticking it to a royal who commanded their whole lives. At least she hoped it was that. Though most of them liked Ivor and respected him. Which meant there was a fair to good chance they were letting her fight and train as a joke to torment him in a friendly sort of way, not realizing how intense his opinions were about her fighting.

  More than anything, she wanted their acceptance because she worked hard, harder than anyone on the grounds. It had been her father’s advice to her brother once, “Find the man who is working the hardest and work twice as hard as him. That’s the fastest way to earn respect. That and keep your mouth shut until you’ve earned the right to speak.”

  And she lived by that rule, or rather was dying by it. Dying of thirst and hunger and weakness. But she wouldn’t let them see.

  She was there every day at dawn and left most days at dusk.

  What they didn’t know was she cried as the maids cleaned her at night, tending her wounds. Her old farming calluses changed, splitting open and hardening again as new rough patches formed. She slept and ate and fought. There was not much else.

  And certainly no natural skills.

  Fear hadn’t come for her.

  Desperation didn’t ignite her inner warrior.

  Whatever that magic was, it stayed away as she worked on her own set of skills. Which was for the best.

  “My lord,” Merle said quickly, his boots making the scraping kick of standing at attention as the crunch of other leather boots made their way to the grounds. Ollie and Scar lifted their heads, both jumping up and running toward the footsteps.

  Lenny braced herself for yet another lecture as she spun, finding the disapproving stare of Lord Ivor fixed on her. Even the snuggling of the wolfhounds didn’t calm his mood.

  “I thought I made it clear you were not to come here,” Lord Ivor spoke gruffly.

  “And I thought I made it clear you have no say in what I do. The king and his mother have agreed I need to be here to learn to fight. The trainers have no problem working with me. This has nothing to do with you.” Lenny lifted her head, chest out and chin up, meeting him with the same strength he showed.

  “Nothing to do with me?” His tone cooled as if she had wounded him with her choice of words. “Your sister marries in a matter of hours, and you’re here instead of helping her get ready?” He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Not exactly sisterly.”

  “I will need precisely one hour to be ready for this wedding. Again, not that it’s any of your business,” she shot back, unable to tell him she was leaving in the morning with the brothers and every moment spent training was a moment she needed.

  As the queen advised, Lenny had told no one. Her silence held back the reason she required training, which meant the awkward distance between Lenny and Lord Ivor grew a little more every day.

  He hadn’t renewed his sentiments nor his affections. It was the second time he had distanced himself from her, and as far as Lenny was concerned, it would be the last. She wasn’t playing whatever strange games of the heart he was accustomed to. She had enough to occupy her mind, adding pain-in-the-arse men wasn’t necessary. Regardless of how she felt about them.

  “Have you considered Hilde needs you?” He scoffed.

  “Perhaps you can be of better use. I daresay you know more about getting into women’s gowns than I do.”

  Merle snorted but covered his mouth and tried to turn it into a cough, earning a cold glare from Lord Ivor.

  “Merle hasn’t worked you out hard enough today,” Lord Ivor said, holding his hand out to Lenny and facing Merle. “She is still full of piss and vinegar. Allow me.”

  Lenny’s stomach dropped. It would take her years to fight at the skill level of Ivor. But she lifted the sword and readied herself. Feelings of betrayal at how his sweet words had turned out to be nothing burned in her.

  “Leave us,” he commanded Merle.

  “My lord—”

  “What did I say about calling me by title here? Leave! Now!” he shouted at the guard trainer. “You disobeyed me by allowing her here at all. We will have words about this later. Now go!”

  Merle’s eyes met Lenny’s. They filled with sentiments he wouldn’t dare speak before he turned and walked from the grounds. He closed the massive doors and left her and Lord Ivor alone with the hounds and swords and arguments they also didn’t dare speak.

  Lord Ivor stared at her. “Two weeks of arena training has hopefully improved your skill.” He lifted the wooden sword.

  His smug grin forced hate to rise in Lenny’s chest as she heaved for breaths, exhaling loudly as Ollie did when he was angry.

  She waited for his assault.

  “Why are you doing this, Lenny? Why are you throwing yourself into this with such little care for your safety?” He took a step forward, pointing the sword at her. He held it as if it weighed nothing.

  “I want to learn,” she answered back using the same cold tone he did.

  “Why?” He charged with fancy footwork, dancing and making the dirt rise as he struck her sword, sending vibration down the hilt and into her aching hands. She shoved his sword with hers and ducked, sliding past him, spinning and waiting for the next hit. “Why are you here from dawn to dusk every day? The soldiers who train, normally take days off, they allow themselves time to heal. You’re reckless! Emotional! Your magic could slip out, then what?”

  He hit again.

  “You should have spent a fortnight on Pappelwhick with the brothers. At least they might have taught you something useful.”

  “You want me on Pappelwhick so I can’t see you cavorting, but I see you!” She tried to block, but he managed to strike her arm, making her wince in pain as she danced away from him, keeping her feet light as she was taught, even in agony. She turned to face him.

  “Cavorting, is it?” He moved erratically, impossible to predict, slow and fast, hitting her and the sword a dozen different ways, nevertheless managing enough breath to lecture her. “You act as though you have no care for yourself. Instead of taking care of your magical connection, you’re here. In the dust and dirt, sweating with the men, day in and day out, to learn something you instinctively already know how to do. Why? Are you perhaps the one cavorting?” he questioned her further.

  She cried out as the last hit struck her arm in the same spot.

  He dropped the sword, charging toward her like a bull in the fields in Wetwoodshire. “And you act as though you hate me, accusing me no less, and I don’t understand.”

  She lifted her sword, holding it out at him. He walked right to the point of the wooden blade and let it dig into his torso and lifted it with his hands to his heart and held it there.

  “Why are you pulling away from me?” he demanded.

  “You pulled away first!” she shouted back, her voice cracking. She wasn’t sad but tears burst from her eyes, making her angrier at the weakness they displayed. Rage dripped down her cheeks as she trembled. “You are a liar!” She pushed on the blade, but he didn’t fight it. He let it stab into his shirt, threatening to cut his skin with the dull point.

  “I hav
e never lied to you.” He stared her down, refusing to look away.

  “All you’ve done is lie,” Lenny whispered through the wetness soaking her lips. “With your fancy words and empty promises.”

  “This is rich.” He laughed bitterly. “You’re leaving tomorrow on a secret quest with the brothers, but I’m the liar with the fancy words?” he shouted, causing her to flinch. “You have not spoken to me for a fortnight except to yell at me. Admit you have avoided me at every cost!”

  “You avoided me first! I have only done what you did, followed your lead. The moment I saved Landon, you decided it was too much. I saw it in your face in that room the morning you came to Pappelwhick.” She shoved the sword in a little more, making his eye twitch with want to wince.

  “You saw concern and worry and yes, some fear.” He slapped the sword from her hands, charging her until he towered over her, forcing her face to lift to the sky to see his. “You are the first of your kind. The first of anything new is always feared. You have no idea what would happen to you if you were discovered.”

  “Leave me alone.” She stepped back from him but he walked to her. They did this dance until her back hit with a thump to the wall where the swords were kept.

  Lord Ivor put his hands on either side of her, pinning her there. “You think you’ve won these men over? You think they respect you now that you’ve bled and sweat with them?”

  She pressed her lips together, hating him.

  “Because you haven’t. They will never accept you. They will turn on you the moment they realize you are not what you say you are.”

  “The way you have?” she spat her words.

  He flinched at that. She shoved through his arm and strode to the wooden sword she’d dropped. She picked it up and walked to the wall.

  “You believe I have turned on you?” He was no longer shouting.

  Ignoring him, she leaned the wooden sword against the wall with the others, sheltered it from the weather.

  “Lenny?” he asked again. “You truly believe I have turned on you?”

  “What else is there, Ivor? One minute you’re saying you want to marry me and then you ignore me. I saw you at the coronation, surrounded by beautiful women, laughing the night away as if I didn’t exist. I think you’re angry I did what you asked and saved your cousin. You didn’t like the cost and you can’t forgive me for it.” She fought not to cry more angry tears but was losing the battle.

  “You’re right! You killed two innocent men to save one because I asked you to. I can never remove the stain of that request from my hands, nor wash their blood from yours. Blood I put there!” It was his turn for his voice to crack. “I love you and I wanted my life attached to yours and that cost two lives. And you took them as if they didn’t matter. Where is your remorse?”

  “Lost with yours over the end of our relationship before it had a chance to start!” Vibrating with rage at the accusation she was a heartless killer, she turned for the doors and hurried away before he could stop her. Her hands reached for the door handles, but something shot from them before she made contact, a wind of sorts. The doors flew open and slammed into the walls on the other side, splintering and cracking with a great bang.

  She jumped, both dogs did as well. Her heart raced and her eyes scanned the area to ensure no one had seen.

  “Lenny!”

  She bolted, running with Lord Ivor’s words haunting her.

  A whisper in the back of her mind tormented her the entire way to the castle.

  He was right.

  She was out of control.

  Her trigger was love, not fear.

  She loved Lord Ivor and the pain he was causing brought forth the magic. The same way her love for Amaya and Wen and Wilf and Hilde and Ollie had.

  Love was the weapon the magic needed.

  What did that mean? Was she unsafe to be around anyone she loved?

  The fear of that plagued her until she arrived at the suites her family was staying in. She was about to collapse and sob when she saw who had arrived in the nick of time. As if they’d ridden in on answered prayers. “Father!” She rushed the face she needed to see more than anything.

  “Lenny!” He swept her into his arms, hugging her tightly and inhaling slowly. He held on for a long time, his fingers trembling until he finally pulled her back and stared at her, assessing the damage the way Scar always did. “How are you this filthy in such a pristine castle?” A grin crossed his lips, lifting his mustache.

  “Do you really need to ask? She’s likely working for some grub on the docks.” Uncle Alek laughed and hurried to her, dragging her from her father and pulling her in for a bear hug. The dogs’ nails clicked on the floor as they both became excited at the guests they couldn’t have anticipated. “Never thought I’d say this, but I miss ya at home, kid.”

  “I miss you too,” Lenny muttered, taking in all the air around them, savoring the smells and familiarity of them. Tears flooded her eyes but she refused to set them free.

  “How are things?” her father asked, giving her a strangely questioning stare as he stroked Ollie’s and Scar’s faces. When she didn’t answer, he lifted his gaze. “Lenny?”

  “Curious,” she admitted, not bothering to hide her fear and worry from either of them. If anyone was on her side, but also clever enough to help her navigate this predicament, it was the two men standing next to her. “I used magic to save King Landon and fix Ollie’s wounds!” The words burst from her like a pot on the stove boiling over. “Two people had to die to do it, and I guess that means I sort of murdered them, even if they were old and volunteered. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

  “Your mother did mention that when we arrived,” her father muttered.

  “Did she also say that I saw Mrs. Knightly kill the king, in some bizarre vision? And now the brothers think magic is back in the kingdom, so they’re taking a journey around the whole kingdom trying to find creatures like me.”

  “Creatures?” her uncle asked.

  “Yes, I suppose anyone who found a stone like I did.” She held her hand out, letting them see the faded scar. “I got this from that stone when I touched it. And it’s faded but it’s not gone.”

  “And what does that mean for you?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered her father’s worried tone with her own. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “And the queen knows more than she is saying, but I can’t confront her on it. She knows something. And I’m scared. I’m scared of the magic and of the queen and myself and what it all means.”

  “Good,” Uncle Alek said softly. “You need to be. Gods, Lenny, I wish you’d kept this under wraps. Hidden it. I might feel safer, though I suppose the young king would be dead, wouldn’t he?”

  “He would but everything else would be easier,” Lenny admitted, her stomach aching with the worry she had finally allowed see the light of day.

  “What about those swords you got? Been learning to use them at all?” her father asked.

  “I’ve been training with the guards, learning to fight.”

  “That’s good,” her father agreed. “Very good. You’ll need it if anyone finds out about that magic. Or if they see you fight when you lose control.” He lifted his eyebrows. “If we were able to stay longer, I’d say we could train ya, but we are only staying for the wedding.”

  “I’m leaving with the brothers tomorrow anyway. We’re spending a couple of months away from the castle and the city. We’ll be on the road, journeying to the villages and towns to find magic. They want me to help them; since I have magic, they believe I will be able to.” She paused, biting her lip.

  “What is it?” her uncle asked.

  “I only want to go so I can find the others like me and see if there is someone who knows how to control it.” The image of the doors bursting open at the training grounds made her shudder. “It’s chaos right now inside me. One minute I think it’s gone and the next it’s bursting from me. And the brothers have books, but I can’t read a
ny of them. And there is no one like me. And I’m scared of what I might do in front of people.”

  “Does anyone know you are out of control?” her father asked with a heavy brow.

  “Lord Ivor,” she confessed, hating the words she spoke.

  “Just him?” Uncle Alek questioned. When Lenny nodded, he shrugged. “I think we all trust that fellow. Not the worst person to know your secrets. I’ve never seen someone love another person the way he does you.”

  Lenny’s insides twisted tighter, but she didn’t tell them the truth about Lord Ivor not loving her. “Also, has Gran mentioned much about her mother? The brothers asked me about Crail and Gran’s family. Seems like they might know a lot about magic.”

  “She’s always been weirder than most in Blockley, but not much mention of magic.” Her father shrugged.

  “Why are you three always the last to get dressed?” Aunt Mildred snapped as she came around the corner in a hurry and walked through the room and interrupting, “Let’s go!” She clapped her hands as she exited.

  “That’s our cue then.” Uncle Alek laughed.

  “Like a rooster letting you know the sun’s up,” Lenny’s father grumbled.

  “Be grateful she isn’t dressing you two,” Lenny lamented and headed to her room to bathe. Her ladies were already there, waiting. “If we’re quick enough, my aunt won’t get back in time to help,” Lenny whispered and let them undress her.

  As she dunked in the steaming water, she sighed. It soothed her aching muscles, but it hardly touched the tension in her soul.

  She wasn’t certain anything ever would.

  As the series of annoying events took place one after the other: bathing, drying, moisturizing, scenting, makeup, hair, and finally dress, Lenny’s thoughts drifted. She wondered what married life might look like here in the castle. What Hilde’s fate truly was.

  “Your sister is waiting!” Aunt Mildred interrupted the thoughts with a biting tone and a shrewd stare.

  “Tell them I’ll be right there,” Lenny offered flatly.