Page 59 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron
“We should be getting back to your training,” he says. “That’s the priority right now.”
I gesture to my worktable. “But I haven’t even gotten started making them. This is the only one I have. It took me a while to get the consistency right.”
“It will have to wait,” he says, with a firmness that raises my hackles.
“No. There are people in pain in that orchard. Don’t you care? Doesn’t it bother you that your subjects are hurting when you could do something about it?”
The warmth that was in his eyes a moment ago has cooled. “I am doing something about it, and I resent your assumptions that I’m indifferent to their pain. But I’m not blind to other factors either. Why else would I be here, trying to persuade you to focus on your training?”
Why else indeed.
“My training is about stopping iron attacks when they come; this is about helping people now. I need to make more of this protection, and not just masks, all kinds of gear.”
“But the iron attacks could come at any time—this hour or the next. You’re suggesting putting a bandage on the wound; I am suggesting a cure to the disease that caused it. That is what will stop the suffering. Will you make a set of lead armor for every person in this court when the iron returns?”
I can see the wisdom in his words, even if it feels wrong to prioritize anything over the miners’ suffering. I push the mask away from me with a sigh.
“It’s hard for me to have faith in magic,” I admit. “I’m used to working with ore and metal, things I can hold in my hand. Magic feels unreliable in comparison. Especially my own power, which, might I remind you, I’m not even supposed to have.”
“Of course you’re meant to have it,” Ruskin says gently. “There’s more to us meeting than coincidence. What with your gold weaving and now these other abilities, I was supposed to find you. I’m sure of that.”
I stare at him.
It sounds like he’s talking about something grand and inevitable—something a bit like fate. Searching his face, I wonder if he could possibly have an inkling of what we are to each other. Or what we might be, if I’m prepared to accept the whole idea of naminai.
But Ruskin just looks back at me, his eyebrow quirked. I’m aware I’m staring like an idiot and so shake my head to clear it, beginning to pack away my tools.
“Fine. Let’s train, then.”
“I still don’t understand why the other training ground won’t do,” I say, reluctantly accepting Ruskin’s hand so I can slide off my horse without falling on my ass. “The one I used with Halima.”
“Because I’m expecting considerably more fallout from what we’ll be working on today.”
I straighten my tunic, noting the way Ruskin’s eyes linger on it. He wore a curious expression when I first came out of my room with my pants and thigh guards on, plus a sword sheathed at my belt.
“What?” I asked, checking I had everything on the right way round.
“Nothing. It just suits you,” he said. It took me a moment to recognize the look on his face as desire: he liked the way the armor looked on me.
“Who knew you had such a thing for military women,” I couldn’t resist teasing. “I should warn Halima.”
“Just one woman, actually, and she’s got her arm brace on the wrong way up.”
“Dammit,” I said, knowing something hadn’t felt right. I used the task of switching it around as distraction from the blush his words created on my cheeks.
I look around now to the place where he’s led us, taking in the low valley. Thankfully there’s no purple flowers on the hills, and these outcrops look rockier than the ones from my vision. Dark stone peeks through the greenery, and the tops stretch out, undulating across the skyline.
“So what’s different about today?” I ask.
“Halima is excellent when it comes to physical combat. It’s why I wanted her to teach you the basic movements of sword fighting. But she’d be the first person to say she doesn’t have the same kind of strength at magic. Halima’s tactic has always been to win before her opponent has a chance to use it against her, but that’s less feasible for you.”
“So you’re going to teach me to defend myself against magic and swords…at the same time?” I ask. It sounds impossible. I just about survived yesterday, and that only required me to focus on one kind of defense.
“I’ll go easy on you. To begin with,” he adds, unsheathing his sword. I recognize it as the one I used to kill Cebba. He notes my stare. “You managed to use this, Eleanor,” he reminds me, his voice soft and encouraging. “And that was when you had no idea what you were doing.
“But that was a matter of life and death,” I argue. “I was just acting on instinct.”
“And this is a matter of life and death too. Or it will be, tomorrow, or next week, or whenever someone next decides to take a shot at you. And that will happen; you’re too important to be left alone. But your instincts will always be a good guide.”
