Page 35 of Between Smoke and Shadow
“Why is that?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m talking or what I’m saying. I’m trembling and there’s still a good chance I’ll faint.
Harrick doesn’t respond. He only steps backward, slowly, the sword tip pointed at an upward angle.
“Step back,” he says. “Even more unfortunate than you stabbing yourself would bemestabbing you. Go to the wall across from me. Knock on it so I know you’re there.”
I hurry away from the prince and press my back against the wall. I knock twice before inching silently to the side, just in case he’s planning to use me for blind target practice.
Harrick widens his stance and shifts one leg forward, tilting the sword as he moves. He looks like a masterpiece, so beautiful this moment should be painted and hung upon a wall. I’m mesmerized by the sharp cut his sword makes through the air, until I’m not thinking of the million ways he could kill me. Eventually he stops, relaxing his practiced stance.
He’s not going to hurt me.
The thought comes without permission, but I think it might be true. The fact that hecouldhave killed me a million ways—and hasn’t—might be proof that he won’t. Maybe there was something more about Caleah’s capture, something I haven’t figured out. Or maybe he’s deranged, ruining some and sparing others.
Harrick lowers the sword and steps toward me. He’s about halfway across the mat when he lowers the sword to the ground. Then he moves to the wall opposite me and blindly gestures toward the abandoned weapon.
“Try it,” he says, voice soft. “Don’t swing it yet. You need to get a feel for the weight first. Just try to copy my movements. Pick a dominant foot?—”
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. I blush, realizing I’ve just interrupted the crown prince. “I only mean—I believe you. I take your word that you will not harm me. Please forgive me for my horrible actions. If you let me, I will return to my room and I will never inconvenience you or defy your laws again. I will repay your mercy with anything you ask of me.”
I don’t know if I’m telling the truth or not. All I know is that, once again, the sour taste of death is in my mouth.
“Pick your dominant foot,” he repeats, words level, void of emotion. “Take the sword and bend your elbows as I did. I’m going to remove the mask to watch you. Okay?”
“Yes, my prince,” I say. I collect the sword and put my left foot forward. I’ve no idea what he means bydominantfoot, but it doesn’t matter. If I survive the night, I will never get myself into this foolish of a situation again.
“Call me Harrick,” he says as he unties the handkerchief. He folds it back into his pocket, dark eyes studying me. “Now, shift your stance, move the sword, get a feel for it. Widen your feet a bit. You’re going to fall if you swing it like that.”
I force myself not to think about anything other than Harrick’s commands. He says one critique after another, until I’m too exhausted to hold the sword at all. I finally lower its tip to the floor, panting as Harrick explains the importance of my hips while sword fighting. My face is damp with sweat, and I can already feel a soreness spreading through my shoulders.
“It will get easier,” he says. He pushes from the wall, taking slow, tentative steps toward me. I force myself to stay put, even as my legs beg me to run. “And next time, we will pick a better weapon for you. The sword is too heavy. You’d do better with a dagger or maybe darts. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to use anything magicked. It’d kill you long before it protected you.”
I tilt the handle of the sword toward Harrick, unable to think of a response. I can’t decide if he’s being sincere, if he’s honestly offering to help me illegally train for a second time. It’d be dangerous and reckless, not just for me, but for him too. His punishment would be nothing like the death I’d face, but teaching a servant to fight couldn’t fare well for him either.
Is this how they tricked Caleah?
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he continues, taking the sword from my outstretched hand. He moves across the room, hanging it on an empty holder. “You’ll want to rest, but that will only hurt worse in the long run. We’ll meet here tomorrow night, same time.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I watch him in silence. He removes his gloves, revealing long fingers and slightly calloused palms. He walks back toward me, doing the buttons of his coat as he stops a foot away.
And Wyhel, this man is unjustly attractive. He is tall and broad and muscular—and I have to remind myself that some servants would be built like him too, if they weren’t starving. No amount of food would make them this stunning though. Harrick’s jaw is square and his cheekbones are high. His lips arefull, and his nose is strong. If I dared to look into his eyes, I am sure they are beautiful too.
I look back to the ground.
“I don’t understand,” I say after a heavy pause. My words tremble as I push through them. “I’ve done something terrible, and it seems you should punish me for it.”
I don’t know why I keep opening my mouth, why I’m reminding him that I should be killed for my actions. There’s nothing good that will come of it, but my body is a mass of tightly-wound anxiety, making it impossible to think straight.
“You want me to punish you?” he asks. He’s staring at me intensely, looking from my eyes to my nose to my chin and up again. There’s a heavy crease between his eyes.
“I just…I don’t understand,” I repeat. I fidget under his hard stare, further explanation drying in my throat.
“I am not going to punish you,” he says, frowning. “But if you would like to repay mymercy, as you call it, I will accept.”
“Anything, my prince,” I say, and it comes out as a rushed breath. The thought of him holding this much over me is nauseating, and I’d rather pay my debt sooner than later.
“First, I want to look into your eyes,” Harrick says. I shift as he watches me, crossing my arms over my stomach. “Second, call me Harrick, not your prince. And third, I want you to train with me. Here, tomorrow night.”
I force myself to nod, mind churning with his requests. It’s not like I could possibly refuse, but now my insides twitch with unease. All I can think about are the probable consequences, most of which will lead to my death.
