We reached the gate, and she paused. “I have something to show you,” she said, digging images out of her pockets that looked like they’d been photocopied from a newspaper.
I took one look and froze.
“It looks just like the photos of the man I knew as my dad. So my mom was the midwife? Who was the man?”
“Her husband. And the boy, their son.”
“They weren’t Satyrs.”
“No. Another realmian race. Very humanlike.”
My heart twisted. These people had raised me, kept me safe. And paid for it with their lives. “Do you know, yet, who my biological father is?”
“Not for certain,” Cara hedged.
The more we discovered about my past, the more questions I had. “Thank you for uncovering this,” I said. “At least now I have some answers.”
“Some, anyway,” the Watcher said, holding her hands up to the gate. Feeling numb, I picked up Trix.
Cass and Eli waited for us in the same clearing as before. Neither seemed all that upset that we were a few minutes late. When Cara apologized, Eli just grinned. “This is vastly preferable to digging.”
The Watcher smiled and seated herself on her boulder. Trix wiggled her way around to both Bellatis before Cara called her over to sit at her feet.
“Any special requests?” Cass asked.
The Watcher waved her hand. “Teach her to fight like a Bellati.”
Eli’s eyes widened as I unsheathed Talakai’s sword. “Where did you get that?”
“Borrowed it from a friend,” I said.
Both Bellatis stared at me. They seemed at a loss for words.
“Are we doing this?” I asked them. I felt more than a bit ridiculous, brandishing what they clearly recognized as a special sword against such skilled warriors.
“Okay,” Cass said as he and Eli took up position in front of me. “Bellatis fight with their spiral swords”—he lifted his—“and a backup weapon.” He wiggled the finger of his other hand. “That will either be a knife, a short sword, or their bare hand.”
His eyes flashed, and Eli came at him. The two swords clashed with a distinctly unique ringing sound, and with a twist, they locked together. Eli then reached with his bare hand past Cass’s sword and laid it on his chest.
“The longer he can keep my sword bound and his hand on me, the more damage he could do. Past the skin and flesh—to bone. Therefore, you are fighting to avoid that in your opponent, as well as to place your own hands on him.”
“If I were a shifter, those would be claws,” Eli stated, curling his fingers before withdrawing his hand. They unlocked the swords and stood back.
“Our style of fighting, therefore, is a combination of swordplay and close-contact handwork,” Cass continued.
I swallowed. “Do you ever kill with hands alone?”
“It is difficult to keep your hand on the opponent long enough to do that kind of damage,” Eli stated.
“How long would you have to hold on for, in order to kill?” I asked.
Eli and Cass exchanged a glance, and their eyes flared. “Skin damage is pretty instant. Flesh beneath, a few seconds,” Eli explained. “The depth necessary to take out a vital organ takes not only time, but power and concentration—it’s very draining. If you can keep the hold long enough to succeed, it would leave you vulnerable to another attack.
Okay, that all sounded very familiar. I held up my arms to show the scars. “Not to mention, the opponent tends to object to you doing it.”
Cass’s eyes widened. “You need arm guards—or gauntlets at the very least. We often wear them if we are battling shifters. Gives us some protection from their claws.”
“She’ll be fitted later today,” Cara stated.
