“It was his reach, you see,” Rirth said, clicking his tongue. “Could never get away from his long, gangly arms. Then I learned to pivot, to shift my momentum, and I drilled for weeks with new techniques.”
He stopped talking. I tilted my head. “And?”
“And he hasn’t beaten me since.”
I matched his wry smile with a frown, nodding slowly. Then I gulped down my pride, closed my eyes, and sighed heavily. When I opened them, I spoke with a flat, sober tone. “Would you show me how, Rirth? I would be honored if you would tutor me.”
He thought for a moment, pursing his lips. His face took on the same seriousness it had when we were fighting. “So long as you can stand being around Culiar for any length of time. He’s vexing, but he’s still my friend.”
I smiled, wincing from the attempt, re-splitting my lip. “Deal. I can handle it.”
“Then I have no qualms showing you whatever bit of wisdom I might have to pass down.”
My chin dropped. “Thank you.”
Lukain said, “Not so fast, little grimmers.” He looked at us, then at my hand, which was splinted. “Surgeon says two of your fingers are broken. It’s the little bones in the littlest fingers. They may take months to repair. You’ll be useless until then.”
Anguish formed a knot in my belly. “Useless?”
“In the ring. Sparring. Dueling. I will not permit you to fight while you have injuries of such an extent. Culiar has been out of commission for three months now thanks to his broken collar, and he still has more to go.”
“Damn,” I hissed, shaking my head. He was right. There was no way I could go against his words. “Now I know how it feels to be lame.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Lukain scolded. “The wound is only physical pain for now. It will become emotional pain as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months. Hold fast to your convictions and goals, Sephania, because your journey is just beginning. It will be a bumpy one.”
Rirth said, “My offer still stands once you are healed.”
I acknowledged them with small nods, and then they left the room, leaving only me and Jinneth.
She patted the blanket over my leg. I winced from an unseen bruise there. Smiling, my friend said, “Looks like you’ll be snugging with us girls for a while, yeah?”
Chapter 15
The months following my recovery were grueling. Lukain was right: the days became depressing as I learned I was not invulnerable. Worse than that, I wasfrail. Human.
No wonder the Olhavian vampires have such an easy time keeping the Nuhavian humans down here. If they’re immune to all the sickness and scarring that wounds humans, we don’t stand a chance against them.
I’d still never met a fullblood vampire. As a child at the House of the Broken, listening to Father Cullard’s boogeyman stories of the monsters, I had shuddered and prayed I neverwouldmeet a vampire.
Now as a young adult I was actively attempting to do just that. My liberty depended on attending a mysterious shadowgala in Olhav and fighting to unchain myself from Master Lukain’s grip.
I didn’t know how it worked. The specifics of “fighting for my freedom,” and what I must do—how many duels must I win? What am I given when I leave the Firehold? Anything? Will Lukain stay true to his word?
I figured those questions would be answered if I ever made it to the summit of the mountain. For now, I needed to focus on my recovery, my tutelage, my sanity.
The time I’d spent training for fights was adjusted toward rehabilitation. I put in the same singular focus on making sure my hand recovered as I had in making sure I could defeat my adversaries in the ring.
While someone like Culiar’s broken bone took so long to heal because he drank too much, fucked too often, and often re-aggravated his wound, I had no such issues.
Every morning, I would exercise my wrists and hands. Once the splint on my two leftmost fingers was removed and replaced by a bulky bandage, and then a thinner one, I worked to try and stretch my fingers and open and close my fist.
It was excruciating at first, almost like I was fracturing the digits all over again. The tiny bones in my hand were annoying. Each one needed to heal correctly, congruously, connecting with sinew, cartilage, and muscle, if I wanted any chance of wielding a sword again.
I didn’t blame Rirth for wounding me. He had only been doing his duty. I blamed myself for letting it happen—not being quick enough to prevent it.
The young man often came to me in the eating hall to converse, even as Culiar scowled from another table as if he thought I was trying to steal his best friend.
Then, three months after the initial wound, the strangest thing happened during a random eating hour. It wasCuliarwho approached my table.
