“Heard the grayskin you fought beat you like a stray cat,” he told me with a knowing smirk.
“It . . . didn’t go well.”
We went over offensive techniques, his skill remarkably similar to Lukain’s in terms of control. He was not as fast or ruthless as my master, however.
Toward the end of the session, I asked, “Where is Master Lukain, Ant? He usually does the honors of instructing me.”
“He’s busy,” Antones said in a clipped tone. The stocky man looked away after that, choosing a wooden weapon from the sparring table. “Got another auction coming up.”
My brow furrowed. “He always has more auctions coming up. Hasn’t stopped him be—”
“All he said is he’s busy,” he cut in, frustration edging his tone as his head whipped over to me. “Now come on and fight me.” He lifted a wooden longsword from the table, discarding his shortsword. “Let’s see how well you do against reach.”
We fenced for a while, parrying and riposting and lunging. My mind was distracted as I watched Antones’ eyes rather than his hands or feet.There’s something he’s not telling me,I decided.He’s hiding something for Lukain’s sake.
I winced as Ant scored a harsh blow to my hip, shaking his head in disappointment as he stood back. “Sloppy.”
“Little grimmer,”I thought.That’s the phrase Lukain would have used after scolding me.
Even stranger than Lukain not teaching me was his avoidance of me in general. I thought after our torrid dalliance at Olhav, we would have connected and become closer.
The opposite was true. He did not come calling in the wee hours of night like I hoped he would. It wasn’t proper for me to snoop around, sneaking into his bed in his personal chamber—the preferential treatment accusations would have flown to new heights—but he was the boss.He could do whatever he wanted in the Firehold. He owned the place.
Lukain avoiding me was depressing and slightly suspicious. Even during the days when we went about our chores, supped in the eating hall, and engaged in physical activities, he was rarely around anymore.
It wasn’t just a matter of days this transpired. It went on for months.
The rejection stung.Did I do something wrong?
I became crestfallen.Perhaps he’s avoiding me because he’s obsessed with me,I thought one day. It was a stupid notion—I didn’t see myself as important.He needs to run his slave trade, which means keeping focus. I distract from that focus.
I had to remember Lukain’s goals as explained to me by Antones months prior during our surface outing.Our master wishes to reclaim his place in Olhavian society by calling on debts owed to him.I had no idea who these shadowy debtors were, but perhaps he was making his move.
The day before the upcoming auction, I had my scheduled walk with Antones. The sun felt good on my face. In the months since the shadowgala, I had grown stronger and more resilient—more determined to not lose again like I had to Garroway.
As we moseyed through the southern bazaar, Antones inspecting pretty dresses in the trade market of my upbringing, I said, “I want to go to the auction tomorrow, Ant.”
Antones glanced over, eyebrows raised. “That is unconventional, Seph.”
“I know. You once told me any active fighter is permitted to attend slave auctions so we might give opinions on potential warriors.”
“Yes. Just because it’s permitted doesn’t mean it’s often done. It’s a formality.”
“Regardless, I would like to attend. Is that going to be a problem?”
He turned to stare at me. “No. I don’t suppose it will be. Is it so you might have one-on-one time with Master Lukain?”
“My reasons are my own. I’m a firm believer in secrets.”
His smile slowly curled. “You’re even starting to sound like him. Using our master’s words against me, are you?”
I returned the smile. Antones picked out four dresses for the girls, grunted to himself as he paid with coins from his purse, and we continued on.
“We should be getting back soon,” he said a while later, looking up at the sky. “Sun’s going down.”
I nodded morosely. I had started to schedule my surface outings on any dayotherthan the Seventh Day, which meant I hadn’t run into Father Cullard and his Broken flock again. It was a small blessing not to be reminded of that.
As we approached the grate entrance to the Firehold, Antones stopped me with a hand on my arm. He looked into my face, his features scrunching together in consternation. He stayed quiet and introspective, staring at me.
