Felix is in for a demonstration. Spirits help him.
HUNTING KALIX DOWN PROVES TO be harder than I expected.
I wander about the long meeting halls. Nothing. Eventually, I’m drawn to the wing of the castle that houses the training arenas and weapons barracks.
Gods, it stinks.
As I pass through the wide doors separating this wing from the rest of the palace, I’m greeted by the thick smell of sweat and body odor. It hits me like a wall.
Doors are left ajar down the corridor. From each, the sounds of grunts, clashing metal, and fists meeting flesh echo through the hall.
I find Kalix the same way anyone would: by his shouting.
“Quit bitching! Ten push-ups for that garbage form.”
He’s in a massive training room, lit up by the glass ceiling high overhead. Sparring mats line the floors. Weapon racks and gear flank the wall.
Pairs of guards practice in clusters while Kalix looms over one poor soul doing push-ups, barking out the count.
He spots me and snaps at the guard to resume sparring, then walks over.
“Whatever brings you tothiscorner of the castle?” he asks dryly, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt
Definitely part of the reasons this place reeks.
“I need a cursed subject. Alive,” I reply. “Tyran thinks I shouldexperienceone for myself before making decisions.”
“Demon hunting, with the demon herself? Don’t see what could possibly go wrong.”
He laughs like he already knows the answer.
“Tell you what,” he says, nodding toward the mat. “Show me your skills.”
“My…skills?” I echo. “As in, sword? Sparring?”
“Yes,” he says, already stepping aside. “You’re collared. I need to know you won’t be dead weight.”
“Cage did bring you back bloody,” he adds.
I snap at Kalix before I can stop myself.
“Oh yeah? I could’ve easily been the one bringinghimback bloody. I chose not to rip this damn collar off and feast on his flesh like Icraveto.”
Kalix’s eyes widen in shock or awe, maybe both. “Gods above, you’re like a feral dog. Fuck, a cat even. You’d gnaw on someone’s bone.”
He laughs, his shoulders relaxing.
“Listen, Millie, just show me what you’ve got. Think of it as an excuse to kick my ass,” he offers.
The ideaisdelicious. Kicking his ass here, in front of people who respect him? That’s too good to pass up. My victory will be exceptionally sweet.
“Don’t say I cheated when I do.” I shoot him a cheeky grin and head to the sparring mat.
He trails behind me, raising a brow. “You’re in a gown? Do you want to change?”
“There’ll be no need for that, Captain.” I have been training for years well over his age. He has no idea what I’m capable of.
Once I am closer to him, I switch to monitoring him in his entirety—every muscle that shortens and lengthens as it relaxes or activates, what foot he leans on, what hand he may favor. Observation is everything.
