“What? I’m not—” Her cheeks warmed. “I’m not confused about anything.”
“Really?” He stretched out the word so it sounded even more disbelieving.
“Well,maybe. I just don’t know where you’re taking me, and why.”
Nikator lifted an eyebrow and amusement flashed over his annoyingly handsome face. “So youareconfused.”
“I don’t like the way you’re saying it. Like I don’t know anything.”
“I never said that.”
“I can read between the lines, you know.” She gave him a pointed look, which earned her a crooked smile.
When they reached a pair of double doors, unmanned and without any guards in sight, Nikator slowed in his trek. Biyu had never been to this part of the palace so she had no clue what to expect. They had probably left the mage quarters, judging by the lack of mages, but they must have still been in the inner palacesince the banners of the Drakkon dynasty were more abundant in these halls.
He finally freed her and pushed one of the doors and held it open for her. Sunlight filtered through the opening and she stepped forward; it was as if she stepped into a thick fog of sweltering, summer heat. Sand crunched beneath her feet as she entered an empty courtyard with weapons stacked on one of the far walls, worn-out and sun-faded target dummies scattered about with daggers and arrows still sticking out of them, and a single shaded area on the far right. Most notable was that there were absolutely no windows in sight; even though the large yard was walled in by the palace, there was no way to enter or see into it other than the entrance she had just passed through.
For secrecy’s sake, perhaps?
Biyu stopped at the center, squinting at the training area. “Is this where you and the rest of the Peccata train?”
“Yes. This one and the indoor training room. You saw that one, remember?” He kicked the door closed and went over to the dummies, dragging them away to the shaded area where the rest of the weapons were. He yanked out the weapons stuck to the dolls and clucked his tongue. “Minos must have been the last to use this space, because he never cleans up after himself.”
“And you do?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back and doing a small twirl to see the rest of the space. She had no idea why he’d brought her here, but it made her feel … relaxed, for once. Because there were no prying eyesandshe was outside.
Nikator snorted. “Do you think of me as a slob?”
“I don’t know you that well.”
“Well, I like to keep things tidy. Surprising, I know.” He went over to another dummy and pulled it to the side as well. “I’m not as meticulous as Atreus is, but I try.”
Atreus was tidy; Minos was messy. She tucked that piece of info deep in her mindjust in caseshe ever needed it. Though she doubted that would be useful to Yat-sen and their plan.
A thin sheen of sweat was already forming on her skin and she fanned her face with her hands. It was much too humid to be out here. “What are we doing out here?”
“We’re going to spar.”
Biyu’s eyebrows shot up. “We? As in, you and me?”
An amused grin curled his lips. “Yes. Us. Me, and you.”
“Sparring?” She must have heard wrong, because there was no way she was going to spar with him—a trained warrior. She was just … Biyu. A pampered princess who didn’t know anything about weapons. The last time she had used a sharp blade was when she had swung her paring knife at Yat-sen. And that had been a knife used forfruits, for heaven’s sake.
“Yes, a spar. Have you never sparred before?”
“Never.”
“There’s a first for everything.”
Nikator dropped down in front of a chest and rifled through it. His long red hair trailed down his spine; it was secured by a leather cord. She touched the ends of her hair distractedly; she had used two hairpins to keep hers in place. Would that be enough for a spar or would they fly off?
Biyu spread her hands over her silk skirt; she had chosen a deep gold dress with delicate purple dragons embroidered along the edges and all throughout the sleeves. She wasn’t dressed for a spar and she didn’t want her dress to get dirtied with sand and sweat. The latter, however, was becoming inevitable as she was already feeling sweat slicking her body.
“Worried about your clothes?” Nikator pulled out a dark blue outfit from the chest. “Put this on.”
“I can’t—” He chucked it at her and she scrambled forward to catch it. They were surprisingly soft and clean, though there wasa lingering smell of old linen. She hugged it to her chest. “You can’t mean formeto wear these?”
“Yes,you.” Nikator rose up to his feet and stretched his arms. “You sound like a parrot.”
