Page 49 of The Trials of Ophelia

My heart stuttered at how easy that had been, until she held up a finger.

“On one condition.”

I sank into the chair, feet planted firmly. “I’m listening.”

Mila unfolded herself from the dresser and crossed the room until she was standing before me. “I’ll train you, with whichever weapons you choose, and help you beat these freezing episodes. But you also have to work with me on your emotional control.” She bent down until we were nose to nose and lifted her finger to tap the side of my head. “To stop avoiding what’s happening in here”—she lowered her hand to my chest—“and in here.”

Stop avoiding it? I ran my tongue over my teeth, considering. That didn’t sound like a good idea. I’d fought hard to cage up everything I was feeling, and though the panic still gripped me, most days I was fine. Unleashing it…that would set me back.

How the fuck did she know what was going through my head, anyway?

“You can’t just teach me how to fight without looking pathetic?”

Her eyes softened. Voice, too. “No, Malakai. It runs deeper.”

There was something to her tone. A ‘you know this already’ implication that had a scoff building in my throat. But deep down, I knew she was right. The source of my incapability on a battlefield was linked to everything else that was fucked up in my mind.

I swallowed. “Fine.”

“Then you have a deal, Warrior Prince.” Mila straightened and held her hand out to me.

“Don’t call me that,” I growled, pushing to my feet so I towered over her, not taking her hand.

But she gripped my palm and pulled me forward. “Lesson number one: don’t let their useless words hurt you.”

I tightened my grip, forcing her to step into me. Where her hands had been smooth upon our first meeting, they were now rough and calloused. “Got it, General.”

Mila released a small hum of contemplation, then turned, walking toward the door.

“What?” I asked, standing there like an idiot.

She turned over her shoulder, lifted it. “I liked the sound of that.” Her hips swayed dangerously as she continued toward the door. “Your second lesson starts tomorrow, Warrior Prince. See you at sunrise.”

And as she left, I wasn’t sure if I had just made the greatest deal of my life or the stupidest. One thing I did know—I needed to think with my head and not my fucking cock.

Chapter Fifteen

Ophelia

A thunderous boom shook the driftwood walls of the inn. I shot from my bed, tearing back the curtain around the room’s small window.

“What in the Spirits?” Jezebel mumbled, blinking grouchy eyes up at me. Starfire was in my hand. Dawn light filtered in, dimmed gray from the ocean fog rolling across the ground.

A second boom followed, close enough to rattle the entire building. And I realized what it was.

“Those fucking cannons,” Jezebel groaned, falling back into bed, and pulling the cover tighter over her head.

I let her be. The Seawatchers had hosted us at a bonfire last night which Tolek deemed Jezebel’s belated birthday celebration. She’d danced and drank well into the night, and though my chest squeezed at the realization that she was grown, contentment stilled my racing heart.

I pulled on my leathers and prepared for the day, quietly shutting the door on my sleeping sister. The town was still at this hour. The warriors who lived here or were stationed temporarily were likely used to the echoing blasts and hadn’t sprung from bed as I had.

It was calming as I crossed sand paths lined with fronds and crane flowers. They were an unusual combination, but something about it made this small town uniquely beautiful. After speaking with Ezalia when we first arrived, I tried to pick out those pieces, seeing the threads weaving the tapestry of this small gray outpost into a work of art. The air prickled with something akin to anticipation.

As the buildings thinned and the sand and dirt stretched out to the cliff’s edge, thin blades of grass peaking weakly through, a deep voice called, “Test six!” And another blast echoed.

I followed the voice around a bend in the cliff, and the world poured before me. Endless gray ocean sparkled silver in the rising sun. As I walked closer, I realized it wasn’t a sleet-colored sheet as I’d thought. It was arrays of deep navy and indigo, swipes of cerulean shimmering like brushstrokes with the rippling tide. Each color melted together as the clouds parted.

And on the cliff’s edge, looking over that expanse of world teeming for us to explore, Tolek sat at a cannon.

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