Page 68 of The Stars are Dying

I turned rigid when her hand reached out. Mine went slack around the blade she took from me.

“Men rarely get the weight and size of a sword correct for a woman.” Rose thrust the hilt of my former sword at Zathrian, hitting his chest, and in his surprise he gripped it, his hand around hers, with a low grunt.

My brow curved as I looked between them, shifting on my feet with the challenge that rose in the seconds-long stare they shared. I dragged the tip of my new sword against the ground as a distraction, and the sultry way Rosalind slipped her gaze from Zath revealed it was more an effort to rile him than any genuine attempt at seduction.

Zathrian looked to me when Rosalind turned, and as if he’d broken from a trance, his scowl showed her success.

I merely shrugged. “It does feel better,” I admitted, trying out a few of the steps and swings Zathrian had tried to teach me.

“And he doesn’t know what moves are best for you.” Rosalind crossed her arms, tossing him another look, and whatever was written in it this time turned him even more sour.

I pinched my lips to keep from smiling. Which was easy when any dose of humor or happiness was quickly gripped by guilt.

Rosalind clipped the blade I was using to prop myself up, and I stumbled before catching myself as the clang finished resonating.

“What are you doing?” I snapped, my irritation highly flammable at the goading I’d rather watch her inflict on Zathrian. But now it was his turn to yield a small side-smile, and I had to refrain from doing somethingverychildish.

“Wouldn’t you like to learn from someone who could actually advance your skills?”

Zathrian scoffed, and Rosalind’s brow lifted to me, wondering if I would defend my friend. In truth, I couldn’t deny his teaching was awful.

“Seriously?” he all but whined at my silence.

Rosalind smiled triumphantly, and Zathrian’s blue eyes pinned her with annoyance.

“Rosalind Kalisahn.” He drawled her name.

She cast him a bored look but lay a hint of a warning on him. “So you know my name. Everyone in the realm will by now. Keep yours—I have no need for it.”

I had never seen this side to Zathrian, and I wanted to shrink away from the growing tension in the room. His smile was all predatory. His eyes flexed, flicking to me only for a split second as if my presence affected the far cruder response waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“We’ll see, Thorns.”

“What did you call me?”

Zathrian’s eyes lit up like he’d found a trigger. “The beauty of a rose, but prickly like its thorns. I think it’s fitting.”

“The only prick around here—”

“So, uh, how can you be certain I’ll need a sword?” I said, feeling awkward for sliding in but thinking the two might detonate with any more testing.

“I actually hope for your sake that you don’t,” Rosalind said with a hard edge as she tore her gaze from Zathrian. “Does he need to be here?”

“Kind of.” I shrugged then thought back to what I’d noticed. “Did you come here alone?”

“Yes.”

“No mentor?”

Rose shifted her stance and angled her blade. “No.”

She didn’t want to talk about it, but I had so many questions.

“Why are you helping me?”

Rosalind huffed a laugh, her smile feline before she said, “I’m not.”

She attacked without warning, and I cried out, raising the blade out of nothing more than instinct. The harsh clank that vibrated my arms had me releasing my grip on it. I gasped when cool metal touched my chin as my sword clattered to the ground.

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