Page 42 of Dead Wrong

“Is that the best you have?” Cirian questioned, his onslaught relentless.

Gritting my teeth, my foot slid from under me, setting me off balance, and I tried to knock away another thrust, but the tip of Cirian’s saber struck me in the hip. I sucked in breath as pain radiated down my leg.

“Fourth point to Master Cirian.”

Cirian pulled his blade back, letting his stance fall as he pushed up the scrim. His usual cocky smile was absent this time. “Tell you what, Toto. If you can manage to win this bout, I’ll tell you why I picked that darling little nickname for you.”

“How kind of you,” I scoffed, massaging the soon-to-be bruise on my hip.

“I’m serious,” Cirian replied, taking up his position once more. “You have the ability. Don’t hold back, and you’ll get the reward you’re seeking.”

“Ready?”

Not sure if I believed him, I took my place quickly, eying Cirian.

What was his angle?

“Begin.”

I stuck first, swirling my blade in a quick flourish and thrusting. Cirian deflected the attack, responding in kind, but I quickly sidestepped the attempt. Our blades met once again, exchanging glancing blows back and forth. Sweat built on my brow as the bout stretched on for longer than any previous, neither of us giving the other an opening.

“Come now, Toto,” spurred Cirian, a ferocity in his tone that sunk into my skin. “You can’t expect to win with timidity. Show me your mettle!”

A grunt of frustration escaped through my lips as I whipped my blade haphazardly. Cirian easily evaded the clumsy haymaker, disarming me with a blow to the back of my hand. The saber clattered to the ground as Cirian gently pressed the tip of his sword to my chest.

“The point and the bout go to Master Cirian,” the grey-haired man announced in a dull tone.

Still panting from the effort of the bout, I wiped my brow after removing the mask, the sting of embarrassment lingering in my cheeks from my childish outburst. He’d defeated me in more ways than one.

I swore he’d never do it again.

The red-headed boy sheathed his weapon, lifting up his visor to give me a small smile. The first streaks of daylight broke through the foliage, transfiguring the sheen of perspiration on his face to a glistening dew that twisted my insides the longer I stared. There was something almost sad in the way he looked at me, but the emotion fluttered away as he spoke.

“Better luck next time, Toto. Want to go again?”

* * *

Cirian carried me away from the camp and into the darkness of the woods for some time, the sound of his steady breathing and my stifled grunts of pain the only noise to break up the eerie silence that surrounded us. I dared not speak till I knew it was safe to. Then again, even if we weren’t fleeing for our lives, what would I say? I knew not whether the man who carried me considered me friend or foe. The last time we’d seen each other, he’d seemed hellbent on ridding the world of my existence, but there was an airiness in the way he looked now compared to then. Like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“What exactly were you doing out there, Toto?”

Cirian’s deep voice rumbled against my body, sending chills across my skin like a cool breeze.

“Renata found me,” I answered, taking the calculated risk of telling the truth. “The captain of Mother’s militia. She was leading the assault but got sidetracked trying to get me to safety.”

“And did you wish to leave?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory but more so curious.

I’d have to decide which way to lean. Had Cirian been a part of the assault against the Rebellion? It seemed strange that the Church would have sent someone like him into the fray unless negotiations were in order. And I knew how Mother felt about negotiations. So, did that mean the rumors Lorelei Orion had thrown in his face were true, and he was there alongside the Rebellion? Would that be enough to change his thinking of me being brought back to life by a Reviled?

“Toto? Are you still with me?”

“No,” I answered. “I wasn’t trying to escape, I mean. I was waiting for someone.”

“Ah, yes. Your Reviled friend.”

His stoic features remained unchanged in the dim moonlight, much to my chagrin. He’d always been difficult to read, now even more so in adulthood. So, I decided to change tactics and ask some questions of my own.

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