Page 39 of Cursed Shadows 1

So when he looks upon me, does he see weakness? Does he admire those majestic females of light and dark alike who wield their swords like a third arm that belongs to them?

No…

He still wants me. He still desires me.

I have him.

What I have is uncertain, but I know it’s something.

Maybe he should be more guarded in how he watches me, so fiercely, so openly. But he stays near the alcove, and just like the first time I danced in front of him, he watches.

Studies the purposeful sways of my hips, drags his gaze up the nakedness of my stomach to the smooth curve of my neck—then, he sabotages himself as he lifts his gaze to my face.

And there, attention stays.

The full dance, all thirty-odd minutes of it, he stands—and watches.

Fools, the pair of us. But I don’t fool myself too much. Eamon didn’t lie when he told me Daxeel wants to kill me… so this just means he might want to fuck me first.

9

††††††

The short heels of my black lace-up boots clop over the stone wall. I walk along it, like it’s a parapet overlooking the battle blocks beyond the courtyard.

I’m completely aware of how conspicuous I am up here, watching them down there.

I’m not the only one who’s gathered to see the first day of training. Fae lurk all around, at the windows of the garrison, the roofs of the towers, the mounds of the hills, and some even get close enough to smell the sweat and blood on the contenders.

This month leading up to the Sacrament’s first passage has officially begun—and it does seem it will be just a whole lot of training. Out there, on the sparring rings, fighting mats, target fields, assault courses, every single contender fights through the heat of the Breeze.

And it is stuffy.

Even I, in just a satin peacock-blue slip, and boots that only come up to my ankles, feel the unkind thickness of the warm air I breathe, and the threat of sweat that comes with the clamminess of my skin.

Humid.

I hate that. Not great for satin, but I can’t afford silk.

My gaze shifts around, from mat to ring, dagger to axe, razored whips to throwing stars, bloodied fae to broken bones.

At first, I came out here to watch Pandora train. But on the way, I bumped into father in the corridor, and he told me she was feeling poorly, sick in her room.

I wonder if she’s having a hard time still adjusting to the darkness.

Maybe it was easier and quicker for me to acclimate because I’m only half litalf, and it’s her fullblood or even her sprite heritage that makes the adjustment to the dark rougher.

But then, as I look out to the battle blocks, I don’t see any signs of illness in the litalves.

No matter, I still found my way out here.

Keeping a safe enough distance, I climbed the lattice and vines up the top of the looming wall, because Eamon isn’t around this Breeze and I feel safer up this high with no one around to keep me safe.

For hours, I just watch the fighters.

What else is there to do?

Most of them, I guess, have been training for this their whole lives. And most of them know they are not competing to win, but for honour.

---