Page 134 of Faeling
Ravenna followed the orcess through the courtyard and around the barracks to the back training yard. It was thankfully almost empty, most of the guards having already completed their training and headed inside for breakfast.
As Asta rummaged through a barrel full of wooden swords, Ravenna asked, “Are you doing this to help me or annoy Vallek?”
“Why can’t it be both?” the orcess snickered. “Besides, we all know, even Vallek, that you will be the one to deliver the killing blow. Keeping it between fae.” She threw Ravenna a wink over her shoulder. “Now, what are you already comfortable with?”
A bit more rummaging procured a practice sword with theright amount of heft for Ravenna. It was one more commonly used by young, untrained recruits, half the size of normal orcish swords. She also pulled out a wooden dirk; a standard small dagger for an orc but for her, a longer weapon almost half the length of her sword.
Asta’s brows rose in interest. “The dual-handed style, hmm? I’m intrigued.” Pulling out a serviceable common sword for herself, Asta led her to the center of the training yard. “All right, show me what you know—”
Ravenna’s sword smacked against Asta’s, thrown up just in time. The orcess grunted, dancing backwards, and Ravenna followed, pressing her advantage of surprise.
Her father had spent long years training her in the art of swords and daggers. It was an ancient way of fighting, preferred more by the common fae fighter than the elegant fencing practiced by the noble sword masters. It took considerable concentration, training, and daring—dirks were meant to get in close and stab.
Asta guffawed before getting her feet under her. In a moment, she’d stabilized herself to counter Ravenna’s onslaught. The orcess used her superior strength, sending Ravenna skipping backwards.
Retaking her stance, Ravenna braced as Asta rushed her.
Back and forth they danced across the training yard, kicking up dust. Asta was a better and bigger fighter, but Ravenna was fast. And mean. She didn’t hesitate raking the dull blade of her dirk across Asta’s calf when she had the chance, a blow that would’ve severed the tendons in her heel had they fought with real blades.
Still, that was the worst blow she landed against her opponent. Asta came at her with all her strength, pushingRavenna back. She had to use both sword and dirk to catch Asta’s downward stroke. Her arms shook under the strain of keeping the sword at bay—just for Asta to punch her in the undefended gut.
—white eyelashes—a white unicorn with violet eyes and a lilac horn—a stream burbled through the meadow—fire crackled across her eyes—
Ravenna went sprawling back into the dirt. She suspected that had hardly been a tap from the strong orcess, but still, it rendered her splayed on the ground.
When she finally got some air back in her lungs, Ravenna chuckled as she wiped at her grimy brow. A great shadow fell over her, Asta’s hand appearing near her face.
She took it, letting the orcess heft her back to her feet in one pull.
“Let’s not tell Vallek about that one, yes?”
“Definitely not.” Shaking off more dust, she said, “Well, can I be taught to fight dirty?”
“Of course. You’ve already got impressive skill. Although, it’s not fightingdirty.” Asta winked. “It’s fightingsmart.”
Oberon didn’t much care that she was getting beaten to a pulp every day by Asta, he still insisted on seeing her in person once every three days. He wasn’t keen on the plan for vengeance, even scowling at Vallek for a whole afternoon when he learned the orc had promised Ravenna the Fae Queen’s head.
You’re supposed to keep her alive,Oberon grumbled his displeasure with Vallek,not support her ridiculous plans.
Wanting to avenge them isn’t ridiculous,she told him for thethousandth time.
Oberon stamped his front right hoof.It is when you go off and get yourself killed.
I’m not going to do that. I’ll have Vallek with me, and two hundred of his best warriors.
Oberon huffed in his horsey way, thick lips flapping.You’re young. You haven’t seen what she’s truly capable of.
No? She killed my parents, Obi. She tortured—the thought caught with a sob in her throat—maman.
That’s the least of what she’ll do if she gets her hands on you.
Vallek had only grown more concerned as the silence stretched for him, watching their wordless argument. Eventually, they just had to leave their argument there, at an impasse.
Ravenna hated being at odds with the two most important males in her life—Oberon over seeking revenge at all, Vallek over who would deliver the killing blow—but just like with the waiting, she had to learn to bear it.
She hoped, when they returned three days later, that Oberon would at least be a little more reasonable.
Instead, he changed tactics.
