Page 30 of Power of Five
Following Coal inside, I find a wooden table and several benches, all surrounded by racks and walls covered with training equipment and glinting steel. The air smells of sharpening stones, sweat, and sand. Leaving me to drop gracelessly onto a bench, Coal steps away to rummage through a trunk by the far wall.
I can’t help watching him. The way each movement is precise and flowing, the way muscle shifts beneath his shirt, the way he crouches smoothly to open the heavy lid. A panther. Gorgeous and dangerous. Deadly. There is no hesitation in anything Coal does either. Not when he walked us onto the sand; not now, when he’s rummaging around in an old trunk. I wonder whether he knows the palace as well as he knows this training ground. And then I’m certain I know the answer.
Coal returns with a small box, removing bandages and a pungent green salve from inside. “You are angry at River for not telling you he is the Slait crown prince, yes,” Coal says quietly, leaning muscled forearms against the table. “But you areangrierbecause you think we all led you on, dangling an invitation to a group you can never be part of. Peasant, slave, indentured servant—whatever you call yourself, you don’t belong among royals and you know it. You aren’t good enough. You never can be.”
Each of Coal’s words pierces my soul, striking its target truer than my fists ever did. “Are you going to claim that none of that is true?” I say, a challenge in my voice.
Coal’s eyes hold mine with infuriating, icy calm. “I won’t. I’m not in the habit of wasting my breath.” Reaching across the table, he draws my left hand toward him. My hand looks absurdly small in his palm, his thumb and forefinger capable of encircling my whole arm. Taking the edge of a bandage, Coal gently dabs the blood from my skinned knuckles, examining the cuts beneath. “You have to discover the truth for yourself, mortal. You won’t believe it otherwise. Not truly.”
Reaching into the salve, Coal smears a small glob of it onto my knuckles. The damn goop stings as horridly as it smells, and I hiss, jerking my arm away.
Coal tightens his grip. “Next time, wrap your hands first and strike with your first two knuckles here.” He traces a gentle finger across the tops of my fingers, making me shiver.
“A bit late for the sage advice,” I say through clenched teeth, reluctantly letting him take hold of my second arm.
Coal’s gaze flickers up to me. “Like I said, I don’t like to waste my breath. You weren’t ready to hear it earlier. You needed to hit the pads first.” Finishing with the cuts, Coal wraps a clean cloth around my knuckles, paying more attention than necessary to tucking in the stray ends. “I can’t draw the sting away,” he says, his voice aimed at the bandage. “But I am very familiar with the sensation.”
I swallow, my heart pounding as my free hand reaches forward to touch Coal’s forearm. River is from Slait. Tye from Blaze. Shade and Kai from Flurry. “What court are you from, Coal?” I ask, hoping he’ll answer me this time.
Coal tenses, his eyes now on the tabletop. “I’m not,” he says quietly. “I’m from Mors.”
