Page 27 of A Song of Air
A Weapon is a Weapon
The sun was shiningon the other side of the portal, and it remained that way for days. Curiosity had Corvina’s head whipping from side to side throughout the journey. Their small party had landed in the kingdom of Ielwyn. They traveled by horse and carriage at a slow pace, though they spent most of the day walking and nights camping.
Nights were hardest for Corvina. She feared that every crack of a twig or breaking of a branch were humans coming to get them. To kill them. She hugged Basil close and tried not to flinch at the sounds. It was only Clay’s presence that brought even a smidge of comfort to her aching soul.
She wasn’t used to this. The walking. Despite having spent hours in the healing baths of Dana before they left, she knew she was at a disadvantage compared to the other Elementals. It wasn’t only that her magic was a touch weaker due to spending most of her life in chains, but also that the abuse she’d suffered had left her hands disfigured, which made holding a sword difficult.
It could be done, of course. She’d done it before in her final confrontation with Tobias. She’d wielded it like she knew how to use it. Clay had tried previously to teach her. She recalled the feel of his body pressed tightly against her backside, the way his warmth and fizzling cider scent enveloped her senses. How his hands felt pressed against hers. A sensual dream, one she didn’t want to wake up from.
That had been in the privacy of the darkness, though.
And even if Corvina had confronted her problems and they’d come out victorious, it was still a difficult task for her to volunteer during the afternoons in which they trained.
Shula and Iona moved together, fighting with swords and magic. There was an artistry in watching the way they moved. Shula moved like she was dancing, being chased by flames. Her whole body moved like fire, and her eyes glowed like vicious embers that would burn down kingdoms.
Iona moved like a force. Corvina had never seen a snowstorm in her life, but she imagined they were brutal. Cold. Calculated. Iona wasfierce.And she showed no mercy. Even during training.
Corvina took a breath one evening, watching them work in tandem. She glared down at her crooked fingers. They didn’t necessarily need to be straight for her to be able to use her magic, but she needed them to hold a weapon. She wondered if there were any she could accommodate to her grip.
It wasn’t as though she wanted to fight, exactly. But it was what she’d agreed to the moment she’d decided to join the Resistance. To help them. To fight for a better world for herself and for her son. And to do that, she needed to know how to wield weapons in those moments her magic might fail.
“My lady...”
She startled, jumping slightly in her seat as Weylyn appeared next to her seemingly from nothing. He was silent, though she should have scented him from smell alone. It was sharp, a mixture of something spicy and sweet and penetrating.
He was regarding her with those glittering, golden eyes of his. His ringed fingers toyed with the ends of his long, black braid almost absently.
“Yes, Weylyn?”
His eyes sparked at her use of his name. Before she could question it, he held his hand out, palm upwards. “Would you care to train with me?”
It felt as though the camp had suddenly gone still to listen in on them. She wondered if this was surprising behavior for him and concluded that it was. In all the days she’d watched everyone train—the prince, the Elementals, and even her own companions Gale, Wren, Juniper, and Dawn—she’d never once seen Weylyn pick up a sword to fight.
He was always watching from the sidelines. A silent spectator who studied everyone’s movements from afar. She wondered if he was calculating, memorizing the manner in which everyone fought so that he knew when the time came—and she wondered if it would—how to defeat them all.
And if he was offering to train with her, what did that mean? Was there an ulterior motive? No, she didn’t think there was. Corvina didn’t trust easily, but she didn’t know why she trusted Weylyn of all people. Maybe because he was an outcast. She saw how the others whispered about him when he strode by, and it reminded her of when she’d been in court. The way the ladies snickered behind their fans and pointed at her like she was a spectacle to be ridiculed.
It drew her to him like a moth to the flame of a candle.
Slowly, she set her crooked fingers into his hand. “Yes.”
Something zapped between the two and she inhaled. It wasn’t the same sensation as when she touched Clay. It was brief, a soft demand. Like a push from Mana itself.
A soft smile touched Weylyn’s mouth and they stood. As he led her towards the clearing, she threw a glance towards where Clay was. Sweat clung to his body from his own training session with Julius. His green eyes flashed a brief second on the spot where her and Weylyn’s hands were joined. A moment later, he sent her a soft smile.
She hadn’t realized the tension in her own shoulders had eased. After years of dealing with Tobias’ jealousy and having to be careful with every move she made, it was comforting to see how Clay was different. If anything, he’d looked...confusedinstead of angry.
