Page 77 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
“You can take these,” Roxanne offered me a pair of trousers and a tunic, looking me up and down. “They should fit.”
I glanced at the wardrobe she took her clothes out of. “I thought this was Florence’s room.”
“We like to share our rooms,” Roxanne shrugged. “Tell Caleb I won’t train tonight.” She offered as she disappeared into the bathing chambers.
I studied my new attire in the mirror. Roxanne’s black trousers fit as though they were made specially for me. A smallexcited smile appeared on my face when I moved my legs, surprised how comfortable the trousers felt.
A woman cannot wear such outrageous clothing.A small laugh escaped my lips as though I was a naughty child that got away with mischief.
I attached a scabbard to my waist; my eyes couldn’t get enough of the clothes I was gifted. Despite the fact I was yet to know how to wield it, I for sure looked as though I wouldn’t need protection from anyone. Odd feelings of confidence filled me.
My confidence abandoned me when Caleb ordered me around the training hall for the next few nights.
“You have to stay calm.” He swung his wooden stick against mine. “Your emotions are your greatest enemy.” Not a trace of sweat on his skin.
Caleb looked as though this was no more than a warm up no matter the amount of hours we’d spent training; my skin was covered in sweat the moment my hands wrapped around the hilt of my wooden weapon. My heavy breathing echoed through the room as I dodged his blows.
“Have you fought on wooden sticks before?” Caleb asked.
“When I was five,” I rolled my eyes, blocking his next attack.
“Whoever let you hold a real weapon so early made a real mistake.” His stick almost touched my fingers.
“I know how to hold a weapon.” I seethed through clenched teeth.
“Hold it?” Caleb’s brows flew high. “Maybe. Fight with it?” He chuckled; his stick flew mere inches from my face. “I am surprised you haven’t injured yourself with it before.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you?”
“Once,” I admitted quietly.
“Only once?” He laughed, almost knocking the weapon out of my hand. “Focus!”
“Stop distracting me with your chatter.” My grip around the hilt tightened.
“If something as simple aschattercan distract you, you will lose the moment your opponent takes out their weapon.” He laughed at my attempt to attack. “You have the skill of a ten year old. Who taught you this hideous technique?”
Blood rushed in my veins, my jaw clenched. I ignored his question as his stick landed on the back of my palm finally knocking the weapon out of my grasp.
I glanced at my reddened skin, picking up the stick. My hand wrapped around the hilt as I charged towards him. “Are you here to teach or insult me?” I seethed.
“Whatever gets the job done.” Caleb snorted, shortening the distance between us: forcing me against the wall. “You seem to prefer the latter.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I spat out.
“We have been at it for hours and yet you only showed signs of strength when I angered you,” Caleb retorted. “Though it also makes you distracted.” His stick landed on my ribs. The air escaped my lungs. “Anger is good, but only when it’s controlled.”
“I loathe you,” I said at last, swinging my weapon in his direction again with more power.
“Good,” he nodded. “Now try to actually hit my stick and not the air.”
A groan escaped me as I almost smashed the stick out of his hand.
“Better.” Caleb lowered his weapon, charging toward the door. “We are done for tonight,” he said as the door closed behind him.
Catching my breath, I slid down the wall. Cold stone floor calmed my heating flesh. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my tunic when my gaze fell on the polished red bow.
My wobbly legs carried me towards the weapon; my fingers felt the smooth wood.
My hand wrapped around the grip. I’d never shot a bow before, but Brian had loved it. He often showed off his skill to me and Sandra.
