Page 61 of The Coven of Ruin
“I’ll save it. For another time.” Her words came out breathy, nonetheless.
Something unreadable crossed his features and dimmed the firestorms in his eyes. “Another time,” he agreed. And then he stepped away from her, already paces away, when she turned to look at him. He peered back at her over his shoulder as he reached the door. “You kept my tunic, I see.”
As the door shut with a finality of a thud, she felt empty, naked even. As if she had given up armor and got none in return.
Chapter XXVI
WhenTristaaskedZyanato train her over lunch two days later, she didn’t think the witch would immediately jump at the opportunity.
“This is where you go every day?” Demurielle asked, peering around the empty chamber, her eyes lingering on the large dust motes and cobwebs.
“No, I spar with Najim elsewhere. This,” Zyana said, holding her arms out, “is whereweare going to train.”
Walking to a far corner, Zyana picked up three wooden daggers. She tossed one to Demurielle, who stepped out of its path, abhorrence evident on her face. As the mountain witch threw one to Trista, she attempted to catch it, only for it to clatter to the ground.
Zyana blew out a breath. “Right, we have our work cut out for us then.”
“I love you,” Demurielle started, “but Irefuse.“ Tiptoeing to a small, cushioned bench, the only furniture in the place, she worked on clearing it of dust. Once satisfied, she sat down on it, crossing one leg over the other.
“What if you were attacked and yourmagewas not there to defend you?“ Zyana asked, flipping her own wooden dagger over in her hand. “Or you try to throw a punch that would have otherwise shattered your wrist.”
Trista had forgotten that, in her anger, Demurielle had almost punched Kace.
Demurielle’s cheeks pinkened as she contemplated the questions. “I just want a soft life.” She looked between them, vulnerable and uncertain. “There’s already so much death, terror, and hardness in the world. I want to remain… soft. Is that too much to ask for?” Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Zyana stepped toward her hesitantly, but then stopped herself from closing the distance.
“It isn’t,” Trista murmured.
“Keep being soft.” Zyana’s voice was suddenly raspier.
Demurielle nodded, swiping away the tears before they fell, collecting herself before she had even fallen apart.
“Besides,” Trista continued, “The Triune doesn’t need three warriors.”
Zyana nodded in agreement. “We would be far too powerful and have to go to foreign lands and create our own coven. And that would be such a hassle. We need someone to hold us together and remind us of the good.”
“I’m sorry.” Demurielle sniffed. “But I will watch you two and ensure you’re training hard since the responsibility will fall on you. I’ll even allow one break per hour.” She held up one finger and then regally gestured for them to begin.
“We salute you, oh merciful witch,” Zyana said, placing her hand over her heart.
“And I wouldn’t be opposed to learning how to throw a solid punch, I guess.”
Zyana smirked. “I’ll take it.”
And so, after breakfast or lunch, she trained with Zyana. Demurielle often watched them or brought knitting projects to work on. In the evening, Trista would go to the tower and work on translating, though she didn’t stay as long as she used to, her thirst for knowledge quickly slipping away with the lack of progress.
She hadn’t been alone with Ares since he had come to her room that night. The last week had been quiet evenings spent with Brune again. Occasionally, Grae would stop in, and they would play cards while she worked.
Tonight, though, it was only Grae who opened the door with a broad grin. “My favorite witch,” he greeted.
“Good evening, Grae,” she said, trying to hide her labored breaths from the god.
Letting her pass, he gestured toward a small bruise on her cheek where Zyana had clipped her in training. “Getting into fights now, are we?”
Brushing her fingers over the mark, a sense of pride rushed through her veins. “No, just training with Zyana.”
“Ah,” Grae exhaled. “Well, she is rather proficient with the blade, I’ll give her that.” He looked at her sideways. “Don’t tell her I said that, though.”
