Page 18 of Tiger's Trek
“It’s useless. The men just drool all over my skirts, and the women are so busy hating me or destroying me with gossip that they can’t see the good I can do.”
“That is a problem,” he agreed.
“So you understand, then. It needs to be Stacia.”
He grunted. “I think everything will be clearer once you finish the tasks you need to accomplish here. I find that if you let problems sit for a bit, just like tea, the leaves settle, and you can see to the bottom. Then you often discover it’s not as difficult to sift through as you first believed. It’s the constant stirring that’s the issue with most things. Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, shall we?”
Veru sighed. “Fine. Tell me what I need to do so I can get on with it.”
“I can see you feel determined as to your future.”
“I do, but that isn’t really something you need concern yourself with.”
“I disagree. My role is to help all of you become your best selves. The concern I feel for you is natural, I assure you.”
“Just not as natural as it might be for your own princes.”
“Perhaps not yet,” he agreed. “But don’t disregard my experience simply because I’m still learning about all of you and your world.”
Veru gave the man a long look and sipped her tea. Then she took a several long gulps, draining the mug, and said, “It’s no sbiten, but I suppose any man who grows these sour... what do you call them?”
“Lemons,” Kadam said with a grin.
“Right, lemons, and pours enough sugar in the mug to sweeten them up knows enough about balance to teach mesomething.” Veru dipped her finger into her mug and lifted out the slice of lemon, squeezing the remaining juice between her fingers and smelling the rind. “Do you have a knife?” she asked.
He reached into a bag and handed her a small knife with an ivory handle. She unclipped the sheath and slid it out. The blade was sharp and well cared for, and it fit in her hand as if it had been made for her. Veru twirled it around and between the fingers of her dominant hand, getting the balance of the blade. Then she set the slice of lemon on the edge of the mug and began flicking the knife back and forth between her hands, picking up her speed.
Though she favored her left hand, she’d long ago taught herself to use both hands with equal skill. Her father and various weapons masters had trained both sisters in how to shoot all manner of archery weapons and use various types of swords. Her sister preferred swords as her weapon of choice, but Veru had always favored daggers. She carried at least twelve on her person at all times, including a few hidden within her boots.
She even had specially made leather gloves that concealed small knives that she occasionally wore to state dinner parties. One never knew when a spy might slip in undetected. Of course, her mother always stationed guards, but there was nothing like the kiss of cold, hard steel against the vulnerable pulse point at the wrist to make a girl feel safe. Veru would always grin when a man would try to corner her and kiss her wrist, only to discover he was pressing his hot lips against sharp metal instead of her soft skin.
As she twirled the knife, lost in her thoughts, Kadam watched her practice her skill. His fascination with her technique soon turned to awe and then stunned appreciation. He knew she was only playing, but she was good. No, she was more than good. She was adept. Deadly, even. She might have even given Deschen a run for her money.
Before Kadam realized her full intentions, the knife was at his throat and she was behind him, her arm wrenching back his forehead to expose the length of his neck. He clicked his tongue, chiding himself for losing focus, for being too soft. Just because he instinctively knew she wouldn’t hurt him didn’t mean he should let his guard down. After all, even a caged tiger can scratch. He blamed his age. He needed to do better if he was going to mentor these young people and find a way back to his own. Closing his eyes, he centered himself and breathed in, then let out a long, slow breath.
Veru asked nothing, and Kadam said nothing. Instead, reflex took over. It had been a long time, but Kadam still possessed the basic skills he needed to overcome an enemy. Quickly, he maneuvered himself under her arm, disappearing before she even had a chance to tighten her hold. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it quickly, hard, so the knife flew from her grip.
Deftly, he plucked it from the air before it fell to the ground and tucked it into his belt, before flipping her by using her own wrist. Her feet flew over her head, but she managed to twist in the air, landing on one foot and kicking him in the head with the other. Kadam turned away in time, so the worst of the blow was deflected.
She bent to pick up a large stick and launched a new attack, which he easily deflected with his bare arms, eventually tossing her branch aside. When that was out of reach, she pulled a burning branch from the fire and brandished it at him.
“Why do you seek weapons instead of fighting hand to hand?” he asked. “I find it oddly curious. You’re obviously capable. And yet you go out of your way to seek something to use against your attacker.”
“And I find it curious that you’d rather talk than fight,” Veru retorted.
Kadam knocked away the burning branch and grabbed her hand, easily shifting her weight and tossing her over his shoulder. She fell with a thump on top of a still-sleeping Danik, who spluttered awake with confusion.
“Hey, now. What’s happening? Where’s the fire? Don’t step on my instrument.”
He pushed Veru off and leaped on top of his domra, shielding it from harm.
“Nobody fell on your precious guitar,” Veru said sulkily as she rose to her feet and patted away the dust from her skirt. When she tripped on a torn hem, she cursed under her breath, ripped off the offending edge, and wrenched up her hair into a ponytail, tying it with the torn fabric.
“It’s not a guitar,” Danik said, yawning while rubbing his chest where Veru had landed a moment before. “Why were you two fighting, anyway? Was it about breakfast? Did he not save me any? If not, then you have my permission to kick him again.”
“It wasn’t about your breakfast. We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“Indeed,” Kadam replied, returning to his various bags. “We were about to start cooking when the tsarina offered to demonstrate her skill with knives.”
