Page 19 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
It was a gift from my father when I turned nineteen. “A uniquely perfect weapon for a perfectly unique mind,” he had said when he handed it to me. And unique it was: black steel mined from the mountains to the north wraps around the body of the spear—made from the thick bark of the pirang tree—from the leaf-shaped tip on one end to the solid cap gracing the other. Our kingdom’s sigil was engraved on the cap, and through it, my father had even spelled the spear to be impenetrable, unable to break or nick when hit with a sword.
Haylee smirks, her pink lips pulling up to the side, as she finally lifts her own sword and returns to the first position. “Maybe the cause of my tiredness could be the solution to your snippy attitude,” she quips before attacking, lunging forward as she brings her blade down, the motion fluid and form perfect. I block her attack, metal singing as we clash together.
“I thought you said I was feisty. Now I’m snippy?”
We break apart and begin to circle each other. My muscles tense as I rotate my spear in my hand, the movement as familiar as breathing, while I map out my attack. I’ve sparred enough times with Haylee that she is keenly aware of how I fight—and how often I like to change things up. Patience has never been her strong suit though, so after a few more seconds of baiting her, she goes on the offensive. Gripping her sword tightly with both hands, she swings from left to right as she advances on me. I parry each of her moves, holding her off. When she glances away for a second, to someone or something behind me, I slide the spear down her sword quickly and jerk my arms as I forcefully snap the body of my spear into her side. Not enough to injure, but enough to sting.
“Haylee, you’re distracted,” I taunt, lowering my spear beside me as I begin to circle her again. She’s a few inches shorter than I am, but what she lacks in height she more than makes up for in fortitude and grit.
“At least I have a reason to be distracted,” she hisses. “How long has it been foryou?” One of the things I like about my friendship with Haylee is that she isn’t afraid to be honest with me, including when she makes fun of me. Though, it hasn’t been as long as she is assuming since I’ve beendistracted. My night with Gosston flutters briefly on the edges of my mind, causing me to shudder before I push the memory away. It has been a few days since our drunken coupling, and thankfully, I haven’t seen him since then. I also haven’t spoken to Daje since the public forum, where we got into a heated argument.
Haylee spins suddenly, her sword lifting over her head as she faces me. In one swift motion, her blade swings down. I brace my hands on my spear and block her attack, my shoulders straining with the effort. Our weapons cross in front of us as we lean in towards each other in the hopes that the other will give up.
“You’ve gotten stronger,” I state, sweat beading down the sides of my face. Haylee winks, pushing forward as her biceps bulge with the effort of her attack. Stepping back too quickly for her to prepare for, she stumbles before I kick out my left leg and sweep her feet out from under her. Haylee grunts when her back hits the ground, a curse leaving her lips as I stand above her—my spear pointing at her chest.
“I surrender, bitch,” she huffs, breathing heavily as she sprawls out on the ground.
Chuckling, I take a seat next to her and stretch my legs out in front of me, carefully laying my spear down at my side. We rest in a small field of pillow grass, named for how incredibly comfy and, well, pillowy it is. The blades are a rich dark green so thick that, as they grow longer, they begin to fold over themselves. It’s perfect for training in bare feet and for cushioning your falls.
“Is that any way to address royalty?” I jest, laughing as she groans and punches me in the leg. “Do you want to go another round?”
“I would rather roll around in that mud over there.” She points to a small pit on the other side of the field. A sudden sly smile lights up her face as she rolls onto her side. My eyes narrow at her in response, knowing she’s about to say something that will likely make me want to hit her again. “You could always spar with Daje,” she teases quietly as her eyes dart across the training yard to where he is practicing with Arin.
Both men are shirtless, their muscles gleaming in the sunlight with sweat as they fight with their swords. Even staring at Daje like this, I don’t see him as anything other than a friend. There is no urge to trace my fingers down his defined stomach or shoulders. Or to run them through his dark brown hair.
“The man would let you walk all over him. I mean that literally, Bahira. You could actually walk all over him, and he would probably die of happiness. Or maybe just come—”
“Stop,” I cut her off, my hand slicing the air with the word. Haylee, like my mother, thinks Daje and I would be a happy couple. And I suppose if platonic cordiality were the only key factor in a relationship, we would be. Daje’s friendship has brought me joy and happiness since our childhood. When the children my age joked and taunted me for my lack of magic, he had befriended me and come to my defense. Sighing, my head tilts back and my eyes close. I don’t want to think about Daje and the awkward tension between us after our argument, so I focus on my schedule today instead. After training, I need to visit the library to hopefully find some inspiration for my experiments. I don’t know how much longer I can test on plants before I need to move on to something else. For the first time since I’ve started researching, I feel unsure of how to proceed. How can I figure out what is blocking our fucking magic when every experiment I’ve tried thus far has failed? Therehasto be something I’m missing.
A warm breeze blows across my face, the salty air blending with the scent of the grass around us. Our training grounds are on the south edge of the capital city Galdr, situated close to the ocean, and from here I can hear the rolling of the waves. A small feeling of bitterness roils my stomach at the thought that I’ve never been able to swim in the blue waters of the sea. Not because of the Spell, but because the sirens patrol all of the waters around the continent, so it’s not a risk worth taking. Though their song only works on men, their rumored ruthlessness is not limited to a single sex.
The clashing of distant swords takes me out of my head and back to the sparring going on around me. From self-defense and weapon training to learning how to wield magic, these grounds house it all. Surrounded by a thick ring of twisting pirang trees, the middle field is completely open to the sky above with a few crested hills and small ponds. Lining most of the ring is an obstacle course built into the trees while also incorporating the earth, rocks, and water. Dotted throughout the grounds are pockets of mages grouped together based on their experience level. Together, they will spar with various weapons, learn how to take down and defend themselves against opponents, as well as pick a combat specialty to sharpen. Our instructor, Dilan, often has us rotate to different areas of the grounds to focus on strengthening every aspect of our defense.
There is balance in using what the Continent has provided to train with, both in magic and simply in life. Though I haven’t taken any of the magic courses for obvious reasons, I have read the majority of the texts used in teaching them. With that information and Nox’s secondhand account, I’ve learned how important balance is when wielding magic. All magic use has a toll. The cost usually involves extreme focus while wielding it and the need to rest immediately after so that it can slowly replenish. This balance is unique to each person, though when I’ve watched Nox practice with his, he is able to expend more magic and recover far more quickly than anyone else. I lean back, bringing my elbows to the ground as I bask in the direct sunlight.
“Bahira, do you want to spar with me?” The question comes from a voice so deep that I nearly startle.
Slowly, I lift my head forward, my hair sliding over my shoulders as my eyes open and take in the owner. He is incredibly tall, his broad shoulders easily double my own while his arms are as thick as my thighs. The size of his jaw, which is dusted in dark stubble, has me convinced he could easily chew through stone. He’s handsome, but in a harsh sort of way. Curly black hair cut close to his head is the only thing about him that softens his rugged features. I’ve seen him before, around the training grounds, but only from a distance. He’smuchmore impressive up close.
“You know, Bahira was just talking about how she could use a distraction,” Haylee practically purrs from my side, winking over at the man.
His dark gaze slowly travels over my body, and I can’t help the way my thighs clench together in response. He catches the movement, pupils flaring for a brief second before he recovers.Oh yes, he definitely wants to be distracted too.I watch as he holds out his massive hand, brows furrowed in concentration as blue light plucks and manipulates a long blade of pillow grass into the shape of a flower.
“Is that supposed to impress me?” I quip, raising a brow as the pillow grass flower comes to rest on my lap. A brutish smile grows on his face as he steps closer and reaches out his hand to help me up. I’m desperate to erase the thought of Gosston and distract myself from the lack of progress with my work, both of those things he candefinitelyhelp with. His skin is darker than my own, a rich brown that would absolutely gleam against the white silk of my sheets. I can easily imagine him tangled with me in them. Grabbing my spear, I let him help me up, his large, calloused hand squeezing mine before letting go.
“Maybe a little,” he replies with a waggle of his eyebrows. I roll my eyes, falling into step with him as we walk away from the crowded area to find one more secluded to spar in.
“Have fun!” Haylee sings at our backs. I’m not sure if she’s watching me, but I raise my arm and give her the middle finger just in case. Based on the laughter that follows, I know she saw.
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” I say, keeping my gaze forward and on the small pockets of sunlight streaming through the trees ahead. Around us, the other mages train, the reverberation of steel weapons and magic zinging in the air.
“My name is Max.”Gods, his voice is so deep.
“Well, Max, I have a wager for you. Ifyouwin, you can pick whatever prize you want.”
That gets his attention as we stop near the edge of the trees. He pulls his sword from the sheath on his back, the movement flexing every muscle not covered by his white sleeveless tunic.
“And ifyouwin?” he counters, angling his body as he steps one foot back and brings his sword into both hands. His thighs strain so tightly against his black trousers, I briefly wonder how they haven’t ripped. Mirroring his stance, I lift my own weapon, twirling the spear until it’s pointed at him.
