by Avril Sabine
Dore looked around the room. “Dismissed.”
His students quickly rose to their feet, saluting before they hurried from the room. Shadow remained seated since Thornton did.
Dore’s gaze flickered between them, remaining on Thornton after a moment. “Was there something else?” His tone changed to one of mocking subservience. “My lord.”
Thornton shook his head, a lazy smile forming. “No, I like to watch all the rabbits scurry. How are they going to gain a backbone if you whip it out of them?”
“I never raise a whip to my soldiers.”
Thornton chuckled. “I hear it raised all the time. I’m surprised they ever have any skin left on them once you’ve given them a tongue lashing.”
“And yet you still brought me another student.” His gaze darted to Shadow before it returned to Thornton. “What were you expecting?”
Thornton rose to his feet, holding his hand out to Shadow, his smile directed to her. “This one has a backbone of willow. I have no fear for her.”
“I believe the term is steel,” Dore corrected.
Thornton shook his head. “No. Willow. Steel will eventually break.” He flashed a smile at Dore. “I’m curious as to what you’ll do with the ball of wool when you can’t give it to Shadow.”
“I only ever have five in my squad at a time. Someone will be knitting me a baby bonnet next week.” With a sharp nod Dore strode from the room.
Shadow dropped back into her seat, her head into her hands. “What have I done?”
“I believe you got yourself the best trainer in the city.”
Shadow shook her head, dropping her hands to look up at the prince. “No, I’ve ruined some young man’s life.”
Thornton threw back his head and laughed.
Frowning, Shadow rose to her feet and glared at him. “Oh shut up.”
His laughter became a smile. “Did you ever think it might be you getting the ball of wool?”
Shadow shook her head, an image of serving drinks in the tavern as an old woman coming to mind. “No. Never.”
Thornton dropped an arm around her shoulders. “Come along, my willow. Let me escort you to your room. You have an early day tomorrow.”
“Why willow?” She walked along the empty hallway with him.
“Because willow can bend when necessary.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Shadow rolled out of bed, wide awake. Energy coursed through her as she pulled on her trousers and shirt, automatically tipping out her boots after so long on the trail. She buckled on her belt, running her fingers down the pommel of her sword and wishing Carson was here. Her first day training with Dore and she wasn’t going to be late.
She hurried through the hallways and stairwells, making her way to the kitchens first for some freshly cooked pastries to take with her. She was one of the first at the castle training grounds, stopping in the area Thornton had told her Dore held his lessons. She slowly ate the still warm pastries as she leaned against a hitching post waiting for Dore to arrive. By the time he did, there were five young men standing around the area with her.
Dore strode towards them, bellowing, “Fall in, lads.”
Shadow lined up with the five new recruits. She didn’t care what he wanted to call her as long as he trained her. She glanced at those beside her and clasped her hands behind her back, widening her stance like they did.
Dore slowly strode along the line, tossing a ball of grey wool up in the air. Each time he caught it, he’d glance at the person he was next to, then eyes straight ahead he’d walk on, tossing the ball into the air again. Finally he came to a halt in front of the middle of the line and turned to stare at them. “I only ever have five in my squad at a time. Look around you lads. Who here can count?”
One of them raised his hand and quickly dropped it at Dore’s withering stare.
“What a marvel. Only one of you can count. Good job, Vin, amazing trick.”
There was snickering in the line. It drew Dore’s attention.
“Is there a problem, Jurn? Maybe you need a lesson in counting? Possibly showing me you can count to twenty by the amount of push ups you can do.”
“No Sergeant. There’s six here. Sir.” Jurn’s eyes met Dore’s.
“Can anyone tell me what this is?” Dore held up the ball of wool. When there was silence, he gestured towards one of them. “Marsh. What am I holding?”
“Wool, sir. A ball of wool.” Marsh nearly shouted the words.
“And what is wool used for.” Dore pointed the ball at his next victim. “Wirrin?”
“Ladies use it to knit with, sir,” Wirrin said.
“Dalan.” Dore pointed the ball of wool at the last recruit in the line.
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like to knit me a baby bonnet out of this wool?”
“No, sir.”
Shadow struggled to remain quiet. Did he really need to do this? Was he always this way or was it for her benefit? She wanted to call out enough, but she had argued for this chance. Was that what he wanted? For her to ruin her chance in the first hour? Her lips tightened, her hands becoming fists behind her back.
Dore strode along the line one more time before he faced them. “In one week, I’ll be kicking one of you six out of my squad. And that person is going to knit me a baby bonnet.” He tossed the wool into the air again.
“But sir, that’s a girl,” Jurn said.
Dore stepped forward to stand toe to toe with Jurn. “If you can’t do better than a girl then you don’t deserve to be in my squad. Is that understood?” He raised his voice on the question, his eyes travelling the line.
“Yes, sir.” Five voices echoed back.
Dore’s eyes stayed on Shadow, who hadn’t spoken. The moment spun out then he addressed the entire squad. “Swords off. Pair up for hand to hand.” When they didn’t move instantly, he bellowed, “Hurry up lads. I’m going grey standing here.”
Shadow removed her sword and put it with the rest of them. She turned to find Jurn grinning at her, waiting to partner her. She eyed him up and down. He wasn’t much taller than her, but his broad chest and muscular arms were going to put her at a disadvantage. When Jurn cracked his knuckles Shadow had to force herself to remain still. What the hell was she doing here? She must have a death wish. Somewhere deep down, she had to have a death wish.
“Any daggers you have are to remain where they are. Body parts only. Fists, feet, heads, elbows, knees. Does everyone understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Shadow joined in.
“I want your opponent on the ground. You have fifteen minutes then swap partners.” Dore moved away from the paired recruits.
Shadow nearly groaned. This was going to be the longest fifteen minutes of her life, if she survived. She kept her eyes on Jurn, waiting for him to move.
“Don’t stand around gazing into each other’s eyes. This isn’t a romantic dinner. I want to see someone eating dirt. Now,” Dore bellowed.
Jurn’s grin widened and he beckoned her forward. “You hungry?”
Shadow raised her fists. “No thanks. I’ve already broken my fast, how about you?”
His reply was a swing of his fists and Shadow ducked, slipping to the side. Then there was no time to talk. Limbs flew at her. Fists towards her face and stomach, legs tried to sweep her off her feet. She stumbled as she spun away, feeling a glancing blow on her shoulder. That was going to hurt later. She faced Jurn, wishing she could attack rather than duck and weave. How was she going to make anyone eat dirt?
“Change partners.”
It took Shadow a couple of seconds to process the command as she tried to avoid Jurn’s fist. His angry glare as he stepped away didn’t look good. There wasn’t going to be the camaraderie she’d found with Carson’s men, Dore’s earlier speech had assured that outcome.
Her next partner was Marsh. He was tall and solid, but not as broad as Jurn. His reach was also longer than Jurn’s and he managed to get in several hits before she figu
red out his reach. Once again she was on the defensive, finding it impossible to even consider attacking. This time Dore wandered amongst them calling out corrections. Then finally the words she waited for.
“Change partners.”
Shadow faced Wirrin, a short dark haired lad with more strength in his punch then either of the last two. Unless it felt worse because she was tiring.
“Can’t any of you follow a simple direction? Dirt. I want to see someone eat dirt. You’re not trying. None of you are.” Dore’s voice brought them all to a halt. “Did I tell you to stop? No. Now fight. I can’t even see blood. The lot of you are a pack of girls. It looks like I should have brought six balls of wool.”
Shadow winced as Wirrin’s fist connected with her jaw. That was going to bruise, in a major way. She ducked his next fist, striking out with her foot. He jumped out of the way and then she was forced to defend again.
“Shadow. Wirrin. Here.”
They joined Dore and watched and listened as he explained what they were doing wrong. Then he gestured for them to begin again. After several seconds he turned away, calling another pair to him.
When Dore finally called a halt, Shadow wished she could drop to the ground. She wasn’t anywhere near as fit as she’d thought. Unless a week of castle living had made her soft. She had continued her push ups but there’d been nowhere to do chin ups. Maybe she needed to find somewhere.
Now she was no longer focused on trying not to get beaten into the ground, she noticed there were other trainers and their squads using different areas of the training grounds. Maybe she’d have been better off trying to get one of them to train her. Who was she kidding? She wanted the best, even if that meant dragging herself here a couple of hours earlier than all the other squads.
“Grab your swords and follow me.” Dore strode away before any of them had a chance to move.
Then there was a scramble to collect swords and race after Dore. He stopped beside an open chest. Inside were crossbows and bolts. Shadow almost shouted in joy. She wasn’t brilliant with a crossbow, but it had to be a lot easier than being pounded into the ground, and she’d done a lot of training with one.
“Choose a weapon, lads. I’ll be greyer than a misty morning at this rate. Come on. Grab ammunition then line up in front of the targets. I expect every bolt to hit the target. Anyone who gets a bullseye will not be forced to run around the training grounds twenty times when we stop for a meal. Hurry up now.”
Shadow loaded her crossbow and sighted in the target. She hit, missing the bullseye. She frowned. It was different to her crossbow, not as accurate. She tried to think about the adjustments she had to make. A few seconds with her eyes closed and she thought she might have worked it out.
“Bullseye,” Dalan called out. He wore only a vest, no shirt. His slim frame covered in wiry muscles, his hair a brown stubble.
She pulled the trigger and grinned when the bolt hit. “Bullseye.” She reloaded and aimed again. There might be a chance she didn’t fail training after all.
“Bullseye,” Dalan called again.
Shadow grinned when her bolt landed. “Bullseye.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
After their meal break Shadow endured an afternoon of sword drills. Once it was over, she wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend every muscle, bone and inch of her body didn’t hurt. Instead she stood at attention with the rest of the squad, waiting for Dore to finish pacing back and forth in front of them, the ball of wool being tossed into the air.
He stopped abruptly turning to face them. “Dismissed.” His finger pointed at Shadow. “Except you.”
Shadow kept her eyes on Dore, but she still couldn’t miss the glances sent her way as the squad deserted her. She continued to stand at attention, her hands behind her back, her eyes straight ahead, and waited. The moment stretched out, her muscles protested and still Dore stared at her. She bit back her demand to know what he wanted. Was this another one of his tests?
“I should probably thank you.”
Her startled eyes flew to his. There was no humour in them, just the same hard stare as usual. “Why?”
“I’ve never seen them work so hard. If nothing else having you threaten their position in the squad has done wonders for their abilities. This is the first time Dalan hit the bullseye nearly every time.”
Shadow waited. Dore continued to stare silently at her. Annoyance twisted through her as she noticed he didn’t comment on how she’d matched Dalan at his feat. She pushed away the annoyance and tried to picture the willow Thornton believed she was. It didn’t help. All this willow wanted to do was dip her head to the ground, curl up in a ball and never move again. Why on earth had she thought she was up to this? So she’d found the prince, big deal. She’d had help nearly every step of the way.
“Dismissed.”
It took her a moment to realise she could move. Then another moment before her reluctant body obeyed. She nodded at Dore and then turned away, surprised to see Jurn jogging around the perimeter of the training grounds. She felt Dore step up beside her, his gaze also drawn to the young man.
“That lad won’t be getting the wool in seven days. Not with his dedication.”
Shadow groaned when Dore moved away. Jogging? How much more torture did she need to put herself through? She closed her eyes momentarily. She’d made this bargain and she wasn’t going to fail. Bringing to mind the image of herself old, decrepit and serving in the tavern she forced her body to obey. Jogging to the edge of the training ground she fell in behind Jurn. He soon out paced her, but she kept up her steady movements. She could do this. She’d done similar before.
An image filled her mind of spinning around a clearing, arms outstretched as she celebrated twenty chin ups. Her jaw tightened and she winced at the bruise. She could do this. One foot in front of the other. It didn’t have to be fast. Then Jurn was behind her, passing her again.
He was a few steps ahead of her when he sent her a look of contempt. “You’re wasting your time. I’ll bring you a pattern tomorrow so you’ll know how to knit that baby bonnet.”
Her eyes narrowed and her chin came up. “I’ll keep the pattern safe for you.”
Jurn laughed, a humourless, mocking sound. “Keep dreaming little girl.” He pulled ahead of her.
Shadow forced herself to keep to her original pace. Racing ahead would only exhaust her and she’d collapse on the ground. She didn’t need to give Jurn anything else to mock.
The sun filled the sky with splashes of orange and red, darkness creeping in. And still they jogged. Shadow breathed through her mouth, ignoring each screaming protest of her body. Why was she still here? Why wasn’t she begging one of the servants to draw her a hot bath? Jurn jogged past her again, not looking at her. That was why she was still out here in the dark, wondering what the hell she was doing. Tenacity. Or was it stupidity? Probably both. Another figure came up on her right and Shadow glanced over to see Thornton falling into step with her.
“Should I have had your dinner sent here? Or maybe have a tent set up? Any preference to location?”
She could hear Jurn behind her. This time he didn’t pass. She felt like telling Jurn to get lost. Instead she answered Thornton. “And why does this concern you? My lord?”
“Ah, like that huh?” Thornton laughed softly. “I’m hungry and you’re dining with me.” He glanced behind him and waved Jurn forward.
Jurn jogged past, a respectful nod and a quiet, “My lord.”
“Do you think we can call it a night? Before I die of starvation?” Thornton continued to keep pace with her.
She bit back her sigh. Maybe it was time to be a willow. Before she did break and couldn’t even crawl back to the training grounds tomorrow. “I wouldn’t want that after all the effort it took to rescue you.”
“I’ll meet you in your room in an hour. That should give you enough time to bathe before we dine.”
Shadow laughed. “Is that meant to be a polite way of telling me I stink?�
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Thornton grinned at her. “How does pig sound, my lady?”
“Bull would probably be more appropriate.”
“I’ll see you in an hour.” He cut across the training grounds towards the castle.
Shadow started to slow as she watched his guards trailing in his wake at a discrete distance. Then Jurn was beside her, his pace matching hers.
“I was wondering how you’d bought your way into the army.” Then he sped up, giving her no chance to reply.
Shadow came to a halt, glaring after him. She’d show him there’d been no buying involved. She mightn’t have his strength and obviously not his stamina. Yet. But she wasn’t completely unskilled. Look how many times she’d hit the target today. She strode across the training grounds to the castle, heading for her room. By her door stood a servant.
He nodded, “Let me know when you’re finished, my lady.”
Shadow swung her door open and was about to ask, finished what, when she saw the large wooden tub sitting in her room filled with steaming water. Beside it was a bucket of cold water. With the way she felt there’d be no need for the bucket. With a nod of her head, she entered her room, closed the door and quickly discarded her clothes. She winced at the heat of the water, sucking in a deep breath as she lowered herself in further.
How was she going to survive a week? Ducking under the water, she rubbed at her face, biting back the groan as she touched the bruise. Surfacing, she felt a little better. She could survive. The same way she’d survived the army. One day at a time. One second at a time if need be.
Reluctantly climbing from the tub she reached for the soft linen towel and rubbed herself dry, quickly dressing in another one of her unconventional outfits. She reached for her sword, withdrawing it slightly to run her fingers over the engravings, thinking of Carson.
Her fingers tingled and she saw him, head bent as he wrote at the collapsible desk inside the tent. His head lifted like he felt her gaze on him and he glanced around. He looked real enough to touch. Then the flap of his tent was thrown open and Gil entered the tent with a glare. Carson gave a short nod and the scene evaporated.