Black as Night

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Point your blade higher,” Sir Durum said to me, his tone gruff. “Have you completely forgotten how to hold a knife?”

I adjusted my grip, ignoring the gritty perspiration on my forehead. All hope that the arms master would go easy on me had fled the moment I stepped into the sawdust-floored training arena. Sir Durum had directed Neeve to face off against Kian, then brusquely told me to practice lunging against one of the stationary targets.

I’d assumed a fighting stance and landed a few weak blows before he stopped me, shaking his head.

“We’ll have to start from the beginning, I see. Wrap your thumb more tightly around the grip. Now, hold your center of gravity.”

He pushed my shoulder, and I swayed but managed not to stumble out of my fighter’s crouch. Already I could feel my legs starting to tremble from the strain of holding the position.

Across the arena, Neeve and Kian were nimbly dancing about one another, swords flashing. The musical clash of their blades provided a counterpoint to my rasping breaths. Both of them seemed as skilled as ever, and once more I despaired. Why did my body insist on being so clumsy?

“Aim for the ribs,” Sir Durum said, pointing at the straw dummy before me. “Then angle the blade up.”

I nodded and lunged forward once more, stabbing my knife into the vaguely human-shaped target. The blade stuck in the straw, and I grunted as I tried to push it upward.

The weapons master gave me a dour look. “Again.”

After three more tries, each worse than the last, I glanced at him.

“Might I rest a moment?” I asked timidly.

He let out a grunt that I took as an affirmative. Slowly, I straightened. My limbs felt like limp rags, squeezed of all strength. I drew a shaky arm over my sweaty forehead.

“Be gentle with her,” Kian called, sparing me a glance.

Neeve took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to dart forward, but he leaped back and parried her blow. I was glad to see they’d donned protective leather chest pieces and armguards. Their days of training with wooden practice swords were long past.

“I’m all right,” I said, trying to deny the dizziness sweeping over me.

Sir Durum studied me a moment, expression impassive.

“Sit,” he finally said, gesturing to one of the hay bales scattered around the edges of the arena.

I sheathed my blade, then wobbled over to the bale and sank down with a sigh. How long would it take me to regain the basic strength I seemed to have lost?

A rustle behind me made me sit up straight and glance over my shoulder. Mice? I couldn’t believe Sir Durum would allow rodents in his training arena, although there were mice dwelling in the castle. Even a large, cold pile of stones was better than a muddy hole in the ground, I supposed.

The noise came again, and I peered into the shadows. Whatever it was sounded larger than a mouse. Sudden worry seized me; maybe a creature from the Darkwood had breached the walls. Thus far, my encounters with the denizens of the forest had not been pleasant, with the exception of the White Hart. Even the bear that saved me on my first journey to Castle Raine had been terrifying.

A pair of glowing eyes flashed from the darkness, and I let out a yelp of surprise. Not a loud one, but Neeve still heard it.

“Hold,” she said to Kian, then looked over at me. “What is it?”

“Something’s there.” I gestured to the back wall. “Some sort of animal.”

“It’s just a cat,” Neeve said.

“A cat?”

“Aye,” Sir Durum said. “One of the kitchen cats whelped here over the summer. They’ve all left, except the runt.”

I glanced into the shadows again. “The runt? What’s its name?”

Sir Durum gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s a runt. It doesn’t have a name. Neeve, Kian, back to sparring—your attack-defend sequences need work.”

Neeve raised an eyebrow at me, then pivoted back to Kian, blade flashing. Grinning, he met her assault, and I was forgotten. Sir Durum turned his attention to them, and I let out a breath of relief as his heavy gaze moved elsewhere.

Even though he knew how sick I’d been, the weight of his expectation was like a pile of stones upon my shoulders. Luckily, there was a distraction at hand.

I swiveled on the prickly straw, searching for a sign of the cat. Nothing moved in the shadows, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“Hello, kitten.” I waggled my fingers. “You can come out.”

During my childhood in Parnese, I’d adopted all manner of street creatures: cats, dogs, birds, squirrels, even lizards and snakes. My mother, however, had refused to harbor any of them—especially the reptiles—and so I’d had to be content with slipping treats to the dogs that slept in the alleyways and the cats sunning themselves on ledges, or sprinkling a handful of crumbs for the birds flocking the square beside the fountain.

Now, however, I had my own suite of rooms to use as I pleased. Even to keep a cat, provided the feline was inclined to let itself to be befriended.

“Kitkit,” I coaxed. “Here, kitten.”

A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked at me from the gap between the hay bale and the wall. Then, slowly, the cat emerged. Its fur was the color of smudged charcoal, and it moved with a strange, lurching gait.

As it rounded the bale, I saw why. Its left hind leg was missing. Involuntarily, I glanced at the stub of pinky on my left hand. Although losing a leg would be far worse than a mere finger, I felt as though we matched in some way.

“Were you born like that?” I asked the cat. “I wasn’t—not that it matters. You seem to be getting along perfectly well.”

The cat sat down just out of reach, blinked once, then began grooming itself. It was a female, and small, as Sir Durum had said. And clearly not inclined to being sociable. Well, I could work with that. I’d befriended Neeve, after all.

“Rose,” Sir Durum called. “Back to your lunges.”

I glanced at him and nodded. When I looked back, the cat was gone.

For once, I looked forward to weapons training, as it meant I could try to entice the cat out with bits of my leftover lunch. The next day she was nowhere to be seen, but the practice after that she accepted a morsel of cheese. I had to lay it on the ground first and pull away before she’d come near, but I hoped she’d eventually accept food from my hand.

“Why bother with a three-legged runt?” Neeve asked as we headed for the arena, giving a pointed glance to the napkin I’d folded around the few scraps of chicken I spared from my meal.

Because I’m lonely, I wanted to say. But my stepsister didn’t understand that emotion, and I didn’t want her to think me weak.

“It gives me something to do during my rest breaks. Watching you and Kian whack at each other is tiresome.”

“You might learn something,” she replied, a hint of frost in her tone, though she knew I was teasing.

“I’m as hopeless with weapons as you are with music.”

“But only one of those things is useful,” she countered.

Stung, I blinked at her. “Maybe in this backwater kingdom that’s true. But culture is prized on the Continent.”

She was silent a long moment, shadows moving over her expression.

“There’s only one place I care about,” she finally said. “And it isn’t your precious Parnese.”

It wasn’t Raine, either, for all that she was destined to inherit the throne.

It was Elfhame. The land of her mother’s people, the Dark Elves. And her birthright.

Sudden sympathy pricked my conscience. Maybe Neeve did know what it was to feel desperately alone. She simply hid it perfectly.

“Would you like to help me name the cat?” I asked.

“Not particularly,” she said, striding forward.

Then again, maybe she was as cold and unfeeling as everyone thought. Still, I’d seen the pain in her eyes when she thought of Elfhame. I trotted a few steps to catch up with her.

“I don’t suppose there’s a Rainish word for three-legged?” I asked. “Tripod, trifoot…”

“Triskele,” she said.

“Oh, that’s perfect! Trisk for short.”

“Just because you’ve decided on a name doesn’t mean the creature will answer to it.”

“I know. But names have power—you know that.” And Thorne had warned us to be careful about such things within the Darkwood. “I mean, the hobnies didn’t tell us their names, but you’ve called upon them all the same.”

“Because they owe us. At least, some of them still do.” She gave me a warning look as we rounded the corner leading to the training arena.

I nodded. Best if Kian didn’t overhear. The Fiorlanders might be Raine’s allies, but the secrets of the Darkwood were ours to protect.

As Neeve went to don her leather armor, I headed for my usual hay bale. Sir Durum would put me through my lunge practice soon enough, but I couldn’t wait to try to lure the cat to come to me.

“Here, kitten,” I called softly, unwrapping the bits of chicken. “Triskele.”

I perched on the edge of the bale, ignoring the prick of straw through my trousers. Two yellow-green eyes blinked at me from the shadows. Clicking my tongue against my teeth, I held out a piece of chicken.

The cat moved forward, her body dipping up and down as she hopped on her back foot. She came close…but not close enough to take the morsel from my hand.

“Come now,” I said.

Slowly, she leaned forward, sniffing the air. I held my breath, waiting. She was almost near enough—

“Rose!” Sir Durum barked.

I jumped, and the cat skittered back into the shadows. With a sigh, I set the chicken down and wiped my fingers on the corner of the napkin.

“Stop lollygagging,” the weapons master continued. “Your enemies won’t wait politely for you to be ready.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, rising.

I cast a regretful glance over my shoulder, loosened my knife in its sheath, and went to force my body through the knife-training moves. At least I was getting stronger, though no less clumsy.

After a brief set of warmups, Sir Durum nodded for me to attack the straw-filled dummy that was my usual opponent. I widened my stance, blew a breath out through my nose, and began.

Flex the knees. Adjust my grip on the knife handle. Lunge, striking out from the shoulder. I tried to settle into the rhythm of it, even as my legs burned with effort.

“Again,” Sir Durum said as my blade went wide for the fifth time in a row. “Aim for the heart, not the belly.”

I bit my lower lip in concentration and didn’t tell him I had been aiming for the heart. In my peripheral vision, Neeve and Kian were a graceful swirl of movement as they darted forward and back, blades flashing.

I can play the harp, I reminded myself. Even if Neeve didn’t think it a useful skill. And even though I hadn’t actually touched the instrument in months.

Now that my strength was returning, however, I’d see if Master Fawkes would resume my lessons. The bard was back in residence at the castle—I’d glimpsed him a time or two in the great hall, and he’d waved to me in passing.

“Concentrate,” Sir Durum said, a resigned note in his voice as I struck the target in the arm.

“Sorry.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my sleeve and tried to rein in my restless thoughts.

After stabbing the dummy in the gut, the elbow, and then missing altogether, Sir Durum declared a rest break. He probably needed it as much as I did. I retreated to my hay bale, noting that the chicken was gone. So much for getting Trisk to eat from my hand.

I sat, gulped some water from my flask, and tried not to feel itchy from hay dust and sweat.

A soft, questioning chirp sounded beside me. Keeping my movements deliberate, I turned to see the gray cat watching me from the corner of the bale.

“Hello, Trisk,” I said.

She meowed again and took a tentative, lurching step forward.

“I don’t have any more chicken,” I told her, lifting my hand as slowly as if I were dragging it through water. “I’ll bring more tomorrow, I promise.”

She blinked at me, then leaned forward and touched her nose to my fingertips. A heartbeat later, she was gone in a surprisingly graceful leap, back into the soft gray shadows that matched her fur.

If she, with only three legs, could be so deft, then I supposed I could strive to do better with my training. A maimed finger seemed a small thing—especially since it wasn’t even on my dominant hand. I took another drink of water and stood, ready to tackle the dummy once more and show Sir Durum that I wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.