Belle had overdone it yesterday. That was obvious.
Though she’d slept okay, reassured both by Clarix’s success at digging a few mice from their burrows last night and the warm, Dark magic wrapping around her in her tree-stump cell, she awoke to find all that buzzing, nervous energy had finally left her, and she felt utterly deflated without it. The very thought of heading out into camp, doing all the smiling and listening and talking she had yesterday made her want to stay hidden in her cell forever. She had burned through all her fuel, it seemed.
So she did what she usually did when she needed to refuel.
She (and her silent shadow of a guard) tracked Jac down in the training grounds—it seemed to be her favorite part of camp—and, without a word, fell onto her best friend. Jac stood talking to her own guard and didn’t even pause in whatever she was saying, probably discussing the joys of punching people or something, as she wrapped a rock-steady arm around the boneless Belle to hold her up. Belle snuggled into Jac’s shoulder and zoned out for who knew how long.
Even the loud magic around them was too much for Belle right now, with people sparring and talking and running drills. So Belle rested in the warm, unwavering golden light that was Jac’s magic. She listened to the hum of Jac’s voice through her chest, even though she took in none of the words. She watched the gestures Jac made with her free hand as she talked. She breathed in the familiar smell of Jac’s skin.
This was the one thing, the only thing the two women had been able to count on over the last five years in the castle. One was always there to hold the other up. And, sometimes, it was the only way either of them could stand.
Slowly, Jac refueled her. The moon couldn’t shine without the light from sun, after all.
Belle took a long, deep breath and straightened. She squeezed Jac with a hug before finally pulling away.
It was only now that Jac smiled at her and said, “Morning, moonshine.”
“Morning, sunshine,” Belle gave her usual reply.
“Belle, have you met Ori?” Jac gestured to the guard next to her, a young, burly guy with a spatter of acne across his face.
“Odelia’s son.” She smiled, and didn’t even have to force it.
“That’s me.” He returned her smile.
“She was bragging on you, yesterday. Real proud of your progress with combat magic.”
Ori’s cheeks colored slightly. “Ah, well. She’s sweet like that. Standing next to Miss Jac, you couldn’t even name me Practitioner.”
Jac laughed a little too loud, showing all her teeth and clapped Ori on his shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance. “I’ve seen your skill, and she’s right to brag on you.” Then she added, a little darker, “Don’t ever call me Miss Jac again.”
Rubbing his shoulder and blushing even more, he said, “Right. Thanks.”
After a brief awkward moment, Jac’s conversation with Ori resumed—he was asking for her advice on conditioning exercises for both his body and his magic. Though Belle felt finally awake and part of the world once again, she wasn’t ready to leave Jac’s magic just yet, so she hovered by Jac’s shoulder even as she watched the training going on.
Mostly it was non-magical—at least, not what most would consider magical. Belle, of course, saw that there was magic in every action, every emotion, every intention … well, on her good days she did. But most people didn’t consider simply swinging a sword magic. Swinging a sword and, like, shooting electricity from it, sure. But even though the majority of people in this camp weren’t practitioners, the percentage did seem higher than anywhere else Belle had been outside of her circus. She’d wondered yesterday as she had wandered around camp whether there was some sort of basic magical practice offered to everyone in camp—or perhaps those Daivad had freed wanted to do whatever they could to protect themselves, to maintain their freedom, now that they had the chance. But she’d been so scrambled she hadn’t thought to ask Odelia.
It seemed she didn’t have to—the answer revealed itself just a few minutes later when Daivad entered the training grounds. Immediately, a number of those who had been milling around the edges of the grounds hurried forward. It was an odd assortment—the youngest couldn’t be more than ten years old, and the oldest looked to be in their forties. They fell into a formation, backs erect and eyes forward, and Daivad came to a stop before them.
Daivad regarded them, his bright eyes sliding from one person to the next. After a moment, he said, “Where’s Tash?”
Beside Jac, Ori stiffened.
It didn’t slip by Daivad—his eyes darted over to Ori for a second, before snagging on Belle. She smiled and waved at him. He did not smile nor wave back.
“That’s third time this moon, Ori.”
Ori dipped his head in deference immediately. “Yes, sir. I know where she is—it won’t take me five minutes to fetch her—”
“No.” Daivad gave a sharp gesture with one hand and the formation before him began to shift. “Training’s a privilege. If Tash can’t show up on time—”
“Here, sir!”
A kid with shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, presumably Tash, strolled onto the training grounds, elbows swinging and mouth full of food. She started to fall into the formation, but everyone had already paired off. Tash swallowed her food, held her chin high, and looked up at Daivad, who had crossed his oversized arms across his oversized chest and stared right back at her. Belle had to smile—she could see the wobble in Tash’s magic, see how it wanted to fold in on itself, to make her presence an absence. But Tash still held the gaze of the man literally twice her height.
“I’ll pair with Ori,” Tash said, full of faux confidence, fists on her hips and elbows out.
“Ori’s working.”
Tash twisted at the waist, elbows spinning around her, to look at Ori, who was aggressively massaging his forehead with his knuckles. She said, “He’s right there.”
“He’s working.”
Belle perked up. And stuck her hand in the air.
Jac mumbled, “Here we go.”
Daivad very clearly looked at Belle. And very clearly ignored her. He unwound his arms and said, “Name the rules, Tash.”
The wobble in her magic grew more pronounced. “I’m late, I pair with you.”
Tash struggled to keep her frame, even as Daivad began to move around the pairs, making sure he approved of the matchups. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her hairline.
Belle bounced on her toes and waved her hand around.
“I think the lady with all the hair is volunteer—,” Tash started.
“No, she’s not,” Daivad said without looking up.
“Yes, I am!”
“First flow,” Daivad called, trying to drown her out. “Go.”
As one, the group began to move. Each pair matched each other’s movements so they seemed to be completing some slow, steady dance around a central point between them. The first flow seemed to focus on stretching the legs and steadying footwork—lots of long, fluid lunges followed by quick, flitting steps, meant to familiarize the body with how its own weight shifted. Daivad wound between the pairs, occasionally shoving someone to see if they could maintain their balance. Tash, the only one attempting this alone, was struggling, and when Daivad made his way back around to her and stuck a bare foot in her path, she took a dive into the dirt face-first.
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Jac asked Ori, “He teaches combat magic himself?”
“Usually he only leads the beginners’ lessons himself about once a week, when he has the time,” Ori said in a low voice, aware Daivad could probably hear them. “But we have lessons every day. Not just combat magic, either. Kadie teaches healing magic and apothecary. Bennen teaches nature magic. And so on.”
“What does Tobei teach?” Jac asked, smirking.
Ori chuckled. “I don’t know. Hair Care and Debauchery?”
“That name sounds right.”
“He’ll come in to instruct the advanced combat classes when Daivad has a threat or a bribe to leverage against him.”
Watching the flow carefully once was all Belle needed. Silently, she slipped around the group while Daivad’s back was turned, at least bullying a grown man this time, and slid right into the flow with Tash. Belle could see the uncertainty in Tash’s magic, that self-conscious wobble that was taking her out of her body and into her head. Belle let her own magic reach over to Tash’s as they moved together, letting her know she wasn’t alone. At first, Tash’s magic recoiled from hers and she looked around with alarmed eyes for Daivad. But Belle just smiled at her and continued the flow, and eventually the girl eased back into it.
And Belle slipped easily under Daivad’s next attempted shove, and stepped easily over his next attempted trip.
“Gonna have to try harder than—”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the flow, growling. So she growled back. He gave her a bewildered look.
“I was helping.”
“You were distracting.” Daivad gestured to the group, who now stood staring at them.
“No one was distracted ‘til you grabbed me.”
Belle’s guard, a brown-haired boy whose name she thought was Sen appeared at her side. “I’ll remove her, sir.”
“Ay, come on, Dai.”
A ripple of shock worked through the collective magic of the training grounds. People glanced around at each other with wide eyes. Daivad’s jaw clenched, his face flushed.
“—Vad,” Belle added quickly, then continued talking, hoping to distract from her slip up. “This way Tash has a partner and you can dedicate full focus to bullying your students. Including me! And I’ll keep my lips together. Promise.”
“I don’t have time to teach you the flows,” he growled.
“Do my feet look unsure?”
“She was doing it better than me,” Tash offered.
Daivad shot her a look and she ducked her head. When he looked back at Belle, she was giving him her best pleading smile.
“No.”
But Belle didn’t miss the slight hesitation—she grabbed onto it. “Do the first flow with me. Set at your pace. If I stumble even once, I’ll park ass and seal lips.”
“Sweet shit,” he growled.
Belle lifted a palm. “Swear to the Dark Mother.”
Daivad considered her with narrowed eyes for several seconds. She thought she’d won until he said, “These lessons are about more than flows. Those are just warm-ups. There’s also conditioning, drills … sparring. And no quitting halfway through.”
Belle nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”
“Sixty seconds,” he said. “Last sixty seconds in the ring with me, and you can join the class for today.”
Heat bloomed over Belle’s face. Sparring with him would be far different than matching his flow. It would be different even than running from him across the rooftops of Urden. Facing an opponent down, standing her ground, had never been Belle’s strong suit. Avoidance, negotiation, distraction, de-escalation were all Belle knew how to do in the face of conflict. But to fight? To endure? That was all Jac.
She glanced over at her friend, whose golden eyes, now hard and cool like the metal itself, were trained on Daivad, her hand gripping the handle of her hammer over one shoulder. Ready to break Daivad’s everything, if she needed to. Belle smiled and took a steadying breath. She’d craved Jac’s strength, her fearlessness, ever since the day she’d met her. But she’d never find it for herself if she stayed hiding behind her.
Daivad wouldn’t hurt her. She knew it, somehow. She was safe here. So now was the time to challenge herself.
“Yes, sir.”
The class circled up in the middle of the training grounds with Belle and Daivad at its center. Belle did her best to let her magic take up space, resisting the urge to hide. Before her, Daivad’s magic, though still and controlled as ever, gave off a deep, low hum that Belle could feel beneath her ribs. Inside her skull. She focused on it. Let it light her up.
She bounced on her toes.
“Name the rules, Tash,” Daivad instructed.
“Sixty seconds in the ring, or a killing blow to win,” Tash recited. “Both feet leave the ring, you lose. Receive a killing blow, you lose.”
“And what constitutes a killing blow?” he prodded.
Tash strode out and stopped right in front of Belle. “A clean strike to the neck.” In a flash, the outer edge of Tash’s little hand was at Belle’s neck. “A clean kick to the head.” She twirled and the worn hide shoe of her left foot stopped two inches from Belle’s temple. “Or a clean strike to the spine.” Another spin, this time around Belle, and then she felt Tash’s elbow on her spine.
It was true, with a decent combat magic practice, any of those blows could kill, even coming from a child Tash’s size. There were many more of course—any number of strikes could rupture the internal organs. But this was a beginner’s class, after all.
Daivad nodded and Tash returned to her place within the circle where, as one, the class each stuck out a foot and drew a line before them in the dirt, connecting to make a circle. Then, they stepped a few paces back and sat. Daivad rolled his massive shoulders, turned his neck to either side, and flexed his hands, but Belle tried to keep her focus on that hum.
She had a plan. Somewhat of a plan, anyway. Whether or not it was a good plan, she was about to find out.
“Countdown,” Daivad said.
“Shit,” Belle whispered.
The class each slapped a hand on the ground. “Three!”
As she bounced, she tried to shake the panic out through her hands.
Slap. “Two!”
Breathe. Listen to your magic.
Slap. “One!”
Just like in that alley in Urden, Daivad lunged. And just like in the alley, Belle slipped under his arm—but she was sure he’d be expecting that, so instead of whirling around behind him as she had before, she stepped to the side and, on instinct, danced away from him. It went on like that for several seconds—Daivad making a move, Belle melting through him. The class around them counted out the seconds with each slap to the ground.
But Belle knew there was a limit to how long this would work. In a space this small against an opponent that big, that skilled, she couldn’t dodge forever. With each move she made, he was getting better, faster at predicting her movements. His fingertips began to brush her skin.
“Is that all you can do?” he growled. “Run?”
She balked for only a fraction of a second, pulled from her rhythm by even the idea of trying something new, but it was enough. His hand closed over her forearm and yanked her toward him. Instead of fighting the pull of his magic, she followed it, added her own to it, and drove it straight into his chest. It didn’t knock him off his feet like she’d hoped, the magic of his stance had him too well rooted to the ground for that. But it did shift his center of gravity, the flow of his magic through him, just enough to create a weak spot under his arm. She struck it with her magic and his hand loosened enough for her to slide out of his grasp once again.
Belle had to get more creative after that. He was quickly closing the holes in his defenses, or else anticipating which she would try to use—so Belle had to create new ones. She yanked on his magic, hard enough to make him stumble, surprise on his face, and took the opportunity to whirl around behind him and strike at the stream of magic to his left leg—the same way she’d immobilized Lenna yesterday. But he was ready for her and shifted just enough that her strike became just a useless tap on his hip. He tried to spin to face her, but she simply followed his magic, staying just inches behind him no matter how quickly he turned. She corrected her strike, and felt his magic give, along with his leg.
On his way down, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her with him and pinning her arm under his side. They both paused to catch their breath.
“Does this name it a draw?” Belle asked his back.
“No,” came Daivad’s growl. Why did he sound smug?
Suddenly, he swung his legs around. Both of them. She’d been sure she’d severed his magic—How?
Now perpendicular to her, with her left arm still in his grasp, he hooked his right arm under her knees and rolled forward, hauling her up onto his shoulders. She yelped as he stood.
“So this is what the world looks like to you,” she said, head spinning at the sudden height. “Everyone’s so small.”
And he threw her.
Luckily, Tash broke her fall. Sprawled there on the ground, Belle and Tash looked at each other for a moment. Then they burst out laughing. Daivad allowed them a few moments of this while he brushed dirt off himself.
“No more distractions,” he said. “Everyone, back in position. Nyxabella, move aside.”
But no one moved. No one except Tash, who just kept cackling. Belle sat up and glanced around at the class, who just shot unsure glances at each other.
“What?” Daivad snapped.
In answer, Tash managed to get out, in between bubbles of laughter, “Sixty-two seconds.”