Jenny sat there, next to him, fuming silently. It was the smoulder of a piece of metal that had cooled enough that it was no longer red-hot, but definitely still hot enough to scar you if you tried to touch it.

She’d been this way ever since they sat down, and Theo had thought that giving her time to think would help.

From the way she tried to stare holes into the sand, evidently not.

Theo looked up at Natalie and Damian sparring for a moment, before sighing.

“What’s bothering you?” He asked.

She glanced his way, then pointedly turned away, hands gripped tight around her elbows.

There was a bittersweetness to her eyes, of regret and hope mixed imperfectly in swirls. “I was hoping this would be a fun way for us to spend more time together, and for you to get to know the other parts of my life.” Her face fell. “I didn’t expect you to almost kill yourself over and over.”

Theo flinched from the bite in those words.

He retorted without thinking, the way someone in a bar strikes back when punched. “Says you. You’re just as reckless as me. Who uses backfires as a way to move around, again?”

Jenny snorted. “It’s not the same.”

“Well, enlighten me as to how they’re different.” Theo muttered. Jenny’s head whipped around, as she turned back to face him.

She poked a finger into his chest. “Using backfires doesn’t make me bleed. It doesn’t actually hurt me.” She paused, before continuing in a whisper. “They don’t make you worried for my safety.”

Theo paused, unsure how to respond to that.

“It’s hard for me to see you get hurt over, and over.” Jenny swallowed, voice hoarser than it was a moment ago, chest starting to shudder and heave. Her voice wavered. “It’s even harder, when it reminds me of how helpless I felt, paralysed, as I watched you fight that spy.”

Theo opened his mouth, and closed it again shortly after. There was only one thing he could say in response, but even so it took him some time to find it.

“I’m sorry.”

Theo wasn’t sure if she heard him as she spoke, but he had said it for himself as much as for her sake.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“And I know that danger is a part of what we do, and that it’s better for you to figure this stuff out here than when you’re in actual harm’s way, but that doesn’t make it any easier to sit here and watch you get beaten up.”

Jenny continued, blinking tears out of the corners of her eyes. “I just want you to be safe.”

Theo didn’t respond in words, merely pulling her into a hug.

The emotions they had repressed at the door returned to finish the job, and he felt his tears falling down to mix with hers.

Someone coughed.

Suddenly mindful that their surroundings were not private and instead just a slightly out of the way bench, Theo did a quick scan to see who was paying attention.

Some were razor-focused on the match (still going between Natalie and Damian), but most were either looking directly at them, or pointedly looking in any other direction. He glowered at those who were looking brazenly, then turned his attention back to what mattered.

“I’m sorry.” He wiped the tears from her face with his thumb, tracing the contours of her face as he did so. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“I’m sorry.” Jenny responded, burying her head into his chest. “Could you stop fighting if I asked you to?”

Theo sighed.

“We both know that’s not possible.” He reluctantly said, drawing out the words as long as he could, as if that would delay him seeing her reaction.

Jenny nodded against his chest. “I know. But I had to ask.”

“I’ll hear you out at least.” Theo compromised. “That sound okay?”

She kissed his cheek. “Deal.”

---

Theo found the tip of a wooden sword under his chin again.

“You’re improving.” Damian withdrew the weapon, smoothly returning it to his side. Even though it had no scabbard, his hands went through the motions, treating this exercise as if he was using a real weapon.

Theo was starting to understand that Damian wasn’t inherently cold or rude; just that he was entirely focused on fighting, and would respect you if you could beat him, or (like in Theo’s case) be tenacious and stand back up to try again.

Theo nodded, letting Rest wash over him as he pulsed it. A side benefit of all this fighting was an improving control over his magic.

And Damian was right – he was noticeably improving as time went on. It had only been a few hours, but it had probably taught him more about how to fight than all the Combat classes and Etol skirmishes.

He replayed the last moments of the fight in his head, using Tome of Memories to recall in exacting detail just how Damian had closed the distance, batted his hands aside, and went for the throat.

He also knew that the benefits he could glean right now from more skill-based sparring was diminishing, if not outright disappearing like rainwater absorbed by greedy dirt.

Theo stopped himself before he told Damian to move onto the next part of the spar. He looked over at Jenny, who gave a conflicted thumbs up, teeth stretched in an artificial smile. In a different light, it could have been a grimace.

“I concede the skill spar, and I also concede the survival spar.” Theo braced internally for Damian to comment on the situation, but instead he nodded thoughtfully.

“Good idea. You need to rest.” For some odd reason, the idea of rest rankled Theo. He squashed that feeling, trying to intuit if he was any closer to that almost-revelation.

While something told him he was on the right track, nothing they had tried so far was enough.

His eyes glanced back over to Jenny.

Theo sighed as quietly as he could, and made his way back to the seat next to Jenny.

He was overdue for a well-deserved break. It felt like anything but.