PRESENT

Killian Reydon struts towards us. He has an air about him like he’s completely unencumbered by doubt. I can tell he believes he’s one of the best, in looks and skill, and has no qualms about showing it off. The annoying part is that he is justified in feeling that way.

His shirt is pulled tight against his muscular chest and arms. His pants ride low on his hips and are tucked haphazardly into his black boots.

He has the same trimmed beard as his father and older brother. His short-cropped hair is so dark it gleams with a bluish haze in the light. I can’t see his eyes from this distance but I know they are the aquamarine the Reydon family is known for. That piercing bright blue has haunted a number of my dreams to date.

The closer he gets, the more I bristle. I doubt he would remember the one and only time we ever saw each other outside the Insight training activity.

I’ve never had an opportunity to formally met him but I already hate him because I hate his father and as the Old World saying goes, the sins of the father are the sins of the son.

Ander knows how I feel about the Killian by virtue of how much I hate the entire Reydon family for their part in taking my parents from me. Questions race through my head. Why would he bring one of the Might’s sons here? How can he even trust him not to reveal our base?

Killian stops at the edge of the circle and looks me over. I can feel him sizing me up, knowing he will underestimate me just like everyone else does.

My lip curls up in a snarl, making my feelings quite clear. Killian ignores the obvious challenge and looks over my head at Ander. He shakes with head, clucking his tongue. “There’s no way she can pass as a Might Officer, even a minor one.”

I don’t look over my shoulder at Ander as I wait for him to defend me. After what seems like a moment too long, he responds. “Kil, this is Zorione Zahino, a former liaison between Insight and Fate.”

Killian’s eyes widen a fraction at my name but otherwise, his face remains impassive.

“Don’t you mean Nergüi?” His voice is nonchalant but I bet he knows he is twisting a knife into a deep wound. Maybe he dislikes me as much as I do him.

I push my chin up and look down my nose to meet his gaze. “Yes, Nergüi. The Zahino family is gone.”

He taps his chin and moves in closer. I catch a whiff of his scent, dark and tangy, like steel and sweat. He moves beyond my peripheral vision but I don’t turn my head to keep an eye on him; I don’t want to seem interested even if I am.

I can sense Ander’s discomfort as I hear his feet shift back and forth on the mat. “Zo is more than qualified for the position as I’m sure you know, considering her,” he pauses for a moment to search for the right word, “history. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have matters to attend to.”

Ander comes around to stand in front of me and rests his hand gently on my shoulder. In a low voice, he says, “Don’t let him get to you. He wants to see if you can control your rage.”

“What rage?”

His eyes meet mine and all I see is sadness there. I look away; I don’t want his pity.

Ander squeezes my shoulder before his hand drops to his side. “Don’t kill each other, yea? You’re both needed here.” With that, he turns on his heel and exits out the way I came in, leaving me alone with a fucking member of the Reydon family.

I breathe in deeply, attempting to calm my fraying nerves. It’s been a hell of a week, to say the least. I know Killian is prowling around behind me, but I will not respond.

I sit down on the floor in the center of the practice ring and examine the blade Ander gave me. The hilt is simple save for a single rose on the metal guard that wraps around my hand. It must be the insignia for Officer Dorne’s family. I suppose this sword and I are at the beginning of a long and dangerous journey together.

“It is unwise to leave your back exposed to your enemy.”

I twist around, finding him off to one side at the edge of the ring, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you my enemy?”

He scoffs and walks over to where I am sitting, making me crane my neck up to meet his gaze. “Isn’t everyone, Nergüi?”

I clench my jaw to keep from responding, which he seems to find amusing. But his smile is hardly warm - it’s more like an animal bearing its teeth.

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“As I recall, you were not the last Zahino. The Fate’s head protectorate is named Beñat Zahino, is he not?”

I shrug and look back at the weapon in my lap. “He turned his back on his family.”

“His family of traitors, you mean?” Killian asks as he squats down, keeping a safe distance so that I can’t easily reach out and strike him. He’s on the balls on his feet so he can move quickly if I try anything.

That is probably wise for him since I don’t feel like I am in control of the situation or myself. “Why are you here?” I turn in place so I am facing him, hoping my hard gaze will make him feel unsteady.

He searches my face for something and I can’t help but think he finds it as his own relaxes back into its original impassive expression.

“Same as you, I suppose. Ander certainly has a way of convincing people.” He looks towards the doors, smiling wistfully.

I wonder what sort of relationship he has with Ander. He doesn’t seem like Ander’s type. But it’s none of my business and I am not about to ask him, so I decide to be honest with him in the hopes that maybe we can find a middle ground, if only where Ander is concerned.

“I didn't join because of him. Though I admit he is why I stayed.” I stand up and stretch. I didn’t realize how tense my muscles were as they protest. I roll my head around and move my shoulders in slow circles. We are here to train after all.

Killian gets up too but makes no move to prep for sparring. Maybe he doesn’t think I will pose any challenge. “He risked a lot trying to save you. I told him it wasn’t worth it,” Killian says nonchalantly as if he’s not talking about my near-death experience.

I stop mid head roll, and glare at him. “I suppose I am lucky he doesn’t heed your counsel then.”

“Oh, he does, just not where you are concerned. What are you to him?”

It seems my caution at delving into our relationships with Ander is not shared by Killian.

“We are friends. Now,” I ignite the blade and slash it a few times in front of me, “can we get to why we’re here?”

Killian joins me in the center of the circle. He seems unconcerned with my blade. I know it is set to training mode but it can still leave a nasty burn.

“I will not be using a blade for the moment. For now, we are going to see how close you can come to striking me.”

I snort my derision. “You think I won’t land a single blow?”

“No, I know you won’t.” My anger gets the better of me and a charge forward only to fly past him. I didn’t even see him move. I try again, with a bit more caution, and end up on my back, the air knocked from my lungs.

How is he moving so quickly?

“You have no plan. No reason or method. You’ll never hit me like that.” His taunts penetrate my haze of annoyance and I force myself to calm down again. I don’t want to embarrass myself any more than I already have.

I get to my feet and roll the hilt in my hands. The pommel is slick with sweat but I don’t want to wipe it away - that seems like admitting weakness. I grit my teeth and get into a fighter’s stance.

“You look like you’re boxing. Dueling is elegance.” Killian comes around behind me and grips my hips, twisting them into a straight line, perpendicular to my shoulders. My left foot slides back, in line with my right.

“You advance with your feet in sync, maintaining the line.” He grabs my shoulders next and presses them back into the same line as my feet. “Memorize this position. Everything points towards your opponent.”

“What if you come at me from the side?”

His foot comes out and hits my right leg, hooking around it and pulling it to the right. I am forced to turn to the right as I struggle to maintain the form he has put me in. “Like that. Use your back foot to pivot as you maintain your position.”

“Now try advancing,” he commands and I think I surprise us both by listening.

After what feels like more than a few hours, my shirt is soaked with sweat and my back is screaming in protest. I thought all of my years of combat and weapons training would have provided me with better core support but it seems dueling uses a whole other set of muscles.

Killian has barely moved this whole time, leaning against a post on the far end of the training circle and barking orders at me.

I have practiced advancing, retreating, and pivoting in an endless loop, all while holding the unignited blade in front of me. My arm feels like dead weight. I am not even sure how I am holding it out in front of me anymore. Sheer willpower, I suppose.

I let the blade drop to my side and break the stance, turning to face my would-be tutor.

“Can I have a minute?”

“No.”

The anger, that I had been doing an excellent job of suppressing, bubbles up in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure you heard my logical and not in the least ridiculous request to have a minute to rest.”

“I did.” Killian pushes off from the post and walks towards me until we are almost touching. “I said no.”

He is close enough for me to smell him again - that same steel and sweat mix that is so familiar but I can’t quite place why.

I drop the hilt. It hits the floor with a loud clang that echoes in the otherwise silent room.

“I am not your slave.” I look up at him, willing myself to seem bigger so that I won’t feel like he towering over me.

He ducks his head, stooping so that we are at eye level. “You are as far as I am concerned. I have less time than is needed to make you a convincing Officer. Not to mention prepare you for the interrogation you’ll face from seemingly coming back from the dead nor the promotion that will follow should you not break.”

“Promotion?” I don’t break eye contact but it’s impossible to hide my confusion. Ander hadn’t gone into the plan with this much detail yet.

He straightens. “Yes. It’s the best way for me to keep an eye on you. I need you at a rank that makes sense for me to associate with. Third-class silver won’t do.”

I wonder if he knows how arrogant he sounds.

He steps back and points to the blade. “Now, pick it up and start again.”