“It doesn’t matter how you tell them,” Marai said. “What matters is that they know. We need to prepare. We need to train, or we need to run.”
Aresti rolled her eyes. “Who’s to say Rayghast would be able to find us? He’s a human. Doesn’t he have better things to do as king?”
“Until you hang from a chain in his torture chamber, you can’t tell me what Rayghast will or won’t do,” Marai spat back.
Aresti pressed her lips together, cowed.
“Bounty hunters saw me exit the portal into the Badlands,” Marai continued. “They’ll put two-and-two together. They’ll alert Rayghast, who will send hundreds of soldiers into this desert. When he wants something, he’ll go to the ends of the world to find it. To crush it.”
Marai thought of Ruenen again and shoved the memory of his smiling face aside. No. I’ve made my choice.
“Why do we need to train? We can handle weapons perfectly fine,” Leif said, crossing his arms.
“You know nothing of battle, Leif,” Marai growled at him. “None of you have stepped foot into the outside world. You’ve never faced down multiple skilled opponents in the chaos of battle.”
“And you have?” Leif got to his feet, ready for the challenge.
Marai’s hand went to the hilt of Dimtoir at her belt. “I’ve spent the past eight years killing.”
Shame crawled up Marai’s throat at the horrified expressions of Thora and Kadiatu. Raife’s face became pinched and serious. But they deserved to know the person she’d become, who they’d let back into their lives.
“I was a pirate. A mercenary. You don’t want to know how many people I’ve killed,” Marai said this to Leif, who hadn’t shied away. She didn’t want to look at Thora, Kadiatu, and Raife again, only to see disgust lining their eyes. “I’ve gone up against Tacornian soldiers multiple times, and defeated them all. I’ve faced Rayghast and escaped. None of you will last long against them. You’re all too soft.”
Leif stepped towards Marai, but he didn’t get the chance to reach for the knife at his side. Marai unsheathed Dimtoir in a blur and held the blade to his throat. The others leapt to their feet.
“Marai! Put down your sword,” Thora squawked.
Leif glared at Marai, and she at him. “See? You were too slow.” She glanced at Aresti, who was creeping up behind her. “And with one move, I can gut you too.”
Aresti stopped with a huff. All eyes were on Marai, her senses tingling and alert. She felt like her old self. Strong. Hardened against the world. She swept aside the weak, pathetic girl she’d become after leaving Ruenen. She’d never become that girl again. There was no place for her in this world.
“Then we should run,” said Thora, grasping desperately at the unspooling threads of her life around her. “We could hide somewhere else, and leave before Rayghast’s men come searching.”
“Where would we go?” asked Raife, rubbing his forehead. “This was the most remote, unsuspecting place for us to settle. We’re at least protected by the canyon here, and Keshel’s shields keep most people out. We have access to fresh water, food, shelter . . . if we go on the run again, we may not be so lucky.”
Marai was tempted to tell them about Andara, that there were possibly other fae there, but they’d never leave Astye for somewhere entirely unknown. The fae were stubborn, always had been. They were staying, at least for now.
“Then we train. Tomorrow. I’ll teach you everything I know,” she told them.
Thora sighed, achingly sad. “I always knew this quiet could never last.”
“We accept your offer of training, Marai. There’s no harm in it,” said Keshel and gestured for her to lower her sword. “Teach us, but in return, you must practice your magic. You need to learn to control it.”
Marai sheathed Dimtoir, receiving a scathing look from Leif as the blade left a thin line on his skin.
While Keshel hadn’t used the words, Marai understood his meaning. She needed to practice so that she’d never again be tempted by dark magic. Keshel understood magic in a way Marai never had. He studied it, and his own magic was strong, complex.
“You need to learn your limits, but also how much farther you can delve into your well. I can help you,” he said.
Marai nodded, knowing that Keshel was the only individual alive able to help her now. She’d promised Ruenen in Cleaving Tides that she’d find the answers to her magic. While it wasn’t Andara, working with Keshel was the first step.
Marai walked to the mouth of the tunnel. “Let’s go.”
“All of us?” Kadiatu asked, voice trembling.
“Women especially must learn how to protect themselves,” Marai said as Kadiatu fiddled with the fabric of her dress. “You cannot rely on those stronger than you.”
Kadiatu nodded timidly, then reached over to grab a sword from the weapons shelf. She held it awkwardly, and looked at the blade with disdain, but she was the first one behind Marai as they exited out into the light.
Keeping to the shadows cast by the canyon cliffs, Marai faced the others.
“This is such a waste of time,” Leif hissed to Aresti.
“Marai’s right,” Raife said with a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’ve never had to fight off more than one opponent at a time. If soldiers do come for us, I want to be ready.”
Leif shot his twin an annoyed glare, but stopped complaining.
Marai pointed to Raife, Leif, and Aresti. “You three are the closest we have to warriors. I want you to attack me.”
Leif smirked. “Gladly.”
Thora, Keshel and Kadiatu stepped closer against the cliff wall. Raife dropped his quiver of arrows and his bow, and grasped the curved, elegant fae knife at his side. Raife was more comfortable with a bow in his hand, but he held the knife assuredly.
“Don’t hold back,” Marai warned them. “Because I won’t.”
Aresti and Leif attacked first. Leif, grinning arrogantly, swung his sword lazily at Marai. She dodged, and while his back was turned, unsheathed Dimtoir. She stopped before slicing down his spine.
Leif froze.
