4
Ark leant against the courtyard wall in a patch of sunlight, watching his mate and princess train with a deadly rebel. He still wasn't used to the lightness of regular clothes, the heft and drag of his uniform familiar and comforting, but he couldn't deny the feeling of sun on his bare arms felt good.
"Focus," Zamanya grunted at Maia, the warrior moving like a storm with every strike and hit. Light flashed on the leather armour she wore, glistening on the sweat along Maia's arms and neck. The second he thought she was pushing Maia too hard, too far, Ark would step in, but he was curious to see what his mate was capable of. Not just with her magic, but with her body.
"Iamfocused," Maia bit out. Her temper would be her downfall, not her skill level. She'd been in a rough mood since this morning, and Ark had to admit he was every bit as unsettled by the news of a whole village disappearing overnight. Especially when the scant few people who'd fled it had arrived in the city with tales of monsters and creatures. Not beastkind but something different—with black scales and fangs and razor horns.
At least it wasn't the golden fae who'd dealt his mate a wound. The slice on her ribs still wasn't healing, and it worried Ark more every day.
"You're leaning too far to the left," Ark commented as Maia lunged—unsuccessfully.
Zamanya landed a hit on Maia's shoulder, but softened the impact.
"Thank you," Maia bit out without turning, pale strands of hair stuck to her panting face. "Great commentary."
"If I wanted an assistant, I'd have recruited one," Zamanya added, throwing an arch look in his direction.
Ark held up his hands, saying nothing else.
"But he's right," Zamanya begrudgingly admitted, flicking long black braids over her shoulder. "You are leaning to your left."
"I'll lean toyourleft in a minute," Maia muttered irately.
Ark felt for the bond in his chest, and her tangle of frustration and resentment made him wince. He wanted to tell Zamanya to back off, but he'd only make it worse by suggesting Maia couldn't take any more.
"Again," Zamanya commanded, resuming her ready stance and watching Maia's every move. Who had trained her to fight like this? Had she been part of the Vassalian army before she joined the Sapphire Knight's rebels? Or had she trained with the city guard? Chasm, she could have been part of the palace guard. Ark didn't recognise her, and he made a point to memorise every face he met, but if their schedules had never overlapped, it was possible. She certainly moved like someone who'd trained under his uncle.
Maia didn't move with the same control and efficiency, but she'd clearly trained in a number of disciplines for years. Ark's admiration grew the longer he watched her, even if her temper threatened to ruin all her ability. He made mental notes of things to work on with her, wanting his mate as deadly as physically possible. The sheer amount of enemies she had...
Protectiveness encouraged him to grab Zamanya and throw the woman away from his mate, but Ark ground his teeth and endured it without moving from the wall. Still, the mate bond was so new and so powerful; he couldn't quite contain his low growl.
"You're getting sloppy," Zamanya said, easily knocking aside Maia's hand. "Stop."
"Youstop," Maia growled, clearly reaching the end of her tether.
Sweat shone on her face and frustration was clear in her bared teeth and the jittery energy Ark sensed down their bond. It wasn't the only thing he felt—magic shot through her like a burning star, and Ark moved before he could consider it too thoroughly.
Zamanya had frozen in the act of lowering her hand, her feet braced apart and mouth open on a half-spoken word. She was a statue, caught in time. Trapped by Maia's snaresong power.
"I..." Maia choked out, her eyes growing wider with every second. She took an unsteady step back.
Ark reached her just as she hyperventilated, choking on a sound halfway between a sob and a hysterical laugh. Her whole body was trembling when he pulled her against him. Ark’s heart beat faster, sharper. She hadn't meant to use her power, that much was clear.
"Take a breath, Maia," he said calmly, stroking up and down her back and giving stern glares over her shoulder to the people who'd paused their own training to gawp. At his threatening glare, they immediately went back to work. He gave Zamanya a fleeting look, but the woman was still frozen.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know," he assured her, angling his body to shield her from the worst of the stares. "You can undo it, just take a breath."
Maia dragged in a shaky breath, as tense as a bow in his arms and trembling all over. He knew she was angry at herself as well as freaked out, and neither emotion was helping her.
"Good," he murmured. "Eyes on me, my highness."
Her mouth flickered with a hint of a smile at the name, and she scraped another gasp down her throat.
"It was an accident," he said, in case she needed to hear it. "We're all wound tight these days, and our magic is on edge every minute of the day. You made a mistake, but you can correct it."
Maia fisted her hands in his shirt, twisting the soft material as she dragged down another breath, each inhale like an act of war.