"No."
I give him my best stubborn look. "I need to do this."
"You do not need to fight. I will protect you."
"Not good enough. What if you get disabled? Or we get separated?" I poke his chest with my finger. "Teach me how to fight, Dax. I won't give up until you agree to do it. I'll pester and harass and annoy you until—"
"All right." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "What you need to learn is basic self-defense techniques. Once you've mastered that, perhaps we can move on to more advanced maneuvers."
"Great. Let's get started now."
"Not out here. We don't want our watchers to witness everything I teach you."
"Where, then?"
He whirls away and waves for me to follow.
I trot after him only because I need his help to learn how to protect myself. I do not follow because he silently ordered me to do it with his hand-waving. Whether he realizes that or not, I don't care. If he turns all snarly and rude again, he'll get a piece of my mind.
We go inside the house, though calling it a "house" doesn't really describe this enormous structure, and he hurries down the hall. I have to jog to keep up with him. We finally veer into a room at the opposite end of the hall from where the dining room lies. It's a large space with high ceilings and tall windows, though big shrubs block most of the view. The sun shines into the space just enough that it doesn't feel like we're trapped in a box.
I see paintings high up on the walls, each one a depiction of a person—men and women, young and old. Down at eye level, a collection of skinny sword-like implements hangs from hooks on the wall. The floor is wood, but in one section it features a padded mat.
"What is this room?" I ask.
"It's where generations of Stainthorpes learned to fence."
"Fencing is when you play with skinny little pseudo-swords."
He compresses his lips, and I'm sure he wants to growl at me. But he doesn't. "Fencing is a sport. It requires dexterity, control, and skill."
"Don't see how fencing is going to protect me. Besides, it'll take too long for me to learn that."
"I have no intention of teaching you to fence today." He rolls up his sleeves. "I'm going to instruct you in basic self-defense techniques. Just as I told you a few minutes ago."
"Yeah, I remember. I have a brain, you know."
He grunts. "Then act like it."
We're back to Dax the jerk. Maybe he's just scared, which I can understand, but that's no excuse.
I rub my palms together. "I'm ready. Come on, teach me."
Chapter Nineteen
Dax
Perhaps I shouldn't bother teaching Allison how to protect herself. I can protect her, and the creatures outside are far stronger than any human being in this world. I'm not at all sure any sort of self-defense technique will be enough. But it's all I can offer her.
I saunter up to Allison, halting an arm's length away. "First, you need to learn a few basic principles."
"Go on. I'm ready."
"Avoid the chest. It won't be effective without a weapon. Also avoid the knees. That requires a particular technique, so don't risk it. You're better off sticking to the most vulnerable areas—eyes, nose, throat, and groin."
"Got it."
"When you're in a threatening situation, don't hold back. Make plenty of noise too. Not only will that potentially confuse your attacker, but it will also attract attention that might scare them away." I don't think she fully understands how difficult it will be to ward off an attack, which means I need to make it painfully obvious. "Hit me."