He grinned, then clearly thinking he’d settled the matter, peeled his hand off my arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. I punched him in the jaw.

His head whipped to the side, but his body remained planted over mine. My knuckles sang, but all I cared about was the red mark they’d left on his face. He blinked, and then he smiled. A real smile, not the stupid one-sided smirk or the grin that made me want to gut him.

“You’re better than I gave you credit for,” he said.

I’d just about regained my breath enough to talk. “You’re not.”

He laughed, the sound strangely rich and menacing at the same time, and rose, offering me a hand. I let him lift me to my feet, my back protesting.

“You need to work on your counterstrikes,” he said. “You fight like a poorly trained Jin.”

“You fight like a brick wall,” I growled back, fully aware that didn’t make much sense. But it was the only way I could describe his curt, solid movements and sturdy stance.

He laughed again, and I simmered, hating that he was right. The Jin fighting style used an opponent’s weight and movements against them, making them skilled dodgers, like me. But they also knew how to end a fight.

I sought the connection with Res, knowing it would calm me. It flooded into my veins in a quiet rush, stronger than it had been yesterday from this far away.

“Next time,” I said, “I’m bringing my bow, and we’re doing this with weapons.”

Ericen grinned. “Deal. In the meantime, let me show you a few moves.”

By the time I returned to my room, I was so exhausted and sore, I nearly missed Kiva at the dining table. She’d fallen asleep there, her head resting on her forearms. Someone had tucked a blanket over her shoulders.

Twenty-Two

Kiva and I trained together and ate breakfast, and then I ordered the carriage to take me to Caylus’s. I took a detour through the kitchens, where Tarel and Lyren already had a bundle of chicken waiting, along with a parcel that smelled of sugar and orange.

When I unwrapped it, I found a batch of freshly baked orange cakes dusted in powdered sugar.

“The prince said you liked those,” Lyren said. “I had an old recipe from a Rhodairen friend.”

I smiled. “You have a Rhodairen friend?”

Tarel snorted at the word friend, and Lyren ran a hair through his silver-specked hair with a laugh. “There was a time our people traded in more than blood and steel, you know.”

I knew, and I hoped one day we would again.

* * *

Caylus and I sat shoulder to shoulder before Res, taking turns tossing him pieces of chicken. Caylus had made bergamot tea, and we’d devoured the entire parcel of orange cakes in a matter of minutes.