Page 47 of The Verdant Cage
Meryl rubs Sal’s back. “It’s a reasonable question, isn’t it?” She looks to Gryphon for support, but his eyes are still narrowed on Sal. “You taught us that our pivot points change based on the size of the opponent, after all.”
Gryphon runs his hand back and forth across his scalp. He’s agitated. Have I already spent the very limited goodwill between us?
“Come here,” he directs me.
What does he plan to do? My stomach twists as I step into the circle. I’m too nervous to look at the others. Is this some kind of hazing, like the trust fall but worse? I stand in front of Gryphon. His breaths are quick and tight, but his hands are loose at his sides. I stare at them because I’m afraid to look at his face. They’re strong hands, ribboned with scars; his nails are short and clean. The day is still overcast but surprisingly warm, and his shirt is open at the collar. My gaze travels across his bare neck, over his lips, up to his strong nose, and finally, lands on his onyx eyes.
Then I’m on my back.
Stunned, I gasp for air. An upside-down Sal is smiling at me, her cheeks round with merriment.
Next to her, Eero gives me an encouraging nod. “Been there,” he says. “You’re gonna want to get up.”
I could sooner grow claws and burrow into the earth.
“First lesson for you,” Gryphon says, standing over me, blocking the light, “is to always watch your opponent’s eyes, no matter their size or shape. The eyes always tell.”
“Ifff,” I say.
He leans forward, offering me his hand. “What’s that now?”
Still gasping for breath, I reach for his hand. “Ifff…my opponent is—”
Quick like magic, he’s flipped me onto my stomach, my cheek planted in the dirt, the little breath I’d managed to gather gone out of me.
“You did it again,” Gryphon says.
Eero nods sadly. “You really did,” he says, kneeling as he aims his pointer and middle fingers at his eyes. “You were looking at his hands rather than his peepers.”
I nod, a hot little fire building inside me. I roll onto my back and stare up at Gryphon. His smile is arch as he offers me his hand yet again. My eyes flick to it, baiting him.
Quick like a wasp, he strikes for my wrist, but I’m expecting it this time. I let him grab it, but rather than try to stand, I pull him toward me. He’s caught off balance. I sweep my leg around, hooking him behind his ankle, placing unexpected pressure on his Achilles tendon—one of the weakest points in the leg. He begins to buckle. I launch myself off the ground, planning to shove him over while his stability is compromised.
But he has years of training on me.
We meet in the middle.
He uses my upward momentum to stabilize himself, grabbing me around the waist and pivoting his weight to the left leg. He holds me off the ground, tight to him, our faces inches apart, our breath dancing. I keep my eyes locked on his, defiant, and feel his body pressed against me. It’s like being held by a tree. A warm, confusing tree.
“Whoo-hoo!” Eero says, clapping.
Gryphon releases me. I stand on my own two legs, which are surprisingly shaky. He still hasn’t looked away, so I don’t, either. His expression is one I’ve never seen before, at least directed at me. Surprised delight? Before I can decide, his eyes take the slightest tack to the left and I hop to the right, avoiding the hand he thrusts out. A lifetime of studying patients’ every move, anticipating their weaknesses, their needs, and their flailing limbs, has paid off.
To my everlasting surprise, I throw my head back and laugh. I feel strong, and I feelgood.
“Did she learn that one quick enough for you, Gryph?” Eero teases.
My laughter melts as I realize I have no idea how Gryphon is going to react. I nearly bested him in front of his trainees. He might be outraged. His father certainly would be. But to my relief, I see that he’s grinning. It’s full and generous and flies straight to my heart. For the second time this week, I consider that the boy he used to be, the friend of my childhood, might be standing before me.
“Yeah,” Gryphon says, chuckling. “That’s quick enough for me.”
I risk a glance at the others. Little Marie is open-mouthed, Eero mirroring her, and Oscar is shaking his head with a smirk. Meryl looks like she wants to hug me. Sal’s the only one who appears unimpressed. The reflex to make myself small again is automatic; it takes all my will to shove it down.
“Pair up,” Gryphon says, his smile gone as he returns to business. “Eero and Rose, Oscar and Meryl. Sal, you’re with me. Everyone watch us demonstrate before trying it on your own. Here’s how to use wrist locks to contain someone.”
Gryphon is placing his fingers on Sal’s trigger points and explaining the results. I’m thrilled to discover my medical training lends me a hand in this exercise, too. I bring Eero to the ground quickly and repeatedly. He gets in a few good locks on me, though.
“Sun and Soil, Rose, you’re pretty good at this,” he says as he rubs his elbow where he’s just landed on it. We’re both filthy and soon to be covered in bruises, but I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more alive. “You sure you don’t practice in secret?”
