Page 56 of Tender Thorns
Kage hauls the large door open, and the muffled grunts grow louder, along with the thuds of bodies hitting the sand. Ziv’s face is the first one I see.
The urge to run over and throw myself at him tightens my muscles, but I force myself to take slow strides into the arena. His eyes roam over my features, warming every inch of skin they touch, but his face remains stoic.
I’m still aware of Kage behind me, but I would be lying if I said Ziv’s alure wasn’t stronger. I tell myself it’s because I know Ziv better, but I don’t really know him at all, not the little things. I know his soul though, because it’s intertwined with mine.
His hands, hanging loosely at his sides, ball into fists as I make my way across the ring to meet him. He’s more than imposing with the brutal backdrop of sand and bodies littering the field between us. I stop three paces away, sensing a proverbial wall around him. This isn’t the same male I woke beside this morning.
“Go find your bow,” he instructs. No pleasantries or even a hello. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this, and it takes my mind a second longer than it should to process thechange in him. “Go!” he barks, and I jump into action, but I have no idea where to begin looking, because we didn’t work in this room last time.
“You don’t need to be a dick,” Kage chastises him as I scamper through the sand.
“We’re here to make sure she survives, not hold her hand.” I understand the sentiment, and had I been prepared for it. I could have taken it in stride or at least pretended to, but the sting of rejection hurts.
I jog to the wall and open the first cabinet I see. It’s filled with blades and knives, so I move on to the next and the next until I finally find a longbow and quiver. It only takes me seconds to grab and head back into the ring.
I know exactly where Ziv is standing, since he hasn’t moved, but I allow my gaze to bounce around, taking in the row of targets behind him and the other novices in the immediate area.
Kage steps into my path and stops me. “I won’t be far.”
“Okay, see you in a few hours.” I move past him, adopting Ziv’s cool demeanor. I feel his eyes on my back as I work to get through the sand, and there’s a part of me that feels bad for how I dismissed him, but I shove the notion down, right along with my own hurt feelings.
ZIV
Briar doesn’t even look at me when she returns from the supply cabinet with the longbow, but she intones flatly, “Ready.”
“Pick one of the targets and begin working.”
She notches the arrow and pulls the string to her cheek, but before I can remind her to reset, she adjusts and repositions to the side of her lips. She’s a quick learner.
The arrow flies, hitting the target but missing the center. “Again.”
By the sixth time she retrieves her arrows, she’s improved a fair bit, but I know if I push her more, she will lose that progress because her arms are shaking badly from the exertion. Havingher close to me for the last twenty minutes has eased my ire considerably, allowing me to feel regret about how I treated her.
She hasn’t spoken a word to me, but what’s worse is the fact that she won’t look at me. She’s just performing like she was told to without complaint. “We’re done with the bow.” My voice is tight with frustration, and she picks up on it. Her shoulders stiffen, tucking in closer to her body while she dips her chin toward her chest.
When it becomes evident she’s waiting for her next instruction, I give it to her. “Drop the bow.”
The wood hits the sand at her feet faster than her next heartbeat. I move closer to her so my next words will not be overheard through the din of the arena. “Little flower.”
She actually flinches but doesn’t respond in any other way. I know I messed up the moment I see her reaction. I’m the one who insisted on putting a wall between us, yet I’m the first to blur the line the moment her reaction becomes hard for me to watch.
“Briar.”
“Yes?”
“We’re going to work on striking points. The places to attack your enemy.” I reach for her and place my hand on her elbow. This is knowledge she needs, but it’s also an excuse to touch her. “Your elbow is your best asset.”
I move closer under the guise of instruction, but I whisper an admission of guilt. “I’m sorry.” She darts her eyes in my direction, but there’s no other sign she heard me. “I heard what happened.” I bend her arm, then I guide it back until her elbow lands against my open palm. “I need to prepare you so you can defend yourself.” My lips are inches away from her hair, and I want so badly to touch her.
“I know. I’ll try harder.” Her reply is soft as she accepts all the blame that resides squarely on my shoulders.
“Your effort isn’t the problem, Briar.”
“I know I’m weak.” Her words cut through me, deeper than the scars on my back.
“If you were weak, you would be dead.”
“There were times I wished I were,” she confesses, and my chest constricts so tightly, I have to force myself to take my next breath. “But I was always too afraid to give up. I’m really just a chicken, and now you’re stuck with me.”
