I was pleasantly surprised to find myself a fast learner. Keane could still overpower me with frightening ease, but I was making him work harder at it than he had yesterday. Hard enough for a fine sheen of sweat to coat his brow. He should have smelled of nasty, stinky guy, but instead I caught the mingled scents of leather and something unfamiliar, yet faintly herbal.
One time when we were rolling around on the mat, I ended up on my back with my hands pinned beside my head. I was eye to eye with him, the entire front of his body pressed against mine. I felt his breath against my cheek, and I smelled the leather-and-herb scent that was beginning to be familiar—and delicious. His hair hung over one of his eyes, hiding it behind an inky black fringe, but I still felt trapped more by his stare than by his hold. His pupils dilated, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.
He did not look amused. He did not look annoyed. None of his usual expressions. Instead, I’d say he looked … surprised. He lay there on top of me, looking into my eyes, failing to snark at me for not trying to fight my way free.
“Can we just pretend I head-butted you?” I asked breathlessly. “My head aches enough already.” It wasn’t a lie, either. I didn’t know how many times I’d crashed my skull into him this morning, but it was a lot.
His grip on my wrists loosened, and a faint smile lifted his lips. “Fair enough,” he said, then rolled off of me, lying on his back beside me just out of touching distance.
I immediately missed the warmth of his body. Of course, it had to be just a rebound thing. There was no way I was interested in this arrogant, obnoxious jerk. No matter how hot he might be.
Still, he hadn’t looked arrogant and obnoxious just now. “Can I ask you something?” I said, staring up at the ceiling so I didn’t have to be tempted by his hotness.
“Sure,” he responded, and he sounded much friendlier than he had since I’d first met him.
“Is all this attitude stuff just part of the lesson, or do you really have something against me?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, not looking at me, the expression on his face thoughtful. I stayed where I was, somehow fearing any movement I made would turn him back into his usual self.
“It’s not you, exactly,” he finally said. “I just don’t like being told what to do.” He smiled sardonically. “One of the reasons Knight training didn’t work out for me.”
I frowned up at him. “I thought you chose not to enter Knight training.”
“No, I chose not to stay in Knight training.” He smiled wryly. “It was something of a mutual decision. I didn’t want to blindly follow orders, they didn’t want to deal with a troublemaker.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
He blew out a breath. “Nothing, exactly.” He turned to face me, crossing his legs.
I was tired of looking up at him, so I pushed myself up into a sitting position. “I don’t get it.”
He met my gaze steadily. “Why do you think they chose an eighteen-year-old Knight reject to be your teacher?” he asked.
“Huh?” I asked intelligently.
“There are Fae out there who have centuries of experience with fighting and with teaching. I’m good, but I’m not that good. So why would your father, who could afford anyone he wanted to hire, choose me?”
“Because you’re Finn’s son?” I suggested.
“That made a convenient excuse. I bet my father was even the one to suggest it. But there’s more to it than that.”
“Go on. Spell it out for me.” There was a hard lump in my gut, and I clenched my teeth tightly.
He looked away. “Your father had a private word with me before he left for work yesterday. He didn’t come out and say it—he’s far too subtle for that—but he suggested I might want to ‘befriend’ you.” He made air quotes. “He said you’d made a couple of Unseelie friends, and he wanted to offer you a Seelie alternative.”
I lowered my head into my hands, fighting a sudden urge to hunt my dad down and personally show him all the neat tricks Keane had taught me.
“I didn’t much appreciate the suggestion,” Keane continued in a massive understatement. He sighed. “But it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. Sorry.” He managed another smile. “Don’t get me wrong—my teaching methods are never warm and fuzzy, and if you don’t feel like smashing my face in when we’re sparring, then I’ll feel like I’ve done something wrong.”
I gave a little snort of laughter. “Thanks for telling me. And I’m sorry my dad’”
“You don’t have to apologize for your father.” He pushed to his feet, and I could see the drill-sergeant mask drop back into place. “Now, enough resting. Let’s get back to work.”
I was sore, tired, and pissed off at my dad for his behind-the-scenes matchmaking, or whatever it was he’d thought he was doing. But despite everything, I couldn’t say I was completely unhappy to spend more time in Keane’s arms, even if it was just to fight.
• • •
I spent much of the afternoon debating whether I should confront my dad about pushing Keane at me. Based on the brutal honesty he’d already shown me, I knew he’d tell me the truth about what he’d done, and maybe even about why. The question was, did I want the truth?