Leaning on one elbow, Kade watched me. His tousled hair shone in the sunlight and his amber-colored gaze beckoned.
Tempted, I looked away. “Besides, the activity helps me burn off my frustration.”
“There are other ways to…exercise.”
I smiled over his word choice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Thunder and lightning, girl! How much frustration do you have? I would think after last night…”
“It helped, but ignoring the snide remarks and slights from my fellow students, and suffering through the delicate and cautious way my teachers treat me every day, I need to punch something. I ruined one training bag already imagining Skippy’s face on the black leather.”
“That bad?”
“Imagine Raiden convinced you a storm was coming and you ran and told all the other Stormdancers to prepare for a big nasty blow. But they don’t believe you. When Raiden shows up, he tells everyone he lied to you and you fell for it. Fell for it so hard you still think a big nasty is coming despite being told otherwise. How would the others treat you when you try to warn them? How would you feel, knowing you’re right but unable to prove it?” I gripped my arms, to stop from saying more.
This past season had been wasted time. Devlen and Ulrick could be anywhere by now, teaching blood magic to anyone. When the Council finally believed me, they might have a whole army of Warpers to deal with instead of a few.
“You have a good point.” Kade threw back the rest of the blankets. “While you’re busy, I’ll go submit my official request to the Masters.”
“Request?”
He paused on the edge of the bed. “I guess I should ask you first. You might want to stay here and train.” He teased.
“Kade.” A mock warning rumbled through my voice.
“We have about thirty days left until the next round of storms. Although they’re milder than the cooling season’s, the heating season has produced a few rogue nasties in the past. We don’t have any orbs and we need to teach the new glassmakers how to make them all in the next month.”
I understood. “And only one person knows the sand recipe for the orbs.”
“You never told Zitora?”
“Didn’t have time and now she avoids me.”
“Then tell me. Not knowing worked when that group held me up on the ice sheet, but there is no reason to stay ignorant,” Kade said.
“Forty percent—”
“Whisper it.” He tapped his ear. “Just in case Skippy’s nearby.”
“Nice try, but I know you’ll just grab me.”
He feigned innocence, but I ignored him.
“Am I that predictable?” he asked.
“Like a hot-season thunderstorm.”
Groaning, he flopped back on the bed. “It’s too early in the morning for a weather analogy. Go.” He shooed. “Tell me later when I’m awake enough to remember it.”
I left my quarters, and when Skippy fell into step behind me, I didn’t care. My thoughts dwelled on Kade and the possibility of leaving the Keep.
My opponent lunged, shot through my defenses and jabbed me in the solar plexus. I expelled all the air in my lungs in one harsh whoosh.
“You’re dead. Third time today.” Captain Marrok leaned on his wooden practice sword as if it were a cane.
Doubled over, I struggled to breathe. My sais grew heavier in my hands with every gasp.
“What’s going on? You’re better than this.” He pointed at me with his sword. “Since I’ve been the Weapons Master, I haven’t had a student work as hard as you or improve so much.”
“Sorry…” I puffed. “I’m…distracted.”
“Then get undistracted. You’re not going to get a second chance in a real fight. Treat every practice bout as the real thing.” He tossed the weapon down. “Go work with Sarn on self-defense tactics. Maybe that’ll help you refocus.”
I suppressed my groan. Sarn outweighed me by a hundred pounds. Thick barrels of muscle bulged from his arms, legs and chest. He was easy to outrun, but, if he clamped his oversize hands on me, my chances of winning went from slim to none. He wouldn’t let go unless forced and he felt no pain. Muscles even covered his fingers. Who had muscular fingers? The man was a mutant.
The one sliver of brightness in working with Sarn was, if I broke free from him, I could get away from anyone. No success so far, but not for lack of trying.
“Hiya, Opal! You back for another session?” Sarn asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Unfazed by my grumbled reply, he grinned. “Great! What do you want to start with? Stranglehold? Choke hold? Ground pin? Armlock? Leg lock?”
“Such choices. You really know how to spoil a girl.”
“You know me, the King of Smooth. There! I made you smile.” He beamed as if he’d just passed a final exam.
Mutant he might be, but he was the nicest mutant I knew. However, all kind thoughts vanished when he wrapped his hands around my throat. My own fingers instinctively pulled at his before I remembered it would be a waste of time. With my hands free, a number of other moves remained.
I tried a palm strike to his chin. No effect. I used hammer fists down on the crook of his arms and then slammed my forearms up into his elbows. Nothing. My vision buzzed with white-and-black spots. Time almost up. I needed a weak spot within reach.
Without thought, I pressed my fingers and thumb into his right wrist. He dropped to his knees with a cry of pain. Confused at first, I stared at him as he yelled for me to stop.