Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

A good several minutes later, their staves came together in an unspoken draw.

“Very well done,” Collin told her, his grin resurfacing. “You’ve become a master since our first lessons.”

Kyrin couldn’t keep from matching his grin. “Thank you. You taught me well, but you could’ve had me during the match.”

“Could I have?” Mischief sparked in his eyes at his feigned ignorance.

“I lost my balance, and you hesitated.”

Collin leaned on his staff. “What can I say? I’m a gentleman.”

Kyrin chuckled lightly. Ridiculous charmer. “Thank you, sir, for an excellent workout.”

“Any time.”

Kyrin tucked her staff under her arm and reached to loosen the laces of her bracers on her way toward the supply building. She didn’t dare check the faces of the other girls. When she did look up, Kaden waited at the edge of the field. Moisture glistened on his forehead and darkened his shirt. His expression bordered on a scowl as he stared past her. She glanced over her shoulder. Collin now mingled with the other girls, to their near-swooning delight.

When Kyrin moved past, Kaden followed.

“He likes you, you know.”

“Collin?” She shook her head in dismissal. “He likes most girls over sixteen at Tarvin Hall.” Half the reason Kaden couldn’t stand him.

“Do you like him?”

Kyrin gave a short laugh. “Kaden, really, you know me better than that.”

He cast one more suspicious glance back at Collin.

“And anyway, what would you do if I said yes? Threaten him?”

Kaden’s mouth opened, but Kyrin held up her hand. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” It would probably be more than a threat considering Collin’s cockiness.

After depositing the equipment in the supply building, Kyrin and Kaden walked back to the Hall. When they entered, they met Master Zocar.

“It’s about time for afternoon worship,” he announced. He eyed their sweaty, rumpled uniforms. “After you’ve changed, join us.”

Kyrin stiffened.

When neither replied, his eyes narrowed a bit. “It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen you two at the temple.”

Kyrin’s heart beat much harder than she wanted it to. Why did her mind have to go so blank? Before she could formulate a reply, Kaden spoke up in a calm and casual manner.

“We can pray and worship much better when we’re alone and it’s quiet. It’s distracting with so many people. We notice too much around us. Especially Kyrin.”

Master Zocar’s eyes slid between them, and he didn’t speak for a long moment. Kyrin held his gaze steadily whenever it turned to her and resisted the intense urge to swallow.

At last, he nodded. “All right, but I expect you to spend the next hour in prayer and reflection.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaden responded, almost too dutifully.

Master Zocar gave them one final semi-stern look and strode away.

Once he was far down the hall, Kyrin blew out a sigh, glad Kaden had taken over.

“So how much longer do you think we can hide the fact we’re followers of King Elôm?” he murmured.

Kyrin shook her head and her shoulders drooped. “I think the bigger question is what will happen when we’re found out?”

N
ight had fallen by the time the men finished with the pickerin. Rayad helped Aldor close up the barn, and all three of them stopped at the well on their way to the cabin. Tyra followed, licking her lips contentedly while her sides bulged with pickerin meat. Once cleaned of blood and hair, the men went inside. The savory smell of beef soup and fresh bread greeted them, and they found Kalli bent over at the hearth. She hummed a happy tune as she stirred the contents of the steaming cast-iron pot hanging over the flames of the large fireplace.

She straightened. “I bet you men are hungry. Sit down, all of you.”

“Smells delicious,” Aldor told his wife as he and the others took their seats around the hardwood table.

“It sure does,” Rayad agreed. Far better than
anything he used to make living on his own. He hadn’t eaten so well since his mother passed decades ago. In fact, it was his mother who had helped Kalli hone her cooking skills.

Kalli smiled in appreciation and turned once more to the hearth. She stirred the soup again and reached for the handle, but Jace pushed back his chair to stop her. “Let me help you.”

He took the heavy pot for her and set it on the table.

The old woman gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, dear.”

A smile rested on Rayad’s lips. What a kind soul Jace turned out to be, especially when it came to Kalli. The two of them adored each other. Considering how despicably ryriks treated women, Rayad thanked Elôm every day for this. After all, he’d been the one to bring Jace into their home, but Jace would far sooner harm himself than the old couple. Any fears Rayad had in the beginning, Jace had laid to rest a long time ago.

Kalli took her seat, and Aldor led them in a short but sincere prayer to their Creator and Provider. When he finished, they eagerly passed the food around. All the work springtime brought made them hungry. While they ate the hearty meal, Rayad said, “I think I’ll ride into Kinnim tomorrow. Aros has a shoe loose, and it’s been a while since I’ve heard the latest news.”

He never liked to be kept in the dark too long about Arcacia’s current affairs. He didn’t trust the emperor to keep things peaceful.

“Good,” Aldor replied. “I could use a few things.”

Rayad looked across the table at Jace, who appeared too busy with the meal to heed the conversation. “Do you want to join me, Jace?”

His blue eyes rose briefly, but an answer was slow in coming. He went to great lengths to avoid towns and other people. It had taken Rayad a full year and a half to convince him to come along the first time. He tried to coax him out of his comfort zone when he could and help him develop more trust toward people, but seventeen years of
being treated like an animal wouldn’t erase easily.

When Jace did speak, it was almost too quiet to hear. “Sure.”

Rayad gave him a smile, thanking Elôm for the progress they had made. It may look small to an outsider, but for them, they’d climbed mountains, one painful step at a time, with many dark valleys in between.

Jace took another wet bowl from Kalli and wiped it dry with the dishtowel. Behind him, Rayad and Aldor discussed what supplies they needed from town. He grimaced, his stomach already winding up in a knot. He should never have agreed to go along. No visit had ever been comfortable despite Rayad’s encouragement. He simply had no place in the
general public—but he wouldn’t back out now.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

Jace looked down into Kalli’s plump, motherly expression. “Nothing.” He gave her a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

She tipped her head with a look of gentle scolding. “Now don’t be fretting about those people in town. They’re fools if they judge you before they know you. It’s their loss, not yours.”

Jace’s smile strengthened. No other person in the world possessed the ability to cheer him up like Kalli. She had a way of making everything seem all right no matter what the circumstances.

Once the two of them finished with the dishes, Kalli instructed him to sit down again so she could tend his wound and fussed over how long they’d waited. By her estimation, it was only moments away from festering and causing his death.

Jace bit back the urge to grin and rolled up his pant leg. “See, only a scratch.” He hoped no laughter came through in his voice.

Kalli shook her finger at him. “Even a scratch can become infected. Those pickerins aren’t clean animals.”

Jace didn’t argue, allowing her to dote on him. After all, without a mother growing up, he could use every ounce of Kalli’s love. Tyra sat at his side and rested her head in his lap until it came time for her turn.

“Well, I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Aldor said as the evening grew late. He pushed back from the table. “Best get to bed.”

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Kalli told him.

He rose, as did Rayad.

“I think I’ll turn in as well.” He looked at Jace. “What about you?”

“After I take Tyra out.”

Jace left the table and stepped out onto the wide front porch. Tyra followed. The nighttime chill in the breeze sent a shiver across his skin, and Jace drew a deep breath of the fresh air. He liked the quiet and stillness of the night. While Tyra tended to her business, Jace glanced over the farm. Though well past dark, to his eyes everything appeared as more of a twilight. He looked up at the two large moons overhead, their silver and bluish light competing with the stars. Far off in the trees, a wolf howled. His gaze fell on Tyra, but she walked toward him, uncaring of the life she could have in the wild.

“Ready to go in?”

She glanced up, crystal blue eyes glowing, and he turned back to the door. Yet, when he gripped the knob, a cold sensation prickled the hair at the back of his neck. Behind him, Tyra growled. He looked over his shoulder. The wolf stared off at the woods across the clearing. Another menacing growl rumbled from her throat, and Jace peered into the shadowed trees. An unexplainable churning took hold of his gut, but nothing appeared out of place.

For a while, the two of them just stood watching and listening. Eventually, Tyra joined him at the door. Jace released a pent-up breath, and his stomach settled a little. Probably just another wolf or a bear, but for most of his life he’d had to watch his back, never trusting anyone. Even now, it was difficult to live without such suspicion. With one last sweep of the farm, he followed Tyra into the cabin and bolted the door securely.

Kalli had gone to bed, but left a candle burning on the table. Jace’s smile crept out. Even after three years, she still forgot he didn’t need light to see in the dark, but he appreciated her thoughtfulness. He blew out the flame and climbed the stairs to his room. Tyra trailed behind.

His small bedroom held little more than his bed and a dresser, yet it was the first private room he’d ever had. The first private sanctuary he could call his own. Tyra found her place on the old rug at the foot of his bed and, after turning a few times, nestled in for the night. Before preparing for sleep, Jace walked to the window and opened it wide so either he or Tyra would be able to detect anyone or anything prowling around the cabin. Braced against the sill, he peered out at the forest. Another chill tickled his arms, but he tried to convince himself it was only the breeze.