Page 51 of House of Ashes
“Training.” With an iron grip on my willpower, I fetched my sword from the floor without groaning or collapsing. A draga had to maintain some small semblance of dignity.
When I straightened up, he was watching me with a glint in his eye.
“You’re telling me that Kirana wants you to stop training.”
“Mm-hmm.” I was the picture of innocence, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the sword, polishing the metal until it shone.
“And what, exactly, might you be doing to cause such a reaction?” Rhylan tilted his head, a lock of hair falling over one eye. I was extremely focused on cleaning my weapon; my eyes wanted to track the bead of sweat sliding over the ridges of his abdomen, where muscles were layered on top of muscles under dark gold skin, but the sword really needed quite a bit of attention.
“All I’m doing,” I said delicately, swiping the cloth upwards over the blade, “In exact terms, is training as much as I need to in order to keep this ruse in place.”
I wiped the sword from tip to hilt again slowly, sure I’d seen a flaw in the steel. Weapons did need to be tended to remain in their best condition.
Rhylan watched my hand move back up, sucking in his lower lip and biting it.
“Would you care to describe this training?” he asked, taking another step into the room.
“Absolutely.” My hands were shaking as I tried to wipe the damn flaw away. “I’ve been doing cardiovascular exercises and strength work. Things to, ah, get the blood flowing.”
Another step, slow and stalking.
“Mmm.” His gaze raked me from head to toe again, taking in my flushed face and sweaty clothes. “And have you been stretching properly after these exercises?”
“Well—”
“Because I didn’t see you do any stretching. You stopped training and went right to cleaning up your weapon.”
His hand closed around mine, on the hilt of the sword.
I couldn’t breathe; it was entirely too hot this deep in the mountain, where the stone walls were warmed by volcanic activity below.
“Maybe,” he breathed, taking it out of my hand, “You should get on the floor, and do things in the correct order, don’t you think?”
A retort was on the tip of my tongue, but if I was thinking clearly, he was right; the sword was fine. It was my leg muscles and shoulders that were cramped and throbbing, guaranteeing a sleepless night of agony.
“As much as it pains me to admit you have a point...”
My lungs failed as Rhylan leaned down inches from my face, his eyes never leaving mine as he fetched the sheath from the wall next to me; he slid the sword in without even looking at it.
It slid home with a definite snap right in front of my eyes, the muscles in his forearms flexing.
“Floor,” he ordered. “Now.”
Any rejoinder I had was gone. My entire vocabulary had seemingly deserted my tired brain.
But before I could drop down, he shook his head. “On your back.”
Some distant part of me was shrieking to run out of there, but I couldn’t remember why. It didn’t seem very important at all anymore.
I rolled onto my back with a small whimper of pain, stretching out across the smooth floorboards.
Rhylan knelt next to me, sliding a hand under my knee. My heart started galloping again, like I’d just run up and down the spiral stairs, when Rhylan frowned.
“Raise your leg up. Your hamstrings are hard as stone.”
Without waiting for me to begin the movement, he pushed my leg upwards, keeping it straight.
Pain burst into vivid life as a muscle in my thigh cramped, balling into a tight knot. I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body tensing, and when Rhylan dug his thumb into the knot, pushing down hard, I bit back a cry.