Page 78 of The Death King
“Like this?” I swung my fist at his face.
He caught it and spun my arm down. “Yes. But next time, do it when I’m not expecting it.” He shoved me back and made me skid across the floor because he could pack so much momentum in a single movement. “Grab your sword. Let’s go again.”
We worked for several hours, and while I wanted to stop many times, I never once asked. I wouldn’t let myself look weak in front of anyone, not ever again, and especially not in front of him. So, we pressed on, my body getting more bruises, my muscles screaming with exhaustion, my throat dry and desperate for water.
We finally stopped.
Talon moved to one of the armchairs.
I chose to sit on the floor, exactly where I’d been standing a second ago.
One of his servants appeared and brought us water, placing the decanter on the table beside Talon, along with two glasses. He poured the water then left the room.
I didn’t want to get up, but I was desperate for water.
He sat there, knees far apart, and took a drink as he stared at me. Just a drink, didn’t gulp it down, as if the workout wasn’t as demanding for him as it’d been for me.
It didn’t take me long to swallow my pride and take the seat beside him.
I drank the glass in a single go, refilled it from the pitcher, and then drank another glass, just as thirsty as I’d been working in the Arid Sands. My head rested against the armchair, and my eyes glazed over in exhaustion.
He stared at me the entire time. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute break and resume.”
My eyes snapped to him in shock. “What?”
He grinned. “Couldn’t help it.”
“That’s the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I wish that were true.” His grin disappeared, along with his stare. He grabbed his glass and took another drink.
Now I was the one to stare at him, to see the way his throat shifted as he drank, see the shadow that traced his jawline and reached down the top part of his neck.
He returned the glass to the table and continued to look elsewhere, his hard expression implying his thoughts were in a distant land. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, and his body looked even heavier in the armor constructed just for him.
My eyes drifted down, seeing the black stones fused into the armor, iridescent and pure despite their dark color. They were the very rocks I’d spent a decade of my life finding, a shovel in the sand, the sun hot on my back. “What are they for?”
He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at me, his eyes following my stare.
“Why are they so valuable?” Were they simply ornamentation? Jewelry to complement his lavish armor? He didn’t strike me as a man who cared about appearance that much.
He held my stare, the silence stretching on forever.
“You asked me to fight for you, but you continue to keep me in the dark.”
“You hate me, do you not?”
I felt my pulse quicken in my neck.
His unblinking stare continued.
“I don’t hate you as much…” If he’d never come to these lands, my father would still be alive and my dignity preserved. But he was also the man who made me feel again, gave me desires that melted my stomach from the searing heat. I found myself wanting more from him, not less. I always wanted our conversations to go further, wanting to know everything about him because I knew he hid a powerful tale behind the veil. My feelings for King Talon were quite complicated.
His stare didn’t let up, and then he looked away. “That’s a compliment coming from you.”
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Do I ever?”