Page 72 of Deck of Scarlets

I shoved him playfully back off the mat, returned to the center, and waited for my next round of instructions.

“Do it again,” he ordered.

“The stance?” I asked.

Josh nodded once, pointing with the real dagger to proceed as he leaned against the marble pillar. Awkwardly, I tried my best to get the fighting stance in a quick and steady motion, failing each time because the dagger would fall or I’d somehow manage to scuff the mat with my sneakers too hard and trip over myself. I thought being Blessed gave me the advantage of fighting better, and my mind went to Grams, wondering if she had just as hard a time as I did. I bet she had early training. I bet her parents didn’t lie to her and prepared her for what was to come. I got the shitty end of the stick. Literally.

After some time, and Josh’s loud remarks of how I moved, I prepared once more, arm cocked, and sent the wooden dagger straight to the bullseye, stunned that it landed just a few spaces over from the center.

Pride swelled in my chest for myself. “Not half bad, right?”

He smiled, and it touched his eyes, the first genuine smile he’d given me since move-in day. “Not bad, indeed.”

I made my way over to remove the dagger, pulling it out of the rubber dummy. Touching the hole where the dagger pierced it, I thought of Emilia and her scary guardian, Cillian. “Can I ask you a question?”

He gestured for me to continue.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me there were more Scarlets and Saints?”

Josh took a sip from a black sports water bottle. “As you stated, you knew nothing of this world, especially its history. Once our training is complete here, we are allowed to join the fleet or become an Ace.”

“Where would you go?”

“Where my Scarlet goes.”

The word my shouldn’t have given me a weird stomach flip, but of course, how it sounded coming from him did just that, and more.

“That doesn’t sound fair to you. We didn’t sign a contract where you’re my personal bodyguard for life.” I cracked my knuckles, lining up my shot.

“Guardians are bonded to their Scarlets for life.”

For life? Shaking my head, I positioned myself toward the dummy, cocked my arm back, and threw, just an inch off from where I needed to land. “How were they able to come on school grounds, dressed like—”

“Like warriors of the night? After your ceremony, you’ll receive a blessed stone, which is able to hide you from nonmembers when trying to sneak around.” Josh removed a silver chain from his neck, dangling an amethyst stone from his fingers. It shimmered in the light as it swayed.

God, I truly knew nothing about this world.

Clasping it back around his neck, he threw a few more wooden daggers at my feet, some sharper than others. “Again.”

For about an hour, and that hour felt like eternity, I perfected my stance, only to miss the bullseye by a fraction. Frustration rumbled in my chest every time I threw the stupid, fake weapon, groaning. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Clearly, I can’t. Are you not paying attention?”

Josh joined me on the mat, but only to turn my body by my waist, his hands gentle with the movement. “Pick a dagger.” Releasing his hold, Josh gave me two to choose from. I picked the weird brownish one with the crooked tip, stroking the smooth pommel.

“Get your stance ready,” he commanded, the light in his eyes darkening.

Readying myself for the hundredth time, Josh slid his hands down my arms, cocking the dagger back with me. His breath tickled my neck, his body flush against my back. “Breathe in as you aim and release that breath when you throw. On the count of three?”

Our movements mirrored one another as I inhaled deeply, feeling his chest rise against my back. Completely in sync, we exhaled as the dagger soared through the air, landing perfectly on the bullseye.

We stood, pressed against one another for what seemed like a while, his hands closing over mine. Breathing heavily, I looked over my shoulder, his lips only inches from my own. Our breaths mingled, his eyes downcast, heating my body from the inside out. Those curls fanned his forehead, and I resisted the urge to run my fingers through them. But when my eyes landed on that little silver hoop in his ear, I risked such an action and tapped it gently with my finger, watching it move back and forth.

“Better?” he breathed; his eyes dilated on the last syllable.

“Much,” I responded breathlessly.