Page 37 of Bull Moon Rising

Gwenna glares at me. “Reasons. There are lots of reasons for her to be safe in the back and not at the front.”

And I’m sure most of them deal with the fact that I’m nobility, but of course we can’t say that. I just shake my head at her. “I want to do whatever I’m best at. And if it means to be the bulwark, then I shall happily contribute.”

Hawk raises his hands in the air. “This is a lovely conversation and I’m glad you’re all working together, but I didn’taskwhat position you wanted. I asked what you had experience in. It’s clear to me that some of you are useless.”

“Hey,” Lark protests.

“Not you,” he says. “Aspeth. She’s the weak link in your chain right now.”

“Rude!” I’m mortified at his words. I’m a holder’s daughter. I’m educated. I cannot be the weak link. “You haven’t even assessed me yet!”

“I can tell just because of how soft you are.”

“Hear that, team? He thinks she’s soft.” Lark chortles.

He points at her, furious. “You made it sexual, when all I meant was that she has no muscles or stamina. She’s…she’s…pillowy.”

“Please, stop,” I say dryly. “My ego can’t take much more.” Pillowy. How humiliating.

Hawk glares at both me and Lark, as if I had anything to do with his assessment of my fluffiness. “It’s crucial that your skills are tested because if the wrong person is put in the lead, you could all die.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I can’t help but notice that his guild coat is missing again today. It’s almost as if he prefers to wear as little as possible when training us….

And then my face goes crimson at the thought.

“I’m going to be placing you based on your performance with weapons,” he continues. “You’ll all needsomecompetency level, and whoever is the best at attacking—or defending—will take the front two positions. Understand?”

The slitherskin growls again.

I can already tell I’m going to be at the back, since he considers me “pillowy.”

“Enough. All of you get a weapon from the rack. Let’s practice for now and see what natural skills you’ve got.” Hawk moves aside, gesturing at the array of weapons.

Oh dear. I’m reasonably confident that I have zero weapons skills. The closest I’ve ever gotten to a weapon is choosing which knife and fork to use at society dinners. Delicately, I move forward and consider the selection. There are more knives, of course, and what looks like a rather short and skinny sword with a pointed tip. The shields at the end of the rack are excessively curved, as if cupping the body, and seem rather small for, well, shielding.

“You wear both at the same time,” Hawk says, answering my unspoken question. “There’s a bracer for each shield, and a good bulwark can utilize both at the same time and expand and combine them to provide the most shielding possible for his team.”

“Ah, I see.” I don’t, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me going toward shields just yet. I move past Mereden, who picks up a spiky-looking club, and take the sword gingerly in hand. It looks, well…stubby. At my side, Gwenna jostles me, picking up a pair of daggers. “How come everything is so short?”

“The same reason you’re in a narrow room,” Hawk replies. “You need to learn to fight in close quarters. You’re not going to have room to swing a massive sword in a narrow tunnel, so you have to learn to fight with smaller ones. It’s why you won’t see a full-on quarterstaff or training with a bow and arrow. These are tunnel tactics.”

Oh. It makes sense, I suppose. “What about a crossbow? Or a blow dart?”

He tilts his head, and his horns look surprisingly rakish when he does. Not that I’m noticing such things about my new husband. “Are you good with either?”

“Well, no—”

“Then it doesn’t mucking matter, does it?”

Grr. I bite my lip to keep from retorting something impolite.

He takes my hand and curls it around the hilt of the sword I’m holding. “You practice with this. Learn the basics. When you master them, then we can talk about other weaponry.”

I hold the delicate sword in front of me and wave it in the air, trying to emulate Kipp’s effortless swings from earlier.

“That,” Hawk says, putting a hand over mine to lower it and stop my movements, “is a stabbing blade, not a swinging one. And you’re going to put someone’s eye out. Let’s work on your grip first, all of you. Get a sword and stand in line, and we’ll work on the basics.”

TWELVE

ASPETH