Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
He waves as I pass, a pang of jealousy hitting when I see another garden worker with him. She probably delivered the produce today. I liked my routine in the garden, but Vance ruined it. At least temporarily. I hope to be back there soon.
When I reach the ring, no one’s outside it. I hesitate outside the closed door before opening it and walking inside.
There are around fifty people inside the ring at various stations. Some are practicing archery, others are using rocks like weights and lifting them, and others are doing pushups in the mud.
Through the swirling flakes, I see Marcus demonstrating archery form to a small group. I get the usual flutter in my stomach, but I ignore it, walking around the perimeter of the training area to reach him.
I watch as he nocks an arrow and takes aim at a target, talking to the people nearby as he does it. He goes quiet for a few seconds and then shoots the arrow, which lands dead center on the target.
A woman claps, but he silences her with a scowl. He glances in my direction, doing a double take when he sees me.
Passing the bow off to a woman, he talks to her for a few seconds before coming over to me.
“How long’ve you been there?” he asks.
“Since before you were applauded.”
He shoots me a quick, halfhearted look of annoyance. “How you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Did you find Ellison?”
Did I ever. I laugh inwardly over the absurd idea of telling him what we talked about.
Not a chance in hell. I just nod.
His eyes land on the sheathed knife at my waist. “You still interested in taking me to the place where you found that?”
My pulse pounds as his gaze locks onto mine. I’m stuck on the word interested. So stuck that I can’t seem to get a single word out of my mouth. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
He dips his chin toward the knife. “You said you’ve been trained. What weapons can you use?”
“Handguns, rifles, knives and ... probably staffs, but it’s been a long time since I used one.”
His brows arch up. “Any interest in being on the security team?”
“What would I be doing?”
“Training, defense of camp, security, perimeter checks.”
The snowfall is so thick now that even though he’s only a few feet away, I can hardly see him. I don’t like the idea of training all the time, though it would be good for me. Getting to leave camp, though ... I don’t think I can pass that up.
“Could I still do one day a week in the garden?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“We test everyone to help us place them in the right group. You don’t have to do that today, though.”
What better day than today? I’m still sore from fighting Vance off. It’s a reminder of how cutthroat this place is. I don’t know when I’ll see Marcelle and Virginia again, but I will. And when I do, I want to be as sharp as I can. Especially considering the edge aromium gives them.
“I’m ready.”
“You don’t—”
“You said that already. But I’m good. Let’s do it.”
With a nod, he leads me over to an area where two people are sparring, several others watching from nearby.
“Zara.”
The blond perks up immediately when he says her name. “Yes?”
“You’re gonna spar with Briar. Briar, you choose the weapons.”
He leads me over to a small wooden wall, which has wooden practice staffs, spears and knives. I take a knife.
“You can pick whatever weapon you want,” I tell Zara.
She ignores me and also grabs a practice knife. Marcus speaks into his radio and then tells the people in the sparring ring to finish up.
I size Zara up. She’s lithe, but fit. A few inches taller than me. The snow could work to my advantage. Or not.
It’s been a while since I sparred. Years. But as I take a few practice swings, my dad’s lessons come back to me. One of his most important lessons was never show your hand, so of course the swings are terrible. I’m not even holding the practice knife the right way.
Zara is smirking by the time we’re positioned across from each other, most everyone who was training in the ring now gathered around to watch us.
“This is over when I say it’s over,” Marcus says sternly. “You’re sparring, so no one gets seriously injured. Got it?”
“Yes, boss,” Zara says sweetly.
Kiss ass.
“Yeah, got it.” I don’t take my eyes off her.
“You’ve got this, Briar,” Amira says from somewhere.
“Go,” Marcus says.
Zara is crouching, light on her feet. I raise my right arm up like I’m going to strike with the practice knife, and she moves to block. I drop the knife as I drive the heel of my left hand into her solar plexus, the hit sending a jolt of pain from my wrist to my shoulder.