Fireblood (Fireblood 1)

I nod, and Devlan takes one of my hands out of Sebastian’s grasp. He stares at the red flesh. “I’ve worked with horses a long time,” he says, not looking up. “I know something that will keep them from blistering.” He drops my hand as he looks at Sebastian. “With your permission, of course, Your Highness”

“Of course, Devlan,” Sebastian says. “See that Zara is taken care of.” He looks at me. “The lessons can wait until you’ve healed.”

My lips parts. “I’m fine. Honestly. I wish to continue my lessons.” My voice sounds more pleading than I’d like.

Sebastian grunts, a low rumble in his throat. “It could end up causing an open wound and becoming infected.” He eyes me. “We’ll wait till you’re better.”

“Come, princess,” Devlan says before I can argue further. “The prince is right.”

My shoulders slump, and even though I want to ensure that I’ll be training on the morrow, I follow behind Devlan as he walks away. I won’t win this right now.

Once we’re outside the fence, Devlan closes the gate and waits patiently for me to walk ahead of him. This time, I do so without debate. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be a knight, but my complaints about being treated like a princess now feel petty, at least compared to what I’m sure he’s dealt with over the years on his own, here at Court.

“Where am I going?” I ask as I wander toward the castle.

He walks up beside me. “The training grounds. There are salves and ointments the knights use during training.” He points behind the castle and off to the left. “Your hands will callous over in time.”

I huff. “But not overnight.”

His head darts in my direction. “Nay. Not overnight, princess.” His gaze bores into me, and I nearly stumble as I lock eyes with him.

Regaining my balance, I return to watching the ground. I can feel that either the ride or the dismount has worked my dagger around toward the back of my thigh. I’m through with my lessons for the day, though. It shouldn’t cause me any bother.

We don’t talk again until we reach the green tent. It sits at the far end of the grounds, past makeshift risers and a two-foot high, bricked-in showground. He holds back the flap for me and I walk inside. Large metal weapon cases decorate the sides of the tent, and tables topped with swords and armor clutter the open area. I’ve never seen so many weapons. Ever. The fact that they’re not permitted in Karm, at least not in the hands of regular citizens, and they’re so abundant here, causes me to shudder.

“It’s overwhelming,” Devlan says. “I know. When I first saw the armory, I couldn’t believe all the weapons were right out in the open.”

I glance around. “How is it possible?”

He walks toward one of the metal sword racks and unlatches the keychain from inside his vest, then unlocks the door. After pulling out one of the heavy-looking swords, he walks back over to me. “Here.” He holds th

e blade out, aimed toward the ground. “Run your finger over the edge.”

I mock-laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Devlan’s lips turn up on one side. Gently taking one of my injured hands, he looks into my eyes. “Trust me.” He runs my finger along the blade’s edge.

“No,” I snap, but soon realize I’m not cut. I choke out a strained laugh. “It’s dull.”

“We’re not to train with actual swords.” He walks back to the metal case. “And these are used in the tournaments. Except for the last tourneys, when the stakes are raised.”

He rummages through a cabinet and stalks back over with a glass jar full of some clear, wiggly liquid. Setting it down on a large wooden table, he motions me over with a cock of his head.

“I can take care of it,” I tell him, reaching for the salve.

“No.” He takes my hands in his, guiding me toward a bucket below the table. I lower into a hunch as he dunks our hands in freezing water. “You have to cleanse first. But never with soap.” He turns his head to look over at me. “Soap will dry it out and cause the skin to tear.”

I flinch and try to ignore the stinging pain in my hands. As Devlan watches my face closely, his dark hair falls over one eye. I’m tempted to push it aside. He lifts my hands out and towels them off. I turn my hands palm up, waiting for the salve. Devlan only stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

He pats the table. “Hop up, princess.” When I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he explains, “So I can see your hands. Your stature makes it difficult to inspect them clearly in the dim light.”

My face flushes. “Is my height really that bothersome?” I step to the table, press my hands to the wood to lift myself up, and immediately wince.

“You’re going to have to work around your height limitations, princess.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the table.

I try to avoid his eyes, but his face is right before mine. He places his palms on the table, on either side of my legs, tilts his head, and studies me.