Page 148 of Starside

I suppose that’s what he thinks. Is that why he hides himself behind it? Is that why he hides at all?

“Can I see yours?” The question spills out of me before I can help it.

He tilts his head at me.

“Your sword,” I clarify.

He just stares at me, and my cheeks heat. It sounds so stupid. I’ve obviously seen his blade before. I just had it pressed against my fucking throat. But I’ve never been able to actually examine its details. “I work in a forge,” I try to explain. I shake my head. “Never mind, I—”

In a flash, he stands, unsheathes his weapon, then, carefully, warily, places it flat in his hands, holding it up for me to study.

I blink too many times, shocked. A moment later, curiosity has me scrambling to my feet. I’ve admired and hated this blade in equal measure for years. I’ve only ever seen it when it’s being used or standing proud in front of him.

But up close …

It’s magnificent. Its cross guard is made up of sharp pieces of shattered metal, expertly melded together. Its blade is long and broad, sparkling and smooth, perfectly straight, with a fine edge. It’s so big, it’s a wonder he can fight so effortlessly with it. My hands drift toward its steel.

“May I?” I ask, glancing up at him, only to find him staring down at me. Just when I think he’ll refuse, he nods.

My fingers lightly brush the metal, and Raker shudders.

With anger? With disgust that I’m touching his blade? I smooth my fingers down it, all the way to the hilt, studying the detail, taking it in, and all the while, Raker is tense and silent in front of me. I might be overstepping, but I curl my hand around the hilt, just to see what it feels like, not even able to get my fingers all the way around, and—

Just as fast as Raker drew his sword, he sheathes it.

“Now you know what a real sword feels like,” he bites out.

I glare at him. “I have a real sword.”

“Maybe. But forging weapons and even claiming them doesn’t mean anything if you can’t use them.”

“Then I guess I should get to work,” I say through my teeth. I don’t spare him a glance as I creep to the mouth of the cave we’ve settled in and cycle through the different positions he taught me. I won’t beg him to train me again—but that doesn’t mean I still don’t need training. My own knowledge is better than nothing.

Raker puts out the fire, leaving me just the moonlight. For once, I know his action isn’t out of malice. The flames are too much of a risk, knowing we’re being hunted. On horseback, they’re faster than us. They could catch up at any moment.

The storm is still raging. Rain reflects off my metal as I move my sword up and down, fighting an invisible opponent. I go through my memory of battling the split-skin immortals, repeating my motions, then changing them to be better. Envisioning myself in another duel.

I train until my muscles are sore. Only then do I creep past Raker. He’s facing the wall. But his breathing—it isn’t steady. If he’s awake, he doesn’t turn around.

Slowly, I lie down on the stone floor and stare up at hanging rock, sharpened into fangs. Each piece is just slightly glowing, with hidden crystal. Beautiful—with an edge. Just like our swords. Just like Starside.

His deep voice echoes through the cave. “Your footwork is sloppy.”

I roll my eyes. “Thank—”

“Your back foot. When you retreat, make sure it moves first.”

Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing that.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice losing some of its bite.

I go to bed turned toward the cave wall.

The thundering of a hundred hooves wakes me. The ground shakes. Rocks fall from the ceiling, stabbing into the stone floor, shattering.

They’ve found us.

How? We only had the fire lit for a few minutes. Maybe they haven’t found us at all. Maybe they’re just going into the mountains, like we are.