Ian saluted me with two fingers and followed Aiden up the staircase, the dog obediently trotting at the boy’s heels as they took a right down the west wing, presumably to his room. As I stared after them, I felt a prickle of awareness and turned to meet Gage’s cerulean gaze. I stilled at his brooding look, then caught his glance at my upper arm, at the place Ian had touched.
He raised his eyes again to mine, the cold mask firmly back in place. “The holiday’s over,” he barked. “Samhain is in eleven months. Training begins now.”
7
Brydie
My first training session was grueling. Gage had pressed me for hours yesterday, pushing me well into the night.
“Training starts with the physical,” he had said. “If you aren’t fit, you can’t fight. If you can’t fight, you can’t stand your ground. And if you can’t stand your ground, you’ll never have a chance to execute magic.”
Before Gage dragged me outside, I dropped my bag into the room McKenzie had prepared for me.
The lawn area behind the Estate was the size of a professional football field, the grass green and lush, and trimmed to perfection. At the far edge of the lawn hulked the forest, full of pine trees and dense bush. The trees stretched well into the distance, falling just short of the proud snow-capped peak of Ben Macdui. The air felt sharp and fresh.
On each side of the expansive lawn area were generous blocks of manicured gardens. As I followed Gage around the lawn, looping countless circles at a fast-clipped pace, I had ample opportunity to peruse the gardens. They were stunning. Fountains tinkled silkily on the crisp breeze while tall specimen trees were carved into various figures, trimmed to perfection. I’d spotted a fox, a deer, birds in flight, fish, and even a hare. Paving stones had been neatly laid into the ground, creating a series of pathways around each tree. It was beautifully whimsical.
The view of the gardens was my only distraction during my first training session. Gage pushed me relentlessly. I lost count how many times I ran around the lawn before I came to a sudden halt, breath heaving in my chest.
“That’s enough!” I gasped as Gage immediately came to a stop beside me. He wasn’t even winded. “I need to rest.”
His voice was firm. “No. You’ve got a few more rounds yet. Keep going.”
I stared at him, desperately drawing in huge gulps of air as black spots danced behind my eyes. “I can’t,” I panted. “I’m done.”
He snarled. “It’s enough when I say you’ve had enough. Move it!”
Before I had a chance to tell him to shove it up his ass, I began to retch.
He stood there, watching me silently as I vomited on the grass, not making any move to help. When I’d finally emptied my stomach, he barked sharply, “Grab some water. We begin again in five.”
I lifted my head to gape at him. Was he for real?
He ignored me, turning to walk to the other side of the lawn under the shadow of the pine trees—a shadow among shadows. On wobbly legs, I walked over to my water bottle, which lay next to one of the benches on the edge of the lawn in front of the Estate. I sipped water slowly, steadfastly keeping my gaze averted from the woods. It was a wasted effort, for I could feel his eyes boring into my back. He’d given me space but not privacy.
I cursed him darkly under my breath.
Five minutes later, Gage strode over. “Time’s up. On your feet,” he barked. “Follow me.”
I silently screamed at him. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I knew that would only aggravate him further. Instead, I lowered my bottle to the ground and stood up, muscles screaming in agony. My body ached with each step to the middle of the lawn. I turned to face Gage.
“Arms up,” he ordered, raising his arms to chest height, fists clenched as he took up a fighting stance.
I blinked, realization dawning that training meant fighting. A tendril of fear snaked down my spine. I was no fighter.
His eyes glinted with a challenge. “Move it. Now!”
I snarled at him, angered at the way he bullied me. But instead of arguing, I honed that anger, wrapping it tightly inside my chest. I raised my hands in a similar stance to his own. Maybe I’d get lucky and land a few shots.
He raised a brow as if he’d heard my silent thoughts, then proceeded to walk around me, pulling my elbows in and nudging my legs farther apart. “Keep your feet braced, shoulder-width apart. Chin up!”
Biting back a retort, I followed his commands.
“Good.” Coming back to stand in front of me, he reassumed his stance. “Now attack me. Show me what you’ve got.”
I hesitated, balancing on the balls of my feet. Up to this point, I didn’t think he was serious—that we were actually going to fight. However, that thought was short-lived as he threw a jab at my abdomen.
“Ooo!” I doubled over, clutching my stomach. Raising my head, I screamed at him, “What the hell was that?”
He ignored my outburst. “Arms up!” he snapped. “Be ready.”
Before I could take a breath, he lashed out again, aiming a kick to my right shin. I cried out at the excruciating impact, stumbling a few steps back, just managing to stay upright. My shin throbbed in agony. Gage stood there unmoved, stoic and emotionless, waiting to take up a fighting stance again.
I couldn’t control it any longer; my anger erupted, a roaring avalanche of fear and confusion. “You never told me you get kicks out of beating up women!”
His upper lip curled. “Words won’t help you win a fight, Brydie. Try again.”
I snarled. He was a bastard. I raised my arms but took a step back. “Why are we even fighting? I thought you were meant to train me in magic.”
His eyes glittered with contempt. “I told you earlier—all fights start with the physical. Most of your enemies have magic, but there are many who don’t. They’ll use whatever weapons they have. Physical strength is one of them.” His eyes traveled up my form. “You’re small and weak, easily overcome. They’ll keep it simple—beat you, drug you, kill you, rape you—it matters not. If you don’t improve your chances, they’ll win easily every time it comes down to a physical fight. Now stop moaning and be ready!”
A chill slid down the back of my neck. His comment was a punch in the gut, more vicious than any physical blow, a clear reminder that this wasn’t a game. This was real, and it was time to stop being a stupid, naive little girl. Swallowing that bitter pill, I bit down my next retort and gave him a short nod.
His features flickered in what appeared to be surprise, but before I had time to consider that, he ordered brusquely again, “Arms up!”
I raised my fists, clenching them tightly. They were clammy with sweat and I fought the nerves, fought the panic. He won’t hurt me that badly, he’ll go easy on me.
“Be ready!”
That was the only warning I got before his right fist jabbed in a flying blur of motion. It hit me flush on the nose. Pain blossomed like a red-hot poker; my eyes blurred with tears. I immediately doubled over, one hand clutching at my nose. Blood, hot and sticky, streamed between my fingers, splattering the grass below.
“You bastard!” I gasped out, choking on the blood running down my throat. “You punched me in the nose!”
“It’s not broken,” he responded mildly. “Your enemies will give you no mercy. If Talorgan were standing in front of you, he wouldn’t help; he’d take full advantage.” Gage knelt on one knee, bringing his face close to mine. My heart stilled at the ice in his blue eyes. “And you’d already be dead.”