Strike.
The blow I had just landed would have been fatal to most, targeting the carotid artery on the dummy’s neck. A well-placed laceration there could produce lethal results, as the target would bleed out from the jugular quite rapidly.
Dodge.
Not that we were typically trained to use lethal force in the Elder Guard these days.
Lunge.
No, I had learned much of that elsewhere.
Strike.
I really, really had no right to be jealous, I reminded myself, breathing hard. For every person Arken had taken home over the last several months, I had probably taken home tenfold. This simmering envy was both unhealthy for me and unfair to her.
I wasn’t mad at her, though. I was mad athim. Not that that was any more rational, but for fucks sake. How are you going to take a woman like Arken to bed and not even fuck herwell?
I set my daggers to the side and began to align the striking dummies in a pattern I could weave between for additional agility training. Stealth scenarios required more than just raw strength or even skill with a blade—you needed strategy and speed. I also liked to train myself in hand-to-hand combat, for situations where I might be disarmed.
These drills in particular would’ve been better with a sparring partner, but I wasn’t about to subject anyone to the mood I was in. Instead, I was trying to sweat it out like a fever.
Arken had looked at me so incredulously when I’d suggested he didn’t perform that I think she was being genuine. She really didn’t think it was possible for sex to relieve her anxieties about the exams she’d be taking today.
If only it were possible for me to prove her wrong.
A bit presumptuous, don’t you think? It’s not like you even know what she likes in bed.
I didn’t. And it didn’t matter, I reminded myself. This was neither my problem, nor my concern. It wasn’t like the man had mistreated her—she seemed perfectly content with her evening. If that hadn’t been the case, I wasn’t sure that this Mason would still be breathing.
What? It was perfectly normal to be protective of your friends, and Arken had quickly become the best friend I’d ever had.
After training, I cleaned myself up, returning to my office to find a note from one of my informants—a woman who went by the pseudonym of “Holly.” Even I didn’t know her real name.
Meet me at Roshana’s. Room 3. Preferably before sunset.
— H
I had spent the better part of my afternoon training, so I swung by the coffers to procure payment for Holly’s information, whatever it may be, before I quickly made my way over to the Merchant’s Quarter.
This time of day, Roshana’s tavern was beginning to fill, so the flirty barmaid didn’t have much attention to spare for me. She simply nodded off towards the kitchens, where a number of private rooms were hidden in plain sight for those who wanted to partake in pleasures beyond food and drink. I had never indulged in such pleasures with Holly the way I had with Ro on one occasion—though I wasn’t entirely against the idea.
Hypocrite.
I nearly jolted at the invasive burst of self-loathing that had bubbled up, seemingly out of nowhere. I usually kept a better grip on such things, though the accusation wasn’t wrong. I had spent the day pissy about my best friend having some harmless fun in the sack, but here I was considering fucking one of my own informants?
Gods, I was an asshole.
I found the third door and knocked twice.
“Come in,” a sultry, throaty voice called out.
That certainly was Holly. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, promptly sealing it with Shadow. One of the many practical applications of my arcane abilities.
“Prompt as ever, Captain.”
“I figured I might as well come early. Wouldn’t want to eat up the time of your other clientele.”
“Hmm, you could always just join in so that I could charge them extra.”