“Your reflexes are improving,” she compliments me with a smile that is as narrow as her steely eyes.
I don’t wait for her to attack again. I move firstthis time, diving quick and low, aiming for her side. With a swift slice, I nick her chest plate.
“Aim lower next time. Get between the slats of armor and find flesh.”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll actually stab you?”
“Is that an insult?” Greer smirks.
“You just said I’m getting better.”
She spins. The movement is so smooth and fast, I barely have time to defend as her blade slices down. Throwing my arms up, I create an X with my daggers, catching her blade where they connect at the handles. The tip of her sword is an inch from my forehead.
“We can’t die here.” Greer pulls back. “The training ring is spelled so that any wounds will heal instantly. It will hurt like eternal Sarrow, but you’ll recover the moment the blade leaves your body.”
“But Wilder made it sound like I’d kill myself if I killed him during training.”
“Wilder is a liar.” Her eyebrow lifts. “Don’t trust anything he says, Elorie.”
I press my lips together, nodding.
Greer and I go a few more rounds. Each day, my back hits the dirt less than the last. But today, the exhaustion from last night’s attempt with the corpses has me tripping over myself.
Sweat trickles down my face. I grunt, fighting off the force of Greer’s attack to my left side. The sun is blinding with how it shimmers off the golden aura of the palace’s stone walls.
By the time she pauses for a break, I’m dripping from the effort.
“Long night?” Greer looks me over.
“I’m fine.” I try to brush her off.
“You’re not sleeping.” It’s not a question. “Your body needs proper rest if we’re going to get anywhere.”
“I know,” I grumble, not wanting to discuss my exhaustion or my nightmares.
The Ley Court might be lavish and comfortable, but I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since arriving. Between the memories of the prison seeping into every dream and my constant worry for those back home, it’s impossible to get good rest.
I lean against the wall, catching my breath as I stare up at the shimmering palace, and decide to change the subject. “How does light wielding work?”
Greer’s eyebrow lifts. “You’re unusually brave for a human. Asking about the magic of our king in his courtyard.”
“Am I not supposed to?”
A small smile creeps at the edges of her mouth. It’s a hint of amusement when Greer is rarely anything but cold. “What do you want to know?”
“Royals are powerful, aren’t they? Like King Malachi said, they bear the magic of their kingdom, which is why I need to be ready to take it on.”
“Royal magic is the strongest magic there is aside from the magic of the gods,” Greer confirms. “If they bother to get off their golden thrones to train it.”
“You just called the royal court lazy, and yet you say I’m the brave one?” I laugh.
Greer cracks a smile but doesn’t apologize for it. “The full depth of the king’s magic is only known to him—as it is with any Fae. But there are so few with the ability to wield light that not much is known about it.”
“What is known?”
Greer sheathes her sword and leans against the stone wall. There’s not a drop of sweat on her.
“Light wielders are dangerous. It’s not as simple as drawing the brightness of the sun into a room or blinding those they wish to. It’s rumored they can alter perception. Not just shine lightexternally, but within. Heightening emotion, influencing thought. Tampering with memories as far back as they go. While many magics can counteract others, it’s nearly impossible to cast shadows strong enough to block that of a light wielder.”