He scoops me into his arms and steps from the ledge. We drop off the side. My stomach tingles at the free-fall, and every muscle in my body clenches. Before I can even think to close my eyes or scream, we yank to a stop. Then we begin to slowly descend.
I look into his face. He’s wearing his knowing smile. I glare at him. This only makes his smile stretch.
When we reach the ground, he unhooks us, presses a button on a device that releases the cable from above, and reels in the cable as it falls. We run to the side of the castle where Fireblood awaits us, my heart in my throat the whole way. His plan is much better than my poor attempt at an escape. Much quicker, too.
Before I mount the horse, Devlan drapes me in a cloak. We ride hard toward the meadow. All of it couldn’t have taken more than five minutes. He’s good. When we reach the other side of the stone wall, I fall to the bank.
“Finally.” I take in a deep breath. “I was going mad.”
He tosses me a brown leather bag. “You did well. I’m impressed.” I look up at him, and he points to the woods before I can acknowledge or respond to his praise. “Go change.”
I glance down at the satchel. “All right…” I edge toward the darker part of the woods. The crickets shriek an anxious song, and the floor is coated with fog. I swallow down my heartbeat, which has lodged itself in my throat, quickly untie the leather bag, and empty its contents.
I hold up a pair of trousers and shake my head, but then look down at my dress. Whatever he has planned, I’m sure I don’t want to explain to Madity how I keep ruining all my gowns. I sigh and unlace the backing of my dress. I change into the pants—tight black pants—then fight my way into the tight black shirt, the cool air nipping at my bare skin. There’s just enough support for my lady parts, although the thin material leaves little to the imagination. I frown.
I emerge from behind a tree and hug my stomach tightly, my biceps just covering enough of my chest so I don’t feel as exposed. “I feel practically naked,” I say, squeezing my midsection. “I think you got my size wrong.”
Devlan turns around. He’s changed clothes also, and now wears a matching black shirt and pants. His muscled form is very apparent, and I focus instead on his face, which is shadowed, only one side partially illuminated by the moon, but I still see his eyes travel over my body. My face heats.
“It’s not too small,” he says. “You don’t want clothing getting in the way when you fight. And I can’t explain away a messed-up uniform.”
I nod, but then say, “I know you think I can do this, but look at me.” I fan my hand down my body. “I’m all of five foot and?
??and,” I stutter. “Well, all of five foot.” The extra two inches doesn’t add much at this point. I plant my hands on my hips.
He steps up to me. “Size is no matter.” He kicks my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, my breath whooshes out. “Once you learn how to block out the pain, and how to absorb blows, you won’t be scared when they come.”
I can’t believe he just did that. I slowly sit up and grab my aching back. “You bastard.”
“Yeah,” he remarks. And I can hear the change in his voice, the lilt of his words. He’s dropped his practiced formalities. “You’re not going to like me much during this. But it’s required. To harden you. Even before you came here as a princess, you were pampered.” He reaches down and takes my hand, then pulls me up. “I have to beat the spoiled princess out of you.” He sweeps my legs again.
“Damn it—”
“Well, I thought you knew it was coming.” He laughs. “You should’ve learned the first time.”
I glare up at him, striking through my previous mental note of apology for his bruise. He’s going to return the favor tenfold. And he has no right to accuse me of being spoiled! My father raised me anything but. “Just how am I supposed to block when you haven’t shown me.”
He squats beside me, balancing on the balls of his feet. “You know your body better than I do, princess.” His eyes scan over me. “Figure it out.”
I get to my feet, angrily dusting the earth off myself. “You know better than to call me that when we’re alone. You’re doing it to anger me.”
“And it’s working.” His eyes glint devilishly in the moonlight. “You need to get better control over your emotions. You’re far too easily vexed,” he spits the word mockingly.
I bite the inside of my lip, stopping myself from unleashing a slew of profanities at him. He’s purposely trying to get a rise out of me. Remembering how he trained me to ride, it doesn’t surprise as much as it annoys.
No matter his tactic, I know I need to be tougher, stronger—less breakable. I picture Hart’s face on the monitor, his beady, cold eyes, and latch onto the fire surging through my veins. “Fine,” I grind out. “Again.”
After hitting the ground so many times I lose count, I finally manage to evade one of his attacks.
Devlan stands before me, his arms laced over his chest. “Good.” He circles me. “Now learn to do that when your foe comes from behind.”
I hear his foot brush the ground and immediately jump backward and fall into him. His arm reaches around my shoulder and I go limp, dropping to the ground. I’ve discovered I’m not so much a fighter, but rather a rag doll. My skills seem to be floppiness and confusing him instead of trying to match his muscle, which I know I can’t do. He attempts to grab me, but I roll to the side.
“Damn.” He walks around and looks down at me, a tight smile crooking his lips. “That’s not bad.”
My chest inflates, and I jump to my feet. “Ha. I won’t be looking at you from the ground again.”
He rushes me and I panic. Waving my hands uselessly, I stumble back. He grasps me around the waist and hauls me into the air, my arms pinned to my side. His face is close to mine and he squints, studying my face to read my next move. I desperately want to own that ability. I turn my head away and kick, but he locks my feet between his thighs.