Traps, Tricks, and Beasts [Book 2 Complete][Fantasy, Adventure, Underdog]

“Lady Cirn?” asked the tired Seneschal.

Cirn stared down at the letter the Seneschal had just delivered, coming back to herself as her gaze lifted. Then her gaze dropped back to the greenling at her side.

The short woman was perfectly demure, two steps behind Cirn and in her shadow, her hands clasped and eyes lowered. Though she had offered to make her own way to the training grounds not ten minutes ago, Cirn was terrified that one second away from her would turn into Riverlands all over again.

The image of Athereon’s flayed skin and blue-tinged lips had her breath crystalizing.

The Seneschal seemed to understand immediately as she smiled warmly up at the taller woman. “I am headed to the training grounds. Would you mind lending me your servant as I go?”

Cirn’s brows snapped together with suspicion, but the woman had that same soft smile, corners of her eyes creasing slightly with warmth.

The Seneschal leaned in and murmured, “You may meet us there, my lady. But a few minutes to read the letter in private may be wise, no? We wouldn’t want your new friend to be late.”

This was true.

Cirn wavered on trusting the woman at all. Athereon herself had entrusted Berry to her, so she needed to do her duty first.

Her duty.

Her eyes fell back to the letter. Mutely, she nodded once, the action tight, sharp, and pained.

“Very well. By your leave, my lady.”

The Seneschal curtsied politely before smiling gently at Berry, urging her forward with a subtle hand motion. Berry, for her part, slipped from Cirn’s shadow to the Seneschal’s without single beat of hesitation, making Cirn’s heart sink a little more. She’d been hoping that, after their week together, the woman trusted her at least a little.

But alas.

And now…

Her eyes fell back to the letter written in Lord Prince Ranin’s handwriting. She knew what it was. Orders calling her back to his side.

And as the greenling disappeared around the corner, for the first time in her life, Cirn realized she didn’t want to go.

Squirt coughed as she hit the ground hard.

“Bout goes to Xinth!”

Wincing at the bruise she knew was forming, she shifted to sit up, surprised to see the hand offering to help her. Glancing up, she caught the genuinely warm expression on Xinth’s face.

Squirt’s expression flattened as she accepted the hand. She would have preferred being ignored, but she’d rather not risk offending the fey.

The elf merely helped her up and shot her a friendly wink before trotting back to the crowd of fey surrounding them.

“Well done, lass.” Instructor Hawke indicated for her to take a rest to the side. “Now, did you pay attention to her footwork?” While Squirt sipped on some water, he continued to lecture on what the other greenlings should learn from her example.

By the time she was done, he decided to move on to the lesson of the day.

“Now, I’ve got something in mind to teach you all something important about physical fitness.” He gestured to her. “Unlike the rest of you, a greenling cannot use magic to boost their physical traits.”

Her brow twitched. They could, but only roughly once a day if that, and they ran the risk of running out of magic and effectively stabbing themselves in the foot.

Running out of magic meant running out of energy, and overuse could cause negative effects on a fey, sometimes for hours, meaning it was rarely worth it.

“Many of you rely far too much on your magic for everything from sword drills to cleaning your nostrils. So, here’s what we’re going to do.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pair of cuffs. “Now I have it on good authority that very recently, a group of fey were captured and forced to wear these. Isn’t that right, lad?”

“It is as you say, Instructor Hawke.”

Squirt paused as she sipped from her waterskin, recognizing the voice. She scowled as the others gave way to one of the teens she had rescued only a few weeks back, one who had inadvertently almost gotten her killed because the dumbass first tried to escape and then got her roped into being a hostage as well.

Instructor Hawke tossed the cuffs, catching them in one hand with a somewhat evil grin. “Now. We’re going to have those same four bouts again, only this time, we’ll even the field. Lass, your opponents will don these baddies. We’ll see how well they do when they are forced to fight like a greenling.”

One of those in the crowd called out, “Not fair, she needs to wear them, too.”

Irked at the idiot that called it out, she put away her waterskin and trotted up to Instructor Hawke, holding her hand out for the bangles.

He shrugged. “As you wish, lass.” He handed her a pair as he handed another to the first of her opponents, continuing his impromptu lecture. “Now the reason I hadn’t put any on her should be made clear in just a moment.”

She slipped the bracelets on, then shook her hands to demonstrate that they didn’t change size.

Heath, her first opponent, put them on his wrists. Immediately they adjusted until they were tight bands on his arms. He grunted, his magic compressing and absorbed by the bands until they settled. He tried to unsheathe his sword, cursing as he must have gotten into the habit of instinctively enhancing his strength and speed to do so, and it took a second try before he was able to free his blade from the confines of his belt.

Instructor Hawke sauntered back to her. “Say, lass, I notice the bands did not change size for you.”

Her expression flattened.

“Why?” he asked with a shit eating grin.

She glared at him before biting out, “I’m too weak to register.”

He gestured broadly. “How do we know that pair aren’t just broken?”

Raising a brow, she pulled them off her wrists and bowed, politely intoning, “If you wish, you may confirm their status, my lord.”

“Excellent. Pelto, you’re the one who thought she needed to wear them, why don’t you come up here so we can demonstrate we didn’t just give her a faulty pair.”

Squirt ignored the drama happening before her, tuning out the instructor’s lecture as he made the ogre wear the bracelets, instead stretching out her muscles and preparing herself for another round of battles. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out another wakeberry, chewing on it while she waited.

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A few minutes later, Instructor Hawke had finished his performative song-and-dance about the bracelets, meaning the attention of everyone in the crowd returned to her and her first opponent, Heath. They took their stances. Already, she could tell Heath’s grip wasn’t nearly as stable as usual. Sweat beaded his brow in the hot autumn air.

“Begin.”

He lunged forward, the practiced motion much slower than previous bouts. She effortlessly dodged out of the way, irritated at how much easier this battle was. It really put into clarity what an uphill battle she fought every gods damn day when the man was so used to his enhancements he must have used them to wipe his own ass.

He only got two more attempted strikes in before she saw her opportunity, smashing his wrist with the handle of one blade to make him drop the weapon before stopping, her other blade pressed into his stomach and leaving a temporary mark on his clothes.

They each took their steps back and bowed to end the bout.

“Well done, lass! Now, Heath—tell us.”

Heath, good natured as he seemed to be, cheerfully gasped out a bright, “I guess I hadn’t realized how much of a crutch I’d made myself.”

“Exactly. Now. Let’s go again with her next opponent.”

To her increased irritation, each bout had her winning by a landslide. The third one lasted the longest, but only a minute in and the woman had sweat dripping down into her eyes, making the mistake of wiping it with the back of her arm mid-match, giving Squirt all the opportunity she needed to dart in close and gut her.

Gods damn it all. This wasn’t fucking fair.

Instructor Hawke bent down to clap her on the shoulder. “Well done, lass. Now, for the rest of you louts, we’re going to start implementing a new rule. Every day, you’re to train like a greenling, wearing these. As important as it is to exercise your magic, your physical fitness is equally important.

“Instructors, pair up your students with the greenlings. Today, greenlings, your lesson is in dodging. We’re making it easier for you by having your opponents wear these bands. Everwinter soldiers, your goal is to hit your opponent with controlled swings. You break a bone, and I’ll break yours. Got it?”

The soldiers saluted while the greenlings exchanged nervous glances. They’d been practicing in the same space for a week, but this was the first time the two groups would do drills together.

Squirt rolled her eyes, trotting forward and gathering up the greenlings into a huddle. In greenling, she addressed them. “Stick close to the instructors, practice dodging. Even if they do hit, I can promise you it hurts a whole lot less than a beating you’re forced to take.”

A male greenling teetered, one of his friends hitting his back causing a question to tumble out. “How did you do all of that?”

As soon as the words were out, he flushed, stammering, “I-I mean… you always make it look so easy.”

Squirt gave him an annoyed look, then gestured at the rest of the practice yard. “I practiced. I got hit. A lot. I worked fucking hard for it every minute I could. We’re greenlings. We’re no strangers to having to work twice as hard for half as much—just put that same work ethic into your practice and let me worry about shit like food, accommodations, and clothing.”

They all nodded, sharing nervous yet determined glances with each other as they did.

Jerking her chin, she dismissed them, and they began pairing up with the available fey.

Having a moment to breathe again, she backed up into the shadow of the wall, wishing she could just disappear. Exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, she stared blankly out at the crowd as they lined up to begin their drills.

A tendril of shadow came through the wall, wrapping around her hand in a simple hold. Such a tiny gesture.

For a moment, she almost ran. The urge to ask Zhadin to take her away was strong enough that she wavered.

Zhadin would take her anywhere.

Or would they?

The pest’s face appeared in her mind. The thought appeared with no other preamble. Just the notion that perhaps Zhadin only considered her special because of the compatibility they shared. Like the pest.

Had they made the choice? Or did they think the Whims had fated them?

For some reason, Qzi’s face sparked in her mind next. He had never once mentioned their compatibility. Just… her.

The realization was quiet in its strength. She didn’t need to be special. With Pakos’s silence, she began to suspect the reason the Hunt cared about her wasn’t because she was special at all, but because she was probably the first greenling to pray to Her in a long time. If any of the others here had been first, maybe Pakos would have been their hound. Her mark might have been theirs.

But watching their timid attempts to practice with larger fey, a tiny fire of hope bloomed in her chest that maybe, just maybe, she was special to Qzi because of who she was, and not just what he thought the gods had designed.

That thought sparked another, making her frown softly. “Zhadin?”

Their voice whispered by her ear. “Yes?”

“Where’s Qzi?” He hadn’t been there when she woke. Normally, she wouldn’t have thought twice, would have assumed he’d simply decided to go hunting instead of the blood vender, but after Zhadin was taken a few weeks ago...

“… I do not know.”

Fear gripped her heart. “Find him?”

“As you wish.”

She sighed, feeling their tendril slip from her hand back into the shadows. Then she straightened, slapping her cheeks to wake herself back up. Break time was over.

Marching out to one of the nearby pairs, she corrected with a whispered command in greenling, “Move your feet. Stop hesitating. Dive and commit, damnit.”

By the helpless expression on their face, she knew it was going to be a long fucking day.

Half an hour into practice, and even the fittest of the Guard were starting to flag energy wise. Meanwhile, the greenlings were still going strong. While the moves were new, Squirt was startled to realize that their base physical fitness was actually on par with the stronger fey.

It was aggravating and relieving all at once.

Instructor Hawke sent all the Guard members to go for a run around the keep with the bands on their arms, calling the greenlings over to try bows.

They’d spent the last week learning basic footwork and a few simple knife drills. It seemed they had shown to be satisfactory enough for Instructor Hawke to graduate them to bows. Squirt joined them, noting that there were none of the smaller bow variety on the tables, only shortbows.

As usual, he called on Squirt to demonstrate, though she didn’t see the point when they wouldn’t be able to even string the short bows.

She thought.

Until they tried it.

Most of the greenlings were not only able to string the short bows, but they were able to both draw and fire.

Never in her life had her diminutive size been more glaringly obvious.

For the rest, Instructor Hawke suggested her favorite stick, and so she then switched to helping them learn that. They would be using rocks instead of the powder bombs she used as she was already running low on her supplies again. Without being able to go out to the forest and resupply, what she had was what she had, and she was loathe to use it before the end of winter. Especially since some of the items, such as the paralytic powder, were no longer things she could gather. Not until spring.

Instructor Hawke finally called for a break for lunch as the last of the exhausted Guard made their way back from their run. While she clocked the usual low-level aggression of a couple outliers, the majority returned with eyes filled with respect for her.

It was enough to make her gag.

Between them and the constant awed glances from the greenlings every time she was called on to demonstrate something, she’d been having a general urge to stab someone she didn’t know what to do with.

Instructor Hawke gathered up the greenlings to take them to lunch. He’d taken quite the liking to escorting his newest “trainees” to the meal hall and back several times a day, acting like a duck herding her ducklings. If only he’d quack, too.

She caught Instructor Hawke’s eye, and he shot her a questioning glance, clearly debating whether he should wait for her or take the greenlings to lunch. She waved him off, popping another wakeberry in her mouth and mentally tallying up her supply. They would come into season soon, and she had already located a bunch in the forests around the keep.

After a week of constant escorts, she was going to try weening the greenlings off of her. They were already learning all the best ways through the keep, they had sufficiently made it clear to the fey in the castle, and generally, things were settling down again. Everyone had their place. An extra delivery of supplies from the queen had been sent yesterday, including expansion components. Soon they’d get to move out of the stables, and then the greenlings would truly be not her fucking problem anymore.

She hoped, anyway.

Stage two would be soon, where she would start introducing the greenlings to the Wylds. Once they were fully self-sufficient, she’d be able to disappear once. By that point, Qzi might be able to join her wandering amidst the feybeasts, ignored for being too small and weak for them to care.

The courtyard cleared out when a tendril touched her wrist, and the shadowfell Zhadin stepped from her shadow into their fey form.

She squinted. “Why do you look so gods damn gleeful?”

There was a touch of malice in their grin, their eyes just slightly too wide and making the otherwise playful expression off-putting. “He says he doesn’t want you to rescue him.”

Her expression hardened. “Explain.”

“His hat has been taken by two other redcaps. He seems to know them. They seem to know him. They are quite convinced he belongs to them as their plaything.”

That explained the glee and malice.

Squirt growled. “Let me guess—he’s being a stubborn idiot and needs a gods damned rescue?”

“Correct.”

Gods damned it all. She straightened and faced Zhadin. “Let’s go.”

They pulled her into the shadow of the wall, missing the hesitant and deflated expression of Cirn as she did.

***

Cirn’s hand was raised, having missed her opportunity to ask the huntress anything as she disappeared into the shadow with the fell. She heaved a sigh.

Perhaps this was as the gods intended.

Her eyes fell on the letter in her hands that she had been hoping to have Athereon read. If Athereon removed her orders to protect Berry, then Cirn’s problem would be solved.

At least, that was what she told herself.

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