She pulled the cup from his hands, taking a long sip of blackstrap. She raised her eyes to his, regarding him for a long moment. His disgust was palpable.
She stared into the dark waters. “And what sort of person am I?”
“Soft.” He pivoted and strode away.
21
Fiona
The morning sunlight burned her eyes, and her head throbbed. Last night, in an attempt to purge her mind of violent thoughts, she’d downed two cups of blackstrap. It had worked, and she’d fallen into another dreamless sleep.
But now everything seemed bright and hazy, and she had a burning desire to stand on dry land. Instead, she would be training with Lir in the hot morning sun. On the bobbing ship. She chugged another glass of water, desperate to rehydrate.
Each recruit stood on the deck across from the mainsail. Rohan stood to her right, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and a few strings of black beads, his top hat dangling from a hand. To her left, Ives whistled nonchalantly, his blond curls unruffled.
Fiona watched as the Guardians strode across the deck, each gripping a sheathed cutlass. Lir wore a white embroidered shirt, and two brown leather straps crisscrossed over his black trousers. One of them held a second blade in a scabbard.
Pausing a few feet in front of Fiona, Lir bent low, hand on heart, in a bow that she could only assume was sarcastic. She returned the gesture.
Captain Nod, standing beside his hulking Russian trainee, held a sword above his head in one hand. “Today, you begin your training with swords. As much as some of you might enjoy the idea of running a blade through your fellow recruits, these are different. They’ve been treated with a charmed oil, and while you can hurt each other, they will not cause any lasting damage.”
He lowered his sword, drawing the blade along his arm. Wincing, he carved a deep gash. But as soon as he lifted the sword, the wound closed up, leaving only a faint white mark on his arm and a few drops of blood on the steel.
He grinned. “Let the fun begin.”
Fiona shielded her eyes and drained the last drops of water before tucking the cup away in a corner.
When she rose, Lir stood inches from her, leaning against the ledge. “I take it you’re feeling a bit rough.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He rested on his elbow, looking almost bored. “Do you have any idea how to wield a sword?”
She tightened her lips. It would be ridiculous to pretend that she did, but to admit this weakness would be to play right into Lir’s obnoxious assessment of her. “I took a self-defense class. I was very good at it.”
“So you have no idea.” He straightened, pulling the cutlass out of its sheath.
She squinted at the gleaming waves before turning to face him. “Why don’t you use guns?”
“We do, sometimes, but Nod is fond of tradition.” He pointed the cutlass at the mainmast.
“But what do you do with the swords? I mean, who do you fight?”
A sigh escaped him. “We’re pirates. We steal things. And we guard things. Are you ready, or are you going to keep stalling?”
The rolling of the ship was nauseating. “I’m just waiting for you to start.” Through his wide collar, she could see a few scars intermixed with the tattoos on his chest.
He lifted the blade. “Don’t think of it as just a point. Every part of this is a weapon.” He turned it over in his hand. “The hilt can be used to bludgeon someone, and the knuckle guard can be used to break a man’s nose. Since you don’t have physical strength on your side, you’ll need to find your opponent’s weakness and exploit it, however you can.”
He handed her the sword, and she glanced at the silver hilt, decorated with skulls. She gripped it, pointing it at the mainmast.
Lir moved behind her, and he pulled her left arm off the hilt. She felt an unwelcome thrill as his skin brushed hers. “One hand only. Lay your thumb along the side of the blade. Don’t grip it too tight, or it will be useless. It needs to pivot in your hand. Think of it as part of your body, something you can control as nimbly as if you were dancing.”
She shot a quick look at Ostap, the trained dancer. Standing on the port side, he was already flicking his blade like a natural. He had both brute strength and grace, and she stared as he knocked Rohan’s top hat off his head with the tip of his blade. With Godwin gone, she had a feeling Rohan would be the next target.
“Have I lost you?” snapped Lir.
“No.” She blinked, focusing on Lir as he talked her through the footwork, parries, and attacks. Her memory was her greatest asset, but while she could recall each of his instructions, coordinating the movements wasn’t as easy.
In the blazing sun, Lir made her practice the same moves over and over. As the day wore on, her sword arm began to ache. Her upper body wasn’t in as good shape as her legs.