I pulled to an abrupt halt. He had never used my name before. I waited as he came close, his hand lifting to pat Butter. He smiled at her soft nicker.
“That was a pretty song you were singing,” he said. “Where did you learn it?”
I paused. “My mother taught it to me.”
He nodded. “I liked hearing it today. I was… rather melancholy.”
I felt my brows rise and struggled to smooth my expression. Brother Gamut had asserted that Frostbloods are fully capable of feeling deeply, but I wasn’t used to thinking of Arcus as having feelings at all. Still, his confession at feeling melancholy was strangely disarming.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked, surprising myself. “My mother always said that sharing a problem halves the burden. Not that it ever took much prodding for me to share what I felt.”
His mouth pulled up on one side. “That doesn’t surprise me. No one is left in any doubt about how you feel.”
I waited for him to continue. When he said nothing more, I shrugged and lifted the reins to ride away.
“Brother Thistle tells me you’re making progress in your lessons,” Arcus said quickly, almost as if he didn’t want me to leave.
I made a dismissive sound. “Brother Thistle is very kind. And patient.” Once the words were out, I regretted them. I shouldn’t admit that my progress was slow. I wasn’t sure what Arcus would do if he decided I wasn’t worth his time. “I’ve mastered the smaller flames, though. I can pass fire from one hand to another without losing control of it. And my aim is improving.”
He nodded, stroking his hand over Butter’s neck. His hand was large and well shaped, with a sprinkling of dark hair and long, blunt-edged fingers. My attention was arrested to see how gentle he was with the animal.
He looked up at me. “You haven’t had your second lesson in swordplay.”
“One was enough, thank you.”
His chin came up and I felt, rather than saw, the look he leveled at me from the shadows of his hood. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“So much for the freedom you promised.”
“That’s if you complete your task.”
“If I survive it, you mean. And if I don’t drown in a fishpond first.”
He took a breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and exhaled. I derived a twisted satisfaction from testing his temper. It was good to know he had one. It meant he felt something, at least some of the time.
“As for that,” he said, clearing his throat, “I wasn’t the best teacher.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, some of my resentment fading. “No, you weren’t.” I let that hang in the air. “But perhaps I wasn’t the most willing of pupils, either.”
“I shouldn’t have laughed at you,” he said.
I remembered the way I kept slipping and bobbing back up. “I suppose I must have looked a sight.” I stared at him, wishing I could see more of his expression. I thought the corner of his mouth twitched up a little, but he managed to control it.
“I know you’re not keen to try again,” he said seriously. “But it’s important to know the basic maneuvers with a weapon. I ask that you trust me. This time I promise I won’t laugh if you make a mistake.”
I ask… I promise… Such phrases as I never expected to hear from the self-proclaimed block of ice.
I tilted my head. “Did Brother Thistle train you in the most effective methods of communicating with me?”
His head lifted and his lips curved. “He may have given me some advice.”
“And you took it?” My brows rose.
“I’m experimenting with it. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go back to my tried and true method.”
“By which you mean threats and orders.”
His smile widened.
I pretended to look thoughtful. “Then by all means, I must make sure you find this new method rewarding. When do we resume lessons?”
“Tomorrow morning, after you’re finished with Brother Thistle. Same place as before. If it pleases you.”
“I’ll wear ribbons in my hair if it’ll keep your tongue so civil.”
He grinned up at me for a moment before turning away. As he strode off, he hummed the song I’d been singing.
I blinked after him, feeling a strange fluttering in my stomach. Butter and I shook ourselves and continued our ride.
A sort of truce formed between Arcus and me.
Every day or two, he would give me another lesson in swordplay. I would do my best not to back into a bog or puddle, while he did his best not to yell at me or laugh when I tripped or lost my sword. I had little affinity for the lessons, though. The cold steel just felt so unnatural in my hand.
I said as much while Arcus and I walked back toward the abbey after a lesson.
“Don’t think of it as a cold piece of steel,” he said, touching my elbow and turning to face me. “Remember, it started out as liquid fire.”
“Liquid fire?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
“Have you ever been in a forge?”