Whirl (Ondine Quartet Book 1) (26 page)

Yeah, yeah, show-off.

I transferred all my indignation into my
eyes.

The playful arrogance faded from his face.
"Lesson one. Don't lose focus. It could cost you your life, sweet
iris."

He watched me with those disconcerting eyes a
moment longer, before releasing my wrists and standing up.

"Again."

His face went back to its usual mocking
expression and we continued our sparring exercises for another
hour.

By the time I left the Training Center to go
to my first class, every inch of my body ached. Julian offered to
take me to the clinic and I'd flipped him off.

When I began participating in martial arts
tournaments, my mother warned me that tougher, stronger opponents
would likely get in hard hits that I could neither block nor
counter. She taught me that it was simply a matter of endurance. If
I tolerated the pain and waited until the right opportunity
presented itself, then I would have my chance to strike. The hits
would hurt only if I let them.

Keeping that in mind, I pushed away my
current pain. As my muscles strengthened and adjusted, I wouldn't
have to live with it much longer.

But it sure was a bitch to walk to all my
classes that day.

Because Gabriel had forbidden me to observe
any more classes, I spent my afternoons focused on two goals. The
first was deciphering Nexa's words and figuring out how to improve
my magic. I was beginning to sense an energy that lay on a level
beneath my Virtue. But it taunted me, eluding every attempt I made
to tap into it. I worked on it for hours and usually just ended up
with a severe headache.

I once felt a slight tingling in my stomach,
almost like a burn. The sensation was different from the cool
fluidity I normally felt when using magic. It was like something
was beginning to crack open. But before I could grab ahold of it,
the energy disappeared in a flash and I'd been unable to access it
since.

The second thing I worked on was physical
conditioning. I ran every afternoon on the outdoor track, adding an
extra half-mile each day and taking all my frustration out on my
body. I put myself through brutally long runs, forcing my screaming
muscles to work harder and my lungs and brain to become
stronger.

Sometimes, I wasn't sure what I was really
running from.

Julian and I continued our morning sessions.
As promised, Gabe arranged for me to leave my dorm after curfew and
I practiced for several hours every night in the Training
Center.

I only saw Chloe, Aubrey, Ryder, and the
others during classes and meals. Ryder was especially disappointed
and constantly invited me to hang out. But I used my nightly
practice sessions as an excuse to avoid him.

I reassured myself that it was better for
them. They'd all be safer this way. Besides, I had so many other
things I had to prove. Everybody was watching, waiting for me to
screw up. And I was not going to give them what they wanted.

Sweating heavily, I worked on the new
offensive maneuvers Julian had taught me. He'd killed me this
morning with a lightening-fast defensive move in which he grabbed
my right bicep and tossed me halfway across the room. Eighteen
hours later, my arm was still aching.

I'd been in the mat room for two hours,
diligently going through katas before practicing some of the more
demanding moves. I tried to find the feeling Julian mentioned, the
instinct or emotion that would provide the energy for speed.

But just like my magic sessions, it eluded
me. I was getting to the point where I wanted to scream in
frustration.

I propelled my legs up off the mat in quick
succession, increasing my momentum as I spun in a large circular
motion to execute a butterfly kick.

As my body turned in the air, I knew my form
was textbook perfect. But I was still too slow.

Come on. Come on.

Faster.

A second passed. I landed on the mat.

Dropping to one knee, I willed myself to get
my howling emotions under control.

"You're pushing yourself too hard." Tristan's
gentle voice filled the room, washing over me like rich silk. My
chest tightened. It'd been days since I'd seen him and I'd missed
him more than I should.

Keeping my back to him, I stood and walked
over to grab my towel. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored
it, just as I had for the past week.

"I have a lot to learn. A lot to catch up
on," I said evenly. I took a long drink of water, still not looking
at him.

"Kendra." There was a tone of warning in his
voice.

I began putting everything back into my gym
bag.

"Kendra." He was right behind me, his voice
now unyielding. Reluctant, I turned around.

Looking at him felt like that first drink of
water after spending days in the desert. His dark hair was swept
back and his
pedaillon
gleamed against the hollow of his
neck.

He studied my face, lingering on the dark
circles under my eyes. I was suddenly aware that I was sweating
like crazy and probably pale.

I also felt a ridiculous urge to run my
fingers through his hair.

"You need to sit down."

What I need is to get out of here because I
turn into an idiot around you.

"I'm fine," I said lightly, turning to grab
my bag. His hand shot out and held my wrist.

"Sit down." His voice was hard,
uncompromising.

I hesitated, but soon complied. I settled
down on the mat, leaning against the wall of mirrors behind me. He
was right. I was exhausted and dizzy.

"How's your training going?" He sat next to
me.

"All right, I guess. I've been trying to
improve my speed."

"Julian's very good, one of the best. I'm
sure he'll teach you a lot."

I shrugged. "He says I'm not tapping into my
instincts and emotions enough."

"That's because they're the essence of magic.
Based on what you told us about Naida, he's teaching you to be
faster through the use of that energy."

"But you said I was
too
emotional.
That I wasn't ready to be a chevalier because I lacked control." My
voice was accusing. It still hurt that he thought I wasn't
ready.

Tristan sighed. "What I said was your raw
emotional strength made you a powerful ondine." He gave me a hard
look. "Speed comes in many ways, Kendra. Battling Aquidae takes the
ability to separate yourself. It requires distance and
objectivity."

"Are you saying I can't do that?"

"No, I'm saying that developing those
qualities takes time and experience." He paused. "When you fought
the Aquidae in San Aurelio, what do you remember seeing?"

I recalled that night, reconstructing it in
my head.

"Three Aquidae approached me from the east.
They pushed me further west, confining me within the alley. The
space was between two older buildings, both with no fire escapes.
The south building was four stories high, and the north was five
stories. The end of the alley was blocked off by the back of a
concrete structure. All three sides had no windows or doors. The
only way out was the entrance which they'd blocked."

I stopped to catch my breath. How had I
allowed Aquidae to corner me into such a confined area?

"They were in triangle attack formation. All
three were approximately between twenty to twenty-two years of age.
The one on point was six-one, six-two. Light brown hair, carefully
styled. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Thin. Dressed in a navy blue, San
Aurelio University T-shirt and light-colored jeans. Possibly a
college student. Raspy voice, probably a chain-smoker. The one
behind him on the right was around five-eight. Muscular, like a
linebacker. Short, strawberry-blonde hair in a crew-cut. Pasty
skin, a few freckles. Possible Irish heritage. Wearing black shirt,
dark green jacket, brown corduroys. The last one had
shoulder-length black hair, tied back into a ponytail. Five-nine,
very muscular, though less beefiness than the Irish guy. With his
features and dark skin, probably Native American. Tan, long-sleeved
button down shirt with black pants and loafers. Possibly employed
full-time and not a student."

This was part of the training I'd studied
under Kato-
sensei
, an ex-marine in Houston. While attending
his
dojo
, he taught me the importance of understanding the
enemy. Gathering information came in multiple ways, and I spent
years using my heightened eyesight to note details others would
miss and training my memory to recall it.

Tristan nodded. "How long were you
there?"

"Before you showed up? Maybe two
minutes."

"And I assume you also remember how they
moved when they attacked. Their fighting style."

Did he think I was an amateur?

"Of course."

A strange expression crossed his face. It
almost looked like admiration. "Good. Very good."

A warm feeling flooded my chest. It was the
first time he praised me.

"Although your tactical analysis of the
location is excellent," he continued, "your faulty interpretation
of the Aquidae shows that you're still not ready for combat."

"What?" I said, shocked. "But I remembered
everything —"

"What you saw were humans," Tristan
interrupted. "You saw their outer appearance. Made logical
assumptions of who they were based upon it. You studied their
moves, their behavior."

He shook his head. "These are effective
techniques if you were fighting in the human world. They would also
be useful skills if you worked surveillance, or provided
information as a witness. But it doesn't work in combat. It doesn't
work for a chevalier." His eyes were still hard, but a hint of
compassion gleamed in them. "Regardless of what they looked like,
they weren't human. They're demons who have no soul, no emotions,
no sense of what is right or wrong."

And just like that, everything fell into
place. What Tristan had said about distance and objectivity was not
the opposite of what Julian was teaching. It was just two different
ways of approaching the same goal.

Part of my slowness came from those few,
precious milliseconds I used to process and treat those demons as
humans. Figuring out their backgrounds, jobs, and likely weaknesses
was a hesitation that gave them an advantage.

Just as Julian had pointed out, I was
thinking too much before I acted. And Tristan had known that. He
wanted me to take a step back and find the control to ignore things
that only slowed me down.

And then I understood something else about
him.

"There was someone you knew."

He didn't answer, but I knew I was right.
It'd been there the entire time and I wondered why I'd never picked
up on it. The way he distanced himself from others. That
extraordinary speed and detached efficiency when he staked
Aquidae.

"My brother," he said quietly. "My older
brother, Eric, heir to the throne. He was one of the greatest
warriors I'd ever seen. I grew up in awe of him, admired him."

His eyes were unfocused, lost in the memory
of another time and place.

"Eric's strength and position as Crown Prince
made him an irresistible asset to the Aquidae. He was forcibly
turned and as second-in-line to the throne, my father sent me to
deal with him." A bitter edge entered his voice. "As an Aquidae,
Eric was stronger than ever. He posed a significant threat to water
elementals and I was responsible for stopping him."

The stories Cam and Ryder told about the
legendary Warrior Prince no longer seemed so glorious or
awe-inspiring. To have to kill his own brother, someone he loved
and admired…

Suddenly I felt pain. Not mine, but his.

Without thinking twice, I leaned forward and
hugged him as tight as I could.

"I'm sorry." My words sounded small and
insignificant, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Tristan stiffened, clearly caught by
surprise. It was nothing compared to how surprised I was. I was
probably going to kick myself over this later. But at the moment,
there was nothing more I wanted to do than take in part of his pain
and ease the grief he always hid behind his royal mask.

After a few seconds, he relaxed and his arms
wrapped around me, gently resting on my back. I thought it was
impossible to feel anything beyond the amazing warmth his eyes
generated when they looked at me. But now I knew different. With
his arms around my waist, a flame leapt to life inside me.

What the hell are you doing?

"It was a long time ago." His voice murmured
near my ear, lips moving against my hair. "Once he turned, Eric was
no longer my brother, the selkie I knew and loved. He was a demon.
I had to remember that to stake him."

He pulled slightly away, but his hands
remained on the small of my back. "I never doubted you. I wanted
you to be better prepared than I was."

His dark, dark eyes were full of an emotion
that made me ache. And
God
, he always smelled so good.

This was getting dangerous. I knew I should
pull away.

But I couldn't seem to make my body move.
Years of training sent warning signals to my brain, alerting me
that I was asking for trouble. But there was another voice in my
head insisting that I was where I needed to be — in Tristan's
arms.

I've never been shy with guys. But there was
something about Tristan that made my head spin, that made me want
and need in a way I'd never felt before. My eyes dropped to his
finely shaped lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Just the thought alone was enough to make me dizzy all over
again.

"When I saw you fall outside the club —" he
murmured. He lifted one of his hands and with one finger, carefully
touched my forehead where the gash had been. His finger slowly
moved down the side of my face, brushed against a lock of hair, and
trailed down my cheek.