Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

Watching the brawl had been amusing to begin with, then difficult as Eden focused on each foot placement, hand strike, and twist. Frustration coursed through her because she couldn’t keep up with their movements. It was too dark, and her eyes couldn’t focus. Even with the day moon’s brighter glow, each lightning-fast or subtle movement was nearly lost on her.

Or it would’ve been. The moment Draven’s shirt was removed, his pale skin on display beneath the moonlight, she seemed to hyper-focus on him. How his muscles coiled, bunched, and flexed with each swipe or strike.

Eden’s cheeks warmed.

“My papa was not a fighter, not with weapons,” Eden offered to Tulok, who stood by her side. “He fought with his wisdom.” But perhaps if he’d known how to fight with a weapon, he’d still be alive.

He drew in a breath, weighing her words. “Wit is certainly a sharp tool, but there is nothing wrong with learning to defend yourself. Wit and defense have a place together.” Tulok gently nudged Eden with his elbow. “It looks like it’s your turn.”

Her turn. She lifted her hands to press her fingers to her mouth. Did Draven mean she was to spar with him? Eden glanced over her shoulder at Tulok, who took his fist and swung through the air. He winked at her, recalling how he’d enjoyed her flailing and swiping at Draven in Primis.

None of this boded well with her, but she had little choice.

Her shoulders lowered from her ears as she stepped forward, her hands dropping to her sides. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

The soft chattering of voices around them silenced as she took her place in front of Draven. She’d seen her fair share of bare chests in her lifetime but none that had inspired conflicting feelings in her like his did. Eden yearned to run her hands along the hard planes and wondered what they felt like as they tensed.

And he stood there, an impassive look on his face, as if she were another of his subjects he was patiently dealing with. It could’ve been worse, she reminded herself.

That thought was like a much-needed douse of cold water.

Draven cocked an eyebrow. “It is best to begin with the foundation of combat. Always remember to keep your core engaged,” he said as he brought a hand to his abdomen, then dragged it to his back. “Like with riding a horse. And you’ll want to keep your stance wide enough so you’ll not topple like a pine in the wind. Oaks are strong because their roots spread far, and it sturdies them.” Draven’s body, although lax, gave Eden the impression he could still pounce faster than she could blink. He moved gradually so she could watch how he placed his feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, muscles engaged.

She followed his lead, finding that she enjoyed his comparisons to nature. Was it because he knew she was fond of it and understood them?

“Your arms, like the limbs of a tree, will bend and block. Refrain from growing too rigid.”

“Because what doesn’t bend will break,” Eden finished.

Draven nodded, and for a moment, a faint sliver of surprise filtered into his gaze. “That is right.” He stepped in front of her, guiding her arms with a light pull. “Now, we will shuffle through some basic drills.”

Was Draven going to instruct her the entire time? It wasn’t as though she were complaining. He was being more than patient, and was an adequate tutor, but didn’t he have other matters to attend?

His fingers tapping on her elbow pulled Eden from her thoughts. And then, they began a slow start to a dance. At least, that was what it felt like. Slide forward, arm block, a duck, a squat, and move back into place.

It felt like they’d practiced for an eternity, but it finally became ingrained in Eden’s mind. She was panting, and sweat trickled down her temples, her neck and back.

“Now, let’s put it to use, shall we?” Draven’s tone was just above a friendly growl, but no laughter shone in his blue eyes.

He made it difficult to forget, especially in this state, that he was as much a predator as one of the wolves, and this was his element. Not Eden’s. But, with the building trust between them, she believed Draven wouldn’t test her if he didn’t think she was capable.

He stood in front of her this time, poised to advance, and Eden mentally chided herself for standing limply. I must look like a lost waif to him. She squared her stance, lifting her arms. Then, rather than waiting for Draven to make the first move, Eden launched forward, taking a wide swipe with her fist. He shoved it aside, causing her to step off balance.

Draven hardly relented, but he was still going easy on her. He struck out with his arm, far slower than he normally would, but Eden shoved it away.

His earlier lessons jumbled in her mind, but she recalled him speaking about cheating. How could she cheat? She had no weapon. Just her bare hands and the . . . ground.

Eden was nothing if not clever. She had no choice but to be, not when her mother was so strict, and it had forced her to become creative in how she went about things. How to lie, and in a way, manipulate. She was naive, but she was not dimwitted.

While Draven had been showing her several defensive moves, all of which she’d committed to memory, she’d stumbled on a rock jutting out. If she could maneuver Draven closer, she could use it to catch him off balance, in theory.

“Don’t give up. Continue as you were,” Draven coaxed her and slid forward, but Eden dodged out of the way, then circled around, forcing him to turn his back to the stone.

There was no way she could outmaneuver him. He was faster, taller, and had centuries of training. But Tulok was right . . . Wit had its place.

When Draven struck out again, Eden blocked it, twisting as she did, and it knocked her off balance and onto the ground with a thud. Her hands dug into the gravel, scratching away tender flesh.

Eden glanced up at him. Concern rumpled his brow, but his expression hardened, and a warning blared in her head. She was bleeding. The game was over, and with every ounce of strength she possessed, she kicked out at his leg, causing him to stumble back and over the rock. It was enough time for her to scramble to her knees. Somewhere, she could hear the wolves clamoring, but it happened in a blur.

Draven descended on her, grabbing her shoulder, but Eden was in flight mode, and she jerked her elbow back hard enough that when it connected with his jaw, she heard and felt it in her marrow. She wouldn’t be his meal.

He twisted her around, his fangs protruding as he shook his head, frowning—a truly pained look on his face. “Tulok!” he hissed, and already, the wolf was peeling his king away from Eden’s prone form. “Finish this,” Draven said, strained. Soon Captain Channon was by his side, too, escorting him away.

Tulok remained behind and he extended his hand to Eden, hauling her up. Although he wore a smile, tension oozed from him. “The elbow to the face may be my new favorite sight to see.” He leaned in closer. “Are you all right?”

Her heart pounded violently, threatening to send her to the ground again. She was alive, and Draven was a few yards away. “I . . . I suppose.”

“You got scratched, didn’t you?” His dark eyes searched her body over. “Your blood is like nectar to him. Even trained warriors will lose themselves to adrenaline, but mix instinct in with it . . . ” He shrugged. “The king will recover and be his cheerful self again in a moment. But you and I will finish what was started.” Tulok clapped his hands together and took a step backward, rolling his shoulders. “I commend you on your use of the stone and your quick thinking.” He wagged a finger in the air at her, grinning. “I don’t care what the captain thinks, you don’t have a penchant for death.”

It took a moment for his words to register. “What?” Her tone was a little more shrill than she cared for. “I don’t!” She glared off in the direction of Channon, who had, in fact, heard everything. He didn’t look apologetic, and only arched a brow as if challenging her to prove him wrong.

“Fine. Show me what to do if it wasn’t Draven and a pack of wolves watching me flounder.” Eden huffed, thrusting her hand in the air in annoyance.

“You can get frustrated, but try not to get angry. It clouds your thinking. And I will show you what to do in case it is Draven again.” Tulok didn’t smile or laugh; it was a simple fact.

The notion chilled her, but somewhere in her marrow, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Every creature had instincts, and what were Draven’s telling him? That a lesser being lay beneath him, fighting, and that he should act, no doubt.

Even as the adrenaline slid from her body, leaving her knees shaking, she was willing to prove herself, wanting to learn.

“Only a little longer. There is no point training you until you collapse.” Tulok demonstrated the same moves Draven had, motioning for her to repeat. He was facing her, so they mirrored one another, and it became a push and pull of movement.

For nearly an hour, Eden practiced, until she was entirely breathless and her sides ached. Somewhere amidst the tutoring, Draven had disappeared, only to return as she finished up.

He approached her wearing a clean shirt. “Eden.” He inclined his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Forgive me for that. I didn’t mean . . . ”

Eden lifted her hand, shaking her head. “No. Don’t apologize.” She was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sink into the depths of a steaming bath. But she’d gone over the scenario a multitude of times since it’d happened. It had frightened her, but she hadn’t been disgusted, hadn’t despised him for what he was in that moment.

Confusion knit his brows together. “Surely I must . . . ”

Eden flexed her fingers at her side, glancing over his face. He didn’t bear a mark where her elbow had connected with his face. “I would no sooner ask a lion to apologize for his urge to hunt. You frightened me, I won’t lie about that, but I don’t hold your actions against you.”

He folded his arms, and his expression softened a fraction, a pensive look pinching his features. “Very well. Thank you.” He subtly jerked his chin to the side. “You did well today. I suggest you venture inside and take advantage of the oversized tub. I’ll ensure Loriah fetches you balms for your muscles.” Draven inclined his head before he turned and walked away.

Eden released a breath and watched as the nightmare king disappeared from sight. Every time she was in his presence, a conflicting array of emotions rose, and it was growing difficult to sift through them all.

If she knew more of the king she was to spend her immortal life with, perhaps it would put an end to the questions, the uncertainty. Eden may not have known him well, but she knew enough of Draven to know he wasn’t going to sit her in front of the fire and discuss his life with her.

Flicking a strand of hair from her eyes, Eden followed the same path Draven took. A bath sounded good. Her muscles ached, and the cooling fabric against her skin left her chilled.

Maybe the heat would chase away the frisson of fear threatening to crawl down her spine, but the more she considered the feeling, the more she realized it wasn’t fear at all but excitement.