CHAPTER TWELVE

RONIN

The day was warm and sunny. Ivy’s bare feet silently moved over the cobblestone as she approached the practice yard. Ronin was sitting in the middle of the sand circle, his bamboo staff laid on his crossed legs as he waited for his newest student. His back was to Ivy, and she knew his eyes would be closed. She quietly made her way to him, staff in hand, trying to take small breaths through her nose. Ivy lifted the staff and sent it swinging at her trainer, but he ducked his head just in time. Ronin quickly sprang up and twirled around to face Ivy. He smiled slightly and bowed to her. “Now, you are ready.”

Ivy’s first impression of Ronin hadn’t been what she expected. The man seemed cold and distant, never speaking unless it was necessary. His dark, narrow eyes never gave away what he was thinking. She’d met Ronin the day after they arrived on Kame Island, just one week ago. He kept a small home outside the kingdom on a hillside, where no one bothered him. Ser Osmund had greeted the man warmly, and the two embraced. It had been over nineteen years since they last saw one another.

Ivy’s introduction didn’t receive the same reaction—he studied her as Ser Osmund told the knight of King Magnus’s wishes for his daughter. She almost thought Ronin would refuse her by the look on his face, but he reluctantly agreed to train her when Ser Osmund explained that it would only be for a few months.

A week ago, Ronin had told her to meet him in the practice yard at dawn, only to send her away. She came walking through the sand to where the knight sat in the circle, but when she came closer, he held up his hand to stop her. “I heard you coming. Go away and try again later,” he said without even standing to face her.

“But you told me to meet you here,” Ivy said, confused.

“When you can get close enough to take a swing without me hearing you, then we will train.”

“But—”

“Go away. Try again later.” Ronin dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Ivy stormed out of the yard, kicking sand as she went. It had taken over a week for Ivy to accomplish what Ronin asked, and now she could begin her training.

Ronin used his bamboo staff and had equipped Ivy with a practice sword earlier in the week, but she didn’t like using it. Ivy didn’t complain for fear of delaying her training even further. Ronin stood before her, burying his feet in the sand. “What have you learned this week?” he asked.

“To stay quiet—”

Ronin swung his staff so fast Ivy didn’t even see it until it smacked her upper arm. She dropped her sword to grab the spot where Ronin hit her.

“What the hell was that for?” she yelled at him.

He ignored her. “You have learned that loud ones are always the first to die.”

She stood up straight and repeated what Ronin said. He nodded and told her to pick up her sword. When Ivy reached for it, he struck her hand with the bamboo. She snapped up, clutching her hand to her chest. “You must be quicker and never take your eye off your opponent. Try again.”

Ivy was growing angry but tried not to show it. She bent down slowly, watching Ronin, and quickly snatched up her practice sword and held it out in front of her.

“Now, strike me,” Ronin commanded.

Ivy hesitated, and he struck her ankle with his bamboo. He put the staff behind his back and waited for her to approach. Ivy lunged, jabbing her sword at the man’s head and torso. He ducked and slid out of her path, just like Ser Osmund had told her. She lifted the sword above her head and sent it crashing down into the sand as he sidestepped around Ivy.

Ronin knocked her feet out from under her, sending Ivy crashing into the sand face first. Now she was angry.

Ivy stood and narrowed her eyes on him and tried again. She swung her sword in a fury, growing angrier when the only thing she hit was sand.

“Stop!” Ronin raised his voice. “Never fuel your fight with hate and anger. Try again.”

When Ivy made no move, he told her to sit down in the sand. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

Ivy did what he asked, still feeling the anger coursing through her veins. “Are you still angry?” he asked.

“No,” Ivy huffed.

“Liar.” He smacked her shoulder with his staff. “How about now?”

She winced at the pain and stayed silent.

“Go away. Come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ivy asked. “But we hardly did anything!”

“I think your bruises will say otherwise. Come back tomorrow when the anger has left you.”

Ronin walked away down the hill, retreating to his little home.

Ivy scooped up her sword and stormed off toward her room. Ser Osmund caught up with her in the hallway to ask how her training went. She told him what happened, but he brushed it off and said it was how Ronin did things. Ivy remembered Ser Osmund’s story about how hard Ronin used to be on her father when he was being trained.

When Ivy got back to her room, she took some healing balm and spread it over her sore shoulder and arm. Then she wrapped it tightly with a cloth to restrict her movement until it healed. A small woman had brought Ivy the healing cream during the week that she was learning to be silent. When she asked the woman what it was for, she only smiled and said, “You’ll see.”

Now she understood, and she was grateful for it. The balm felt cool on her skin as it worked its magic.

Later that day, Ivy grabbed her practice sword and went back to the yard. There were straw men in a shed off to the side of the yard used for archery practice, but Ivy dragged one out into the middle of the circle. She squared up on her straw opponent and started hacking at him with her wooden sword.

She danced around the man, trying to move her body as Ronin did. Ivy worked on holding her sword, being quicker with her swings, and dodging imaginary blows. She was beginning to feel tired when she felt a set of eyes watching her. The sun had started to dip and was now hidden behind the buildings. When she looked up, she saw the brown-haired boy standing on his balcony. He’d been watching her, but for how long she didn’t know. She only stared back until he smirked down at her and retreated inside his room.

The next day when Ivy woke, her arm was tight from the previous days beating, and getting dressed took some effort. She left her boots by the door and grabbed her wooden sword. When she came around the corner, she was surprised to see that Ronin wasn’t sitting in the sand waiting for her. He was sparring with the boy that had been watching Ivy yesterday. As she approached, they stopped, the boy eyeing her as she came closer.

“Lady Ivy,” Ronin beckoned her over. “Come meet your new partner.”

The boy snapped his head to Ronin, clearly angry. “What? You want me to fight with her?” Ronin nodded his head patiently. “Forget it. Do you think my skills are so bad that you’d pair me with her?”

Ivy’s cheeks burned with fury.

“She is the same age as you, Finn. It will be good training for both of you. I fear I won’t be able to teach Ivy everything in the few short months she has here, and I thought this would be better.”

Ivy stared daggers at the boy but stayed quiet.

“You two will be sparring partners, and I’ll guide you,” Ronin told them. “Ivy, this is Finn.”

Ivy didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed angry with her, though she had no part in this.

“Finn,” Ronin continued, “this is Lady Ivy, and she’s come a long way just as you once did.”

“I don’t see why I have—”

“This is how we’re doing it now!” Ronin interrupted Finn. “You can accept it or find another trainer.”

Finn formed his mouth in a tight line but eventually nodded his head in agreement.

The two squared up, waiting for Ronin’s command to begin. Finn was a little taller than Ivy, and she knew he was strong by the muscles that peeked out from the top of his tunic. When Ronin gave the command, the two came together in a crash. Finn shoved Ivy away, causing her to stumble in the sand. She was surprised by how quick he was, but didn’t let it rattle her.

Ivy crouched lower and charged, slicing her wooden sword across Finn’s stomach as she passed. When he turned, she expected anger to be painted on his face, but instead, the faintest smile showed.

Finn came at her and brought his sword down as she threw hers up to block the blow. He was stronger than Ivy was and forced the sword down, where it crashed into her injured shoulder. She winced, but he didn’t stop. He forced her back, Ivy parrying his attacks. Their swords crossed, and he pushed into her, leaning in close enough for Ivy to see a faint scar on his chin.

That moment of hesitation cost her, and Finn threw her back with such a force that Ivy’s sword went sailing, and she landed outside the sand circle on the cobblestone road.

Her shoulder smacked the stone walkway and sent a jolt of pain coursing through her. Ronin made no move to go check on her, but Finn came and bent down in front of Ivy.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Ivy growled as she reached for her sword and stood. She brushed past him back into the circle, but he grabbed for her arm. “I didn’t mean—”

Ivy twirled around and cracked her sword hard against his arm, forcing him to let go. Finn looked shocked and stepped away from her.

“Now, there’s a fighter!” Ronin chuckled. Ivy turned her back, and Finn followed her into the yard, holding his sore arm. “Go again,” Ronin ordered.

“Can you lift your arm?” Finn’s voice was warmer this time.

“It’s fine,” she snapped at him.

The two sparred like that for another hour until Ivy could no longer swing her sword. Her right shoulder was pounding, and it felt strange to her, but she kept quiet. Ronin ended the session, telling the two to meet him back there at first light tomorrow. Ivy retreated before either one of them could say anything to her. Ser Osmund was nowhere to be found; Ivy was sure he felt safe leaving her with Ronin and had gone to explore the island. The small woman, who Ivy learned later, was named Miko, brought her a tray of food just as the sun was setting. Ivy smiled and thanked the woman but didn’t touch the food. Instead, she called another serving woman and asked for a flagon of wine to be brought up. Ivy thought it might ease her pain some since the balm was no longer doing its job.

When the wine arrived, Ivy took the tray out onto the balcony and poured herself a cup. It tasted different from northern wines; this was much sweeter, and Ivy could taste all the different fruits in it. The yard was empty, and it was beginning to grow dark and chilly. Every balcony had a small brazier on it, so Ivy decided to make herself a small fire. She went to retrieve the blanket from her bed but struggled to get it over her shoulders, crying out in pain when she moved her shoulder.

“Ivy?” a voice called out from behind the wall of flowers. Ivy rolled her eyes and sighed as Finn poked his head around the wall.

“What do you want?” Ivy snapped. Before she could stop him, Finn hopped up onto the wall of the balcony and jumped the small distance over to hers. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

Finn threw up his hands as if to say he meant no harm and took the seat across from Ivy. She eyed him cautiously over the brim of her cup.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked, no hint of sarcasm in his voice this time.

“What do you care?”

“Because I’m the one that hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m not used to fighting with anyone besides Ronin or Kal.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, running his russet eyes to her shoulder before meeting hers again. “I know it hurts. Let me help you.”

“I told you it’s fine.”

He sighed and said, “I’m not going to hurt you. Please, let me help.”

Ivy stayed silent.

Finn sat back and sighed. “What will you tell Ronin tomorrow when you can’t lift your arm?”

Ivy stared at him, noticing how the fire caught flecks of red in his brown eyes. When he smiled, she lowered her eyes. “How can you help anyway?”

“My mother was a healer in my town. She taught me a few things when I was a child.”

Ivy nodded but didn’t ask where he was from, though she remembered Ronin saying Finn had come to Kame Island years ago. Finn stood, and when Ivy didn’t protest, he went over to her chair, leaning down.

“Let me look,” he said as he gently took the blanket from her shoulders. He knelt beside her chair and pulled her short sleeve up over her shoulder. Ivy turned her head away as tears burned in her eyes.

“It’s slightly dislocated,” Finn said, running his fingers over her skin. Ivy felt goosebumps crawling up her arm where his rough fingers touched her. “I can fix it. The bone isn’t completely out of the cavity. I need to push it back into place.”

Ivy took another swallow of wine and said, “Do it.”

Finn gently held her wrist with both hands and moved her arm out in front.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned her, looking her in the eye to make sure she was still alright. His calloused hand cupped hers, and he gently gave her arm a push. Pain tore through Ivy’s arm, kick-starting her heart.

“Stop!” she breathed, quickly gripping his hand as tears stung her eyes. “This isn’t going to work.”

He leaned in closer. “It’ll work. I need to push harder. Ready?”

Ivy let go of him and took a deep breath before he pushed again, this time with so much force that Ivy’s chair skidded back. She felt the pop, and a wave of pain crashed over her and then dispersed almost immediately. Ivy tried to lift her arm and found it moved much easier than earlier, though it was still sore. Finn stayed kneeling in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Thank you,” Ivy said. Finn inclined his head then got up to leave. As he stood on the wall, ready to jump back to his balcony, Ivy stopped him. “Where are you from?”

He turned around and gave her a small smile. “The North,” he answered before jumping back to his balcony and going inside.