Hours flowed like the water around the ship that Eira dutifully tracked with her senses. Days slipped by like their feet across the decks during drills. Before they knew it, a week had passed as
effortlessly as the wind between Cullen’s fingers.
Their time was divided three ways: training, working, sleeping. Moments were slotted between where they began to learn the names of the crew. Where wary, sidelong glances turned to small nods. Gruff grunts and shakes of heads became brief conversations.
The sun beat down on their shoulders as they practiced combat. Salt spray coated them as they manned ropes and mended the ship. Muscles that had languished on the river on the way to Ofok returned with company.
With each passing day, they found themselves not only more in tune with their abilities, but with each other. Eira learned Lavette and Varren’s rune spinning by the sounds of their bracelets clanking. Olivin, Alyss, and Noelle were already second nature and Yonlin didn’t take long to learn. Cullen…she knew his body better than anyone else’s.
Adela was always nearby. Even when she wasn’t actively running their drills, Eira could almost always feel her sharp eyes turned from across the deck. Her guidance, though short and brisk, was invaluable. Nights were spent together debating theory and practicing the most far-fetched plan to bring down Ulvarth Eira could imagine.
“Remember, it is not about power, but precision. Not about force, but control.” She punctuated the statement with a tap of her cane.
They ran drills until they were heaving over the side of the ship. They coiled ropes until their biceps screamed and hands were bloody from blisters ripping open—magical assistance forbidden for many tasks to “build character.” Yet, none of the struggle seemed to beat them down. They were all improving, little by little, day by day.
“Really come at me!” Noelle challenged. “I know you have more than that!”
Eira pulled back her hands and thrust them forward, and a spear of ice materialized that burst into steam the moment it met a shield of fire over Noelle’s palm. With a flick of her fingers, Noelle had tongues of flame raining over Eira’s shoulders. Which Eira deflected with a swipe of her hand and another hiss of fire and ice.
They went back and forth before rotating partners. Her muscles held a sweet ache from the intensity. Sweat trickled down her neck, but Eira ignored the encroaching fatigue and pushed her body to its limit as the golden light of sunset coated the deck.
She found herself face-to-face with Olivin. Eyes locked. A glint of mischief sparked through his cerulean gaze. Blood rushed through her ears as a crescent smile arced upon her lips. She summoned a sword of ice beneath her fingers and her blade met the one he held.
Every movement was swift and powerful. An electric current reverberated up her arm with each strike, coursing through her body, crackling in the air around them. As she parried and lunged, she couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way his muscles rippled underneath his sweat-soaked shirt. She hadn’t been the only one to find new strength over the past week of hard labor.
She spun, going for the determining blow, but he caught her hand. Her heart skipped a beat as they shared a breath, the intensity of his gaze nearly all-consuming. The moment held, longer than it should. Olivin drew a sharp inhale, as if he were about to say something, when another joined the fray.
Olivin released Eira as a gust of wind pommeled into him. Eira spun, having the benefit of knowing Cullen’s magic, her senses alerting her to the onslaught a second before it happened. Losing her footing in the dodge, she scrambled, recovering faster than Olivin and heading for Cullen.
Cullen wore a lazy smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes that told her he knew exactly what he was doing by interrupting their duel. But, rather than feeling petty, it seemed…playful? As if, with a stare, he held all the
confidence in the world that boldly said, That’s it, come to me as we both know you will. Amusement curled up within her and settled. What was wrong with her that she found this more delightful than frustrating? That his arrogance set her more ablaze than every time he had worked to accommodate her?
Eira lunged for him. Cullen caught her sword with his hand—the icy blade quivering against a pocket of air. His other hand grabbed her wrist as she went to attack.
“You look satisfied,” she hummed.
“How can I not be, when your eyes are on me, and me alone?” He tilted his head slightly, brows darting up. “I told you, Eira…” His voice dropped low, barely a whisper and only for her. “Love me. Hate me. So long as I am in your thoughts.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond before Olivin had recovered enough to join back in, not to be outdone. Eira and Cullen broke apart. The three of them circled, magic and weapons at the ready. The weight of everything unsaid nearly broke the air in two. The tension in their muscles broke first.
Their three-way duel was frantic. Chaotic. And, yet, somehow, they seemed to know just how to move between each other. Magic sparked, steel and ice and light clashed. The men moved with the prowess of two great predators and Eira wasn’t sure if they wanted more to consume each other, or claim her. Which only set her heart to racing even faster.
She was drawn to them both. Drawn to Cullen with a force that was indescribable and unshakable. He knew her. Every gaze felt as if it pierced straight through her clothes—straight through muscle and bone and into her very core.
The energy around Olivin was wholly different and yet equally undeniable. He was an enigma. Every time their shoulders brushed or bodies slammed into each other served as a reminder of just how much exploring there was left to do. How curious she was to find out how—if they could fit together.
She fought with all her might, emotions fueling each burst of power. They moved as if the end of this duel would hold the answer to the question none of them had dared to ask.
Finally, the three of them broke apart but didn’t immediately spring back together. Breaths labored. Bodies threatening to give out with every
tremble of their knees.
Olivin finally released his sword. It unraveled into strands of light, disappearing at the same time as Eira’s blade of ice. Cullen leaned heavily against the railing for support, his back bending over it as he stretched.
As their breathing calmed, silence fell over them. Eira became keenly aware that the others had left at some point, focusing on random tasks. Some probably belowdecks helping prepare food. Perhaps they, too, realized that this was a breaking point between the three of them and didn’t want to see who was going to emerge victorious, and who would be laid to rest on a battlefield of hearts.
Olivin was the first to recover. He stood a bit straighter, eyes darting between Eira and Cullen. With a few steps he closed the distance between them. Eira responded with her own movement. They all seemed to meet in the middle.
“I care for her, and if you—” Olivin spoke to Cullen, but the other man didn’t give him a chance to finish.
“It’s up to her.” Cullen shifted and turned the focus to Eira. “If your heart is his, then I will gladly step aside. As fun as that little duel was, and as much as I’d gladly do it again, I’m not here to play petty games.”
“Neither am I,” Eira said hastily, hoping her next words didn’t immediately contradict that. “But…I don’t know how I feel,” she admitted. “I know I care for you both, in different ways. But if you were to ask me to choose, right now, the answer is I don’t know.
“I’ve been so focused on surviving, keeping everyone safe, regaining my magic, learning all Adela has to teach, figuring out what’s next… My focus hasn’t been on sorting through matters of my heart.” Eira shook her head, glancing away. The brief shame of admitting it not just to herself, but to them, that she had been keeping them all in limbo, was almost too much. Yet, she forced her eyes back, anyway. They deserved that much. “I feel as though I’ve only just begun to get my footing enough again to start thinking about it. But I’m still learning who I am, and it wouldn’t be fair to choose either of you as I am.
“I don’t expect you to wait for me to decide, either,” she added hastily. The words were flowing freely, riding on the currents of relief at being finally said. “I’m not asking that. But I’m not going to force myself into a decision, nor fall on a whim. Who I choose—if I choose love again at all— is going to be on my terms.”
They both stared at her. Eira’s attention volleyed between them, searching for any indication of justified anger, or brokenhearted hurt. But she found neither. Instead, a slight but tender smile curled the edges of Cullen’s lips. Olivin’s eyes looked like those of a cat’s, staring down a challenging prey.
“That’s understandable,” Cullen said.
“Fine by me.” Olivin nodded. The two men shared a brief and tense look. Yet, throughout it, grins split their lips. “You know I’m not going to make this easy on you, don’t you?”
“I’m not going to fight you,” Cullen retorted. “Oh?”
“I don’t think I have to.” Cullen folded his arms.
Olivin tried to draw his height. Cullen didn’t bother attempting to rise to the measure, instead looking even more secure.
A disbelieving laugh escaped Eira. “You’re both…all right with this?” “It seems a bit unreasonable, if you ask me, to put you on the spot and
ask you to make this choice.” Olivin eased away from his posturing with Cullen. His expression shifted into something more sincere. “Especially when you have so much you’re sorting through.”
“No matter who you choose, or when you choose, I want you to be certain,” Cullen added. There was meaning layered underneath those words. I don’t want to rush into this again, he said without saying. Eira remembered what he’d said when they’d first spoken alone. I want to see if the man I am becoming will manage to earn your trust and your heart again.
“I do want to make one thing clear, however,” Olivin spoke. “Are there any rules?”
“Rules?” Eira echoed, confused, despite Cullen looking like he already grasped what Olivin was trying to say.
“Are we holding back?” Olivin cocked his head to the side, a lazy smirk gliding across his lips. “Or may we do whatever it takes—whatever feels right in a moment, to win your heart?”
Both of their eyes were on her, expectant. Eira swallowed thickly. They looked as if they wanted to devour her whole. A shiver glided through her. Part of her…wanted to let them.
“If we’re all on the same page, and are all right with it…I don’t know why we would hold back.” Eira’s voice dropped to little more than a
whisper. There was a warble brought on by a shameful surge of desire that coursed through her. Unbridled fantasies, unleashed by their permission— their enthusiasm—raced through her mind. Every thought more scandalous than the last of what they might do to win her heart. Of just how fun the process of discovery could be for them all when there were no more barriers or questions.
“Excellent.” Olivin shifted to face Cullen. “Then—”
Cullen stole his words before Olivin had the chance to finish. “May the best man win.”
Eira bit the insides of her cheeks, keeping herself from reminding them that whether she chose either—or neither—she was fairly certain she’d be the one on top.
