A Wicked Game [The Crown Saga II] (Under Editing)

An Air Wielder's Arsenal

"Where is your mind today, Willow?" Art asked, sending me to the floor with a breeze that shouldn't even have been able to throw me off balance.

"I'm sorry, Art," I said, reaching out to reclaim my staff. "I just— I don't know."

It had already been a few days since Caiden's confession in the Battle Arena. I'd been doing my best to avoid him, unsure how to confront him without thinking about his touch. He probably had a few reasonable questions for me too.

I hadn't been able to concentrate since, always thinking of that moment I rejected his kiss. I could still remember his warmth and how cold I'd felt afterward—how cold I still felt.

Art sighed. "I know you're not obligated to talk to me about what happens outside these walls, but if you need someone to talk to that isn't involved with the Crown Trials the same way your friends are, I won't mind lending you an ear," he said, offering me his hand to help me up.

Art had become more than simply a master to me; he'd become like a second father, but that didn't make it any less difficult for me to discuss these problems with him. He'd always be there for me—despite my flaws and mistakes—but Caiden was his nephew, and so was Tarkan. I couldn't possibly imagine what reaction my troubles would provoke.

"Thanks, Art," I said as he pulled me to my feet, "but I have to figure this out on my own."

I smiled to reassure him that everything was fine, fully knowing nothing was.

I'd known from the moment I stepped inside his studio this morning that Tarkan had been right. Informing Art of Tarkan's wicked schemes would undoubtedly complicate my training. I didn't need my master to go easy on me; in fact, I needed him to push me further beyond my limits so I could master my element and leave this cursed place as soon as possible.

"If that is your decision, I will not push you to reveal whatever may be bothering you. However, you know where to find me nonetheless," he said, twirling his staff in his hand to get a sense of its balance. "Clear your mind, Willow. This is your sanctuary from the Crown Trials, and I expect you to treat it so."

I stopped knocking the end of my staff against the floor to consider Art's words.

This place had been my sanctuary since the day Miss Naoise brought me here—the only place where I'd been able to focus solely on myself. Caiden had no place in here, and neither did Tarkan.

I sighed, drilling my nails into the skin of my palm as I squeezed my hand into a fist. The blood from my veins stained my nails, but the pain felt liberating.

My goal had been to gain control of my powers from the moment I was told to be part of this royal competition. That goal hadn't changed just because I could no longer make heads or tails of my emotions.

"I know," I admitted, turning back to face the old man. "We've come this far, and I'm not leaving until I've mastered every branch of my powers!"

Art observed my determined attitude with a smile as I challenged him to a rematch.

"Good. Then let's get started."

***

Salty drops of sweat poured down my cheeks, my brow glistening in the dim light.

Art hadn't been fighting me for hours, but he didn't appear weakened in any way. On the contrary, I could barely see a bead of sweat smudge his brow.

I gritted my teeth. Art was mocking me. He'd barely used more than one hand to fend off my attacks. No wind had emerged by his command either, yet I hadn't even come close to striking any of his weak spots.