Saving Neba

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈: Eagerness, Enthusiasm to Learn

Crypta and I did quite a lot of things today beginning by eight-right after I had breakfast with their family-with our training sessions. He was brutally strict today, I tell you.

Simply put, Crypta didn't care; I just had to get in shape.

I had successfully avoided having a conversation about the bandage around my legs. I made sure my joggers were long enough to cover my legs. It felt non-existent now, truly. I just had to wait till the mark would fade. Nilsa had said it would take a week.

Sweat was dripping down my forehead, sometimes touching my eyes so I had kept them shut. I was just finishing my last squat set while Crypta was standing there, watching me somewhat sadistically.

I blinked off that thought.

He threw me a wet towel and a bottle of water which I caught instinctively. I muttered a thanks, sat down and took a sip of the water. I then proceeded to calm my face with the wet towel, soaking up my sweat alongside.

"It's already a little after twelve, Emerald. Would you rather have lunch with our family? It begins in forty-five minutes." Crypta sat beside me, propelling both legs forward.

"I don't think I can wait. Plus, I'm sure my mum or Rowan left something."

"Aha, I wanted to talk about that," he reminded me and walked to his weapon ledge. He picked up a small long knife with a silver handle and grazed his finger along the blunt side. "Why did you leave your house that early? Not only did you miss school-"

"We could be on a holiday and you wouldn't know that," I defended immediately, not caring whether or not he took this as a serious issue. "I mean, aren't you happy to see my eagerness, enthusiasm to learn-?"

"Catch!"

"Huh?" I turned and the knife was swinging right at me, ready to slice my forehead. I pushed my head back, just as Crypta had thought me, and placed my left hand on the floor for support, never letting my gaze on the knife fall.

It was only a few inches from my face when I caught it; the tip of the knife was in between my thumb and index finger. "Crypta, what was that supposed to mean?" I yelled and flung the sharp object to the floor, watching it slide back to him.

There was a positive smile on his face. He bent to pick up the knife when it finally stopped at the rubber sole of his canvas shoe. "I taught you well."

"I could have been killed, Crypta." I stood up now and walked right to him. "What if, somehow, I didn't get it?"

"But you did." His face was cheerily and chivalrous, all at the same time handsome and annoying.

"You're not getting the point-"

"See the point is..." He dropped the knife back in place and turned my back so that I was resting against the wood of his ledge. He rested his right hand limply on my waist while his other hand went beside my head, against his ledge. "You did get it and you weren't killed. I wouldn't throw it if I didn't think you've learned so much and so well... from me. I trust you, isn't that what you want me to do?"

"What if I missed? What would happen then?"

His grip on my waist tightened, his eyes strictly taking in mine. "I'd never kill you or let you die, Emerald. When we'd be fighting and somehow a Zadio has you cornered, I'll know that all I have to do is to throw you an object, and I'll trust you to catch it and aim it right at your opponent, killing him. Then I'll tell you that I'm proud of you."

The thought of killing someone made me shudder. But not as much as Crypta's hand moving up, my shirt rising slightly to make way for his hand.

I watched my hand move up and rest against his chest as if pushing him away. Except, my hand rested on his well-sculpted pectoral muscles hidden behind his shirt. His fingers moved up slowly in a rhythmic pattern: up above my lower abdomen, right to my side, a little up again and there at the small of my back.