Alistair shifted in his seat, glancing around the table uneasily.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked Ember.
“Yes,” she said.
They fell into an awkward silence as she ate her breakfast. When she pushed her plate away, Barrow stood up.
“If you’re finished, we should be on our way,” he said. “Come with me, my lady.”
Ember scrambled out of her chair, waved a brief good-bye to Alistair, and hurried after Barrow, whose long strides had already carried him out of the hall.
As she walked beside the tall warrior, she said, “If I am to serve you, my lord, it seems strange that you should address me so formally.”
“You would have me use your Christian name?” Barrow asked.
“My name is Ember,” she said. “And I would be called so, my lord.”
Barrow nodded. “Then do me the same courtesy.”
“But I am your servant,” she said.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I am your teacher, but you serve Conatus, not me. I have no desire for your deference. In battle we fight together, as companions.”
“Yes, Barrow,” she said, dropping her gaze as she blushed.
Ember heard his quiet laugh.
“Is my name so unpleasant?” he asked.
She kept her eyes away from his. “No, my l—Barrow.”
The heat in her cheeks flared. His name wasn’t the problem, but her sense of place remained uneasy. Barrow’s reputation and stern demeanor intimidated her. Keeping him distant felt safer than to think of herself as his companion. In the recesses of her mind, Ember knew she was trying to deny something else. A much more troubling feeling. When she was with Barrow, she wanted to study him, to learn everything about him. She didn’t want to indulge in a childish fascination with her mentor, but despite her intentions, Ember knew her gaze kept finding its way to Barrow’s face, hoping to meet his dark gray eyes.
Barrow suddenly spoke, and she looked away, embarrassed. “Tell me what you thought of your first revenant.”
She shuddered as it dawned on her that “first” implied there were more of those hideous things to come.
“I think the smell is the worst part,” Barrow continued. “Don’t you?”
When she looked at him, she thought he was about to laugh. It made his eyes light up like a storm cloud full of lightning.
“The worst part was that it seemed as though it wanted to eat me,” she said.
Barrow did laugh then. “It certainly did want to eat you. Revenants can only survive by eating the flesh of the living. You would have been a tender morsel indeed.”
“I’m flattered you think so.” Ember frowned at the comment, unsure if it could be taken as a compliment.
He caught the sharpness of her tone and his voice softened. “Have I offended you, Ember?”
She thought to hold her tongue, but words poured out unchecked. “I was thrown into that pit with no warning, given a weapon I didn’t know how to use.”
“You weren’t thrown,” Barrow said. “You walked in of your own volition. And you used the weapon ably.”
“It was cruel,” she said.
“It was necessary,” he told her. “Without the test we cannot determine if an initiate was truly called to our purpose.”
“You would have let me die,” she said. “I could have failed and filled that creature’s belly.”
“No,” Barrow said. “You were watched at all times. Had your life been in danger, you would have been saved. You fought well enough that we never had to intervene.”
“But if the test was to survive—”
“The test wasn’t of your fighting skills,” he said, “but of your mind and spirit. The true test was given by Father Michael, after you knew the truth of our work.”
“But what if the revenant had overpowered me?” she asked, startled by his words.
“It’s happened many times.” He shrugged. “We had to help Alistair escape from the hobgoblins loosed on him.”
Ember stopped mid-stride and Barrow wheeled around, watching her.
“He didn’t kill them?” she asked. This news was more than surprising. In all of her letters from Alistair he’d spoken only of adventure and triumph and never of struggles . . . or failure.
“No,” Barrow said. “But in his defense, hobgoblins are fast, deceptive, and don’t go for the kill. They’re playful creatures, more interested in maiming than murder. We intervened when one had Alistair pinned and the other was about to suck out his eyeballs.”
Ember clapped a hand over her mouth.
“So you see.” He walked toward her. “It isn’t a test of strength, but will. Now your training will begin. You’ll learn to use the weapons and skills required to best any evil you’re sent to face. Alistair would dispatch the foes that overcame him a year ago within minutes. As will you, soon enough.”
Beneath her hand, Ember’s mouth crinkled in a smile. Though she felt for her friend’s plight, she found it reassuring that in her first trial, she’d been more successful than Alistair.
“Come, Ember,” Barrow said. “Your day has only just begun.”
She balked, wondering what could be awaiting her. “Very well.”
“Have no fear.” Barrow was smiling at her. “I won’t ask you to face another creature today.”
“I—” Ember grimaced, worried she’d shown too much fear. Already she felt as though she should be ready to fight whenever asked, without doubt. Without hesitation. Barrow was watching her.
“I knew you’d do well,” he said, surprising her. “I can see you’re already anticipating the work ahead, the dangers. It suits you. From the moment I saw you in your father’s hall, it was clear you belong with us.” He took her shoulder in a light grasp before moving down the corridor.
Ember’s heart twisted beneath her ribs and stole her breath. Pushing aside the strange sensation, she followed Barrow through the manor and out into the courtyard. Her mouth was full of questions, but she bit her tongue. Better to let the answers come to her than to chase after them like an impatient child.
The chill of the day was shoved aside by the heat of the smithy. While their assistant stoked the fires, steadying the temperatures of the forges, craftsmen and craftswomen kept up a steady rhythm of pounding hammers. A chorus of clanging metal filled the air as shields and swords were born. The air shimmered with the power of the raging fires.