Children Of The Sky (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 2)

Chapter 31

Steel sung when it sliced the air, but Ely found the song of his body's effort more satisfying when he practiced hand-to-hand combat. It left him with more bruises, certainly, and he ended up on his backside in the sand more often, but it wore him out in all the best ways. His lungs felt clearer afterwards; so did his head.

His concussion had kept him from training for a good week and a half, and as a result, Darcy had him pinned on the ground within the first minute when they resumed. Gods, he'd gotten rusty. He'd gotten so he was able to knock her down with moderate consistency before, aided by his training prior to Agnir's...intrusion.

Darcy pulled him to his feet, and they circled, stances defensive, eyes locked. She smirked at him over her wrapped hands--he blinked--and she struck like a snake, landing a kick to his side that nearly drove him to his knees. He had just enough muscle-memory down to catch her ankle and pull, and she landed on her back in the sand with a grunt.

"Good," she said breathlessly. Rolling into a crouch before he could pounce when he let her go, she licked the sweat off her upper lip and prowled out of his reach while she put her hair back up in the ponytail it'd come out of. Her eyes were bright, sharp, distracting. Maybe that was his problem; he was distracted.

Shaking out his limbs and bouncing on the balls of his feet, he dropped into stance again as she stepped back into the imaginary ring.

Ely moved first this time, aiming low, trying to catch her off guard with a false hit. It worked, somehow, and they both ended up in the sand in a tangle of limbs, trying to get the advantage. Darcy threw a handful of sand in his eyes, and he coughed, scrambling back and blinking. A kick to his chest left him on his back, and he felt the hot, sweaty skin of Darcy's forearm pressing on his throat before he saw her face smiling smugly down at him.

"Not bad," she said, getting up and sprinkling more sand on his stomach, "but try and pay attention to your environment. It's as much a tool in a fight as your body is."

They sparred like that for the remainder of the afternoon, and he eventually warmed up enough that they were more evenly matched. When it came time to wash for dinner, they both walked out with equal bruising and dust-marks on the backs of their clothing.

Ely had scarcely shut his door that night when he saw the note on his bed--and the package. It was wrapped in leather, and when he untied the strings and opened it, he found thick, flexible fabric the color of shadows.

Your suit for tonight and any future assignments, the note read. There's rumor that your target will be around the temple. Follow him, but do not engage. Come back quietly.

Tensing his jaw, Ely glanced up at the balcony doors, remembering that he was on the second floor, and was suddenly glad for the climbing practice that was required of him.

"So much for a good night's rest," he muttered, stripping off his shirt.

The sky was heavy with clouds when he crept out into the city, hood up to cover his pale hair, and the humidity made his body sticky inside the smooth shell of armor-like clothing he wore. He'd strapped a folding staff to his back in case he needed it--his last run-in had taught him that much.

The temple wasn't far from the Eldin house, not more than three blocks. Ely made it there within a few minutes, employing skills he'd learned from the smugglers to move about unseen.

The temple was easily the tallest building in the city, a great cylindrical tower with more storeys than he'd ever bothered to count. The candles at the arched doorway were lit, reflecting in the guards' polished armor--he avoided going by that way--but only a few of the many windows in the tower itself were lit.