The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 10: Two Swords

On the ride to the Coupling, disparate images and words crashed over me like waves at sea. With each inhale, I clawed toward the shoreline. With each exhale, the undertow dragged me back in.

Honey's tear-streaked smile. I couldn't be happier.

The King's dimpled cheek. I got a bit carried away in celebrating.

Izra's dark, mysterious gaze. We just killed two wild boars.

Rona's fluttering fingers. Down, down, down.

And the ominous orders the King had given me just before I left: If Izra suspects you, capture her. And if she attacks you, kill her.

Fighting against another tidal wave of panic and confusion, I remembered how the King's eyes had crinkled with concern, and his warm hand had squeezed my shoulder. This was the man who had saved me. The man who had bought me a toy on each holiday, who had chuckled with delight the first time I beat Makandi in a wrestling match, who had fulfilled my dream of joining the Royal Guard.

This man cared about his people and about me. The monster who lurked in the back of my mind was only a figment of my imagination.

By the time I reached the Coupling, I clung to this conclusion like a piece of shoreline, a respite from the battering waves. I dismounted, straightened the fabric of my tunic and trousers, and scanned the crowd with slow, steady breaths.

But then Izra's gaze met mine.

And the sea swallowed me whole.

A navy tunic draped over her slender frame, her raven hair swept into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, and a sword hung from her belt at both hips. Simple, yet breathtaking — brushstrokes of whimsical brilliance set against a mundane backdrop.

She smiled and curled a finger to beckon me. With each step toward her, I sank deeper into the sea. As tons of water pressed down on my chest and filled my lungs, one thought gripped me with surprising ferocity.

I can't do this.

I can't lie to her again.

Izra folded her arms across her chest, but her smile remained fixed. The curve of her lips and her thickly lashed eyes held no trace of wariness. So why did I feel that something had changed since our kiss the week before? Was I only reading a reflection of my own guilt?

She spoke in a polite, measured tone. "Good evening, Epsa."

"Good evening, Izra." My eyes dipped to the two swords strapped to her hips, one thin and the other broader. I drew my gaze back up to her face. "Can you wield two swords at the same time?"

She shook her head. "No... one of them is for someone else."

I furrowed my brow and opened my mouth to ask more, but she spoke again before I had the chance.

"If you'd like to spend the night with me once more, follow me."

Then without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and trotted away from the crowd off into the woods.

I swung a glance around me to see if anyone watched us — perhaps someone who could wield the second sword strapped to Izra's hip — but everyone appeared absorbed in their own conversations or drinks. My hands smoothed the sides of my unequipped tunic. Even unarmed, I figured I stood a fair chance against Izra. I knew how to duck and dodge, and I knew where to grab to force an opponent to drop their weapon.

But if more Resistance members awaited me wherever she led, they would slaughter a wild boar tonight.

I pulled in a deep breath and jogged after the disappearing silhouette. By the time I reached Izra's side, the lights winked out of sight behind me. As we walked, the din of inebriated voices faded to an occasional splitting laugh, and then to only the crackle of brittle leaves and sticks under our feet. I studied the sharp, unforgiving profile beside me.