The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [66]
Everyone around them went suddenly still. This tête-à-tête was gathering even a larger audience than her activities in the training ring. She ignored their presence and focused on the man in front of her—the man she desperately wanted to train her.
‘So it’s my imagination that is in question now?’ His eyebrows went up, and he folded his arms across his bare chest.
‘Rosette,’ Zero cut in, ‘it is not appropriate to speak to the Sword Master as if…’
‘What’s not appropriate is the way you go about this indirect assessment…’ Rosette snapped her mouth shut, stopping the words before she dug herself in any deeper.
An’ Lawrence did not appear amused. ‘Eat something, Rosette. Rest. I’ll train with you myself at second call. We’ll test both our imaginations then, shall we?’
An’ Lawrence nodded to Zero, and gave Rosette a fleeting smile before walking away.
Rosette stared at his back. No-one was laughing now. Most of the glances she caught out of the corner of her eye had the flavour of pity in them. Her fellow students seemed to feel sympathy for her bad luck at having to match wits and skills with the Sword Master so soon. Well, bring it on. Second call was two hours away and she would have recovered by then.
Filling her waterbag, she watched the stream rush past her submerged hand. It tickled her fingers, cool and soothing against the bruised skin and bones. Pushing in the cork and shaking her hands dry, she took off her boots, freeing her aching feet. Her stomach growled.
Slinging her waterbag and boots over her shoulder, she replaced her practice sword on the rack and grabbed some bread, dried meat and fruit from the long table. It had been set out for the students to eat, converse and refresh themselves, but Rosette had no desire to join in. The last thing she wanted was to sit with others and chat or, worse yet, endure an equally confronting silence. She didn’t have the energy.
Only one place called to her and she headed there as fast as her tired legs could carry her. Down the path and over a short rise, she made her way to where the fruit trees grew. If she could rejuvenate anywhere, it was there—in the orchard.
Rosette strolled under rows of apple trees, feeling nothing but the gentle autumn breeze on her damp skin and the easy give of the grass beneath bare feet. Tossing her boots to the ground, she sat cross-legged in the shade of the largest. Stories were told of how this tree had arrived as a seed in the belly of a strange bird, perhaps from the lost Southern Continent. Dormant in the summer and lush with fruit in the spring, it certainly had its seasons back to front. Now and then, random blooms drifted down, a rain of pink and white petals.
Breathing in their scent, she revelled in the combination of apple buds, green wood and freshly cut grass. Heavenly! This was one of her favourite sanctuaries. It always rejuvenated her.
Drayco? Lunch with me in the orchard?
You sound tired.
I am.
I’ll come.
Unwrapping the bread and meat, she took a long drink from her waterbag. She was famished. Eyeing the sandwich after the first bite of sourdough and dried beef, she scanned the ground near the base of the tree, spotting fresh watercress. She plucked a few sprigs to add to her meal. Delicious.
While munching, she looked out between the near-bare branches of the other fruit trees to the distant horizon. The view to the south seemed so far away. The sky rushed down to meet the hills in a bright and cloudless cornflower blue. It was still, like a painting, peaceful and calm. She knew it was anything but.
That was where she had come from, the south. An agitated place, etched by the fierce and pounding Azul Sea, it was less than welcoming to her thoughts. The people of that land were as tough and harsh as the storms that shaped them and anything unique was shunned in their urge to conform and survive. Lividica had swallowed her family whole. She never wanted to go there again.
Then her thoughts turned to Jarrod. Was he still hunting in the forests, stripping off to swim in the protected