Until then, she concentrated on running, lifting, punching, kicking, and trying not to lose her mind. Brokk must have sensed this as every free moment she had, he used it to drill her into exhaustion.
Every night she fell into bed, certain she would pass out; every night, she was proven wrong. That didn’t mean she wasn’t tired. Every muscle she had ached, she was covered in bruises, and she’d come to despise running.
But every day, she dragged herself back outside to care for the animals before training with him again. He’d started training her on how to use a sword he took out of her father’s armory, but the weapon was awkward and cumbersome.
She was much better with a short sword. However, Brokk didn’t know how well she would do with using it in battle. Things were pretty up close and personal with a sword no matter what, but they were a lot more so with a short sword.
He didn’t think she could handle being that close to an enemy and watching them die. She would do whatever she could to survive, and she excelled with the short sword compared to the longer one.
She was also pretty good with throwing stars and getting better. Brokk focused her on these as she could hit an enemy with them without ever getting close. Which meant, she could inflict damage against what would probably be a stronger immortal without putting herself in too much danger.
And as he drilled it into her head every day, once she inflicted that damage, she should run fast. Outrunning a vampire who could transport was impossible, but she was fast enough to outrun other immortals.
She just loathed the idea of running.
Sometimes, as they trained, Sahira would stand nearby scowling, wincing in sympathy, and sometimes pumping her fist when Lexi got in a solid blow against Brokk. Often, after those signs of encouragement, she would smooth down her shirt and pants and walk away.
She would never admit it, but Lexi saw her aunt’s pride in what she was doing, even if Sahira was determined to hide it. Today, Sahira never left her garden.
As the sun started to set, they ended her training with a sparring match by the lake. Lexi ignored the sweat trickling down her neck and sticking her hair to her nape as the late June sun beat down on her.
She couldn’t help feeling some pride as she traded jabs with Brokk. She was getting better at this. She would still get her ass handed to her by a trained, full-blooded immortal, but she might be able to take down one who had no fighting experience.
“Good, good,” Brokk said as he danced before her.
If Malakai ever attacked her again, she might not be able to kill him, but she would make him regret it. She would tear him apart before he killed her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brokk slipped through the shadows of the woods as he pursued the deer making its way through the trees ahead of him. Normally, he was content with feasting on the blood bags Lexi stashed in her fridge, but it had been a long time since he hunted in any way, and his darker nature sought an outlet.
His dark fae side and vampire side had both been denied since he’d taken over watching Lexi. He didn’t resent it; he would do anything for his brothers—or, at least, he would have done anything for all his brothers before the war.
Now, he would still do anything for his brothers… within reason. He would do anything for Cole. They’d chosen the same side and stood by their father; they had shared many of the same losses and defeats and grown closer because of it.
He now considered Cole his best friend, but they were never close growing up or as young adults because of their age difference. They were friendly, joked with each other, and shared experiences, but not in the same way he had with his brothers who were closer in age.
Five of those brothers chose to fight against their father, and the other two, who remained on their side, perished during the war. That only left him and Cole, and they’d bonded during their many days of endless battles and strategy planning. They also spent many nights drinking and prowling for women while they blew off steam.
He had no doubt Cole would die for him, and he would do the same. Cole could be dying for him and the rest of the fae right now, and he would have no way of knowing. The last time he heard from his brother was when Cole sent him a crow to let him know he couldn’t find Malakai.
He couldn’t think about Cole not surviving the trials. The two of them had done things neither of them expected or enjoyed doing. They’d fought for the bastard who killed their father, all while trying to figure out how to destroy him, and they’d failed.
They both lived with the guilt of that failure. But they also lived with the knowledge that while the Lord wasn’t hunting them, they could do more than either of their brothers to destroy him.
A part of him hated Orin and Varo as much as he loved them. If he found them, he would protect them as his father would have, but he’d prefer to have nothing to do with them. They chose to break off when they could have stayed, and they were a big part of the reason his father was dead.
Taking a break from hunting the deer, Brokk leaned against a tree and drew the shadows around him. So far, there had been no threat to Lexi and Sahira, but he didn’t know how long that would last. Once Cole got through the trials, Lexi would become a much bigger target for all those who would seek to bring down his brother.
And he would not let anything happen to her. He’d already lost too many of his brothers; he would not lose another.
Besides, Lexi was his friend, and despite having been alive for six hundred years, he didn’t have any remaining friends outside his family.
He had considered her father a friend and was glad to call the daughter one too.
Closing his eyes, Brokk tipped his head back and welcomed the warmth of the sun beating down on him. Ever since he learned of his father’s death, a chill had seeped into his bones that he couldn’t quite eradicate.
The chill was more than grief; he hated to admit it, but it was also fear—fear of the unknown, for his brother, and all of them.
The Lord was crazier than they’d all believed. There wasn’t anything that monster wouldn’t do. Which meant all bets were off. Before, there were at least some rules and boundaries.
They were obliterated when the Lord killed the king of the dark fae.
Brokk’s eyes burned as he strove to suppress his sorrow. It was nearly impossible as he recalled the coolness of his father’s fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead before he pulled the covers around him. Once tucked in, his dad would pitch his voice low to regale him with whatever new story he made up.
The stories often consisted of pirates and dragons needing to be slain. The adventures made Brokk giggle. Sometimes, his mother came to visit him, but she was content to live mostly child-free.
Brokk was fine with that. They got along well enough when he saw her, but his father was his rock, and though the king was feared by many, he doted on his sons.
And he also had his brothers. Even without the constant presence of his mother in his life, Brokk felt surrounded by love growing up. Yes, there was a big age difference between him and some of his brothers, but there was always love there.
And now, almost all the love he experienced as a child was gone.
Varo and Orin still lived, but if they did defeat the Lord and somehow regain control of their lives, he wasn’t sure he could forgive them for their role in his father’s death—or Cole’s, if his brother didn’t survive the trials. He was there because of his brothers.