A Visitor from Terrasen [Indefinite Hiatus]

Part 5: Born with a Blade

Rhysand felt genuinely nervous. He hadn't felt like this since he had been courting Feyre. Rowan was a difficult male to impress and pure power emanated from him even when no magic was being used. As much as the Illyrian's were war machines, this male was built for killing fields and triumph.

He started to suspect that in years, Rhys might have about a century on the other male. That didn't stop him feeling like a toddling child around Rowan, who watched everything with predatory closeness and who had the kind of relationship with his wife one might dream of.

Rhys knew now, why Aelin had fought so hard to get the the top of Ramiel, why she had hidden so much from them up until now. Rowan was something worthy of protecting, as was the monstrous yet breath-taking white wolf.

The High Lord had had to consciously make his voice smooth earlier, when asking Rowan if he wanted to join them. Azriel, who had been nearby at the time, was still shooting mocking looks at him. Oh Rhys was going to pummel his spymaster into the dirt for that, even a High Lord was allowed to be nervous once in a while.

They had wandered down to the semi-enclosed space behind the wall at the end of the garden. It had been important to have fully equipped training rings, but equally important it was out of sight from the garden. The Inner Circle didn't like feeling constantly at war.

Now however, Rhys was glad for the wall so that Feyre couldn't see him get his ass handed to him. If Rowan could go toe to toe with Cassian for Cauldron's sake, then Mother save Rhys for he was going to eat dirt.

The three Illyrian's were curiously watching Rowan to see how he prepared for sparring. In the war camp a few days prior there had been no foreplay to their duels. Here however, they could take their time and make sure to stretch.

Cassian pointedly started his own exercises but Azriel stood just out of Rowan's eyeline and flickered his own body in shadow while he started some gentle movements. Or at least, as gentle a movement as Azriel could do while holding a wicked longsword and a shorter dagger in his other hand.

Rhys did his best to make conversation, not overly keen to spend hours of his day in dead silence with heavily armed warriors. "I assume you train daily Rowan, how many hours do you manage between your duties?"

The other male was meandering through their weapons racks like the deadly blades there were mere childrens' toys. He didn't look too interested in conversation, and when he glanced up at Rhys he wanted to shrink away from those icy eyes. Gods this male was terrifying.

"I manage at least 2 hours in the morning before breakfast, then usually another hour during the day. I have a lot of work to get on with and my job sometimes require I travel," Rowan shrugged dismissively, his voice soft all the while he spoke. "I've been doing it long enough it's no bother."

Rhys couldn't help but notice the hint of bitterness there and instead directed the conversation towards Cassian. "That's about the same as you, so you've got no excuse for losing."

His general, instead of looking irritated just grinned. "Oh no little Rhysie, I do believe it's your turn." Azriel held in a chuckle, likely realising he was already on thin ice. Rhys still glared at him before responding to the general, "Are you giving me orders now Cassian?"

Rhys couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride when Rowan's lips twitched upwards into a smirk. They were both slightly surprised however, when Azriel moved forward from where he had been warming up and tipped his head towards one of the rings in invitation towards Rowan. "They'll be at this for a while." Azriel's voice was no more than a whisper of shadow but the icy male followed without complaint.