The Next Day
“Feet apart, Carissa. No, not that far. And weight on the balls of your feet.”
She adjusted her stance and swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. It came away glistening with sweat. “I’m trying.”
Elon drummed his fingers against the hilt of his sword. “We’ve only been working on a fighting stance, Carissa, and we haven’t made much progress in the past hour.”
She suppressed a cringe. What he didn’t say was that she also had several bad habits they were having to break, habits she’d acquired while mindlessly hacking away at training dummies. “I’m so sorr—”
Elon lifted his hand, palm outward. “There’s no need to apologize. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
Her gaze darted to the horizon.
“The darkness—is that what’s bothering you?”
“It’s only a week away.” She ducked her head. “I’ve wasted all of this time, and we barely have any time to train. I just… I’m not sure I can do this.”
A smile spread across his lips. “You’re not sure you can? Since when has it been about what you can or can’t do?”
She stared, her eyebrows raised. “Then what am I training for?”
“Training to make you stronger is important, but its primary purpose is to strengthen your connection with me. The more our moves are in sync, the better I’ll be able to defend you, and the stronger our connection, the better you’ll be able to fight Reapers.” He closed the distance between them, nudging her feet with his as he corrected her stance, lifting her arms a bit higher. “After all, your source of power comes from me; it’s not really your own.”
She sighed and kicked at the sand beneath her. “But you had a plan for my training, Elon. According to your Foresight, wasn’t I supposed to start weeks ago?”
Elon shrugged. “That certainly would have been easier, but I think you underestimate my improvisational skills.” He brushed her cheek. “You can never wander so far or make so many mistakes that it’ll somehow ruin my plan. So long as you want to be a part of—” He stiffened.
“Be part of what, Elon?” It had sounded like he was about to say something profound and Elon-like. And then he’d just stopped.
He stared into the distance, eyes glazed, brows furrowed. Was he using his foresight? And then he blinked, a curse spilling from his mouth.
Something cold gripped her chest. Elon never cursed.