Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

that showed off her thin, whiplike body, and lately, she had begun offering more advice than normal in meetings. She had even started making appearances at training in the morning, when previously the female archon had never turned up.

And while Chezran hadn’t responded directly to the female’s advances, he also hadn’t spurned them in any way.

So on a day not long after her chat with Renhed, Siraay decided that she couldn’t wait any longer. She could feel that Chezran was beginning to focus more and more on the battle to come, and she knew that soon his every fibre would be bent upon securing the victory he had planned for so many cycles.

A victory planned for by his family across generations.

And if Siraay didn’t establish herself as central to him, and this war, before they left to conquer the capital, then she might very well just end up another archon, absorbed into Chezran’s inner circle once he was done with her.

Sure, at the moment, he thought that she was important to securing his win, due to her special talents and his belief that she was the one referred to in the prophecy.

And he had said, after her awakening, that she was his mate.

But saying this, and actually making it so, were two very different things.

A difference Siraay meant to rectify.

And that meant using every advantage she had.

It had started that morning. She had gone to training, at the usual time, and had been pleased to note that Chezran had only just arrived before her, warming up at the far end of the training hall with one of his own guards.

Siraay had turned to Loce. ‘Ready?’

Loce had nodded, and away they went, warming up first, then doing a few practice sparring rounds to limber themselves up.

Loce looked over and down at her a couple of times while they were still warming up their muscles with practice shots. ‘Different outfit today, I see,’ he said neutrally.

Siraay grinned at him. ‘Yes. Suits me better when we’re working up a sweat, I think.’ She bent down, touching her hands to her feet, the slits on the outside of her black pants showing the length of her legs from her ankle, where the pants were clasped with silver bands, to her upper thigh, where a black band joined the upper pieces once more around her lower abdomen.

The top she wore was sleeveless, its front crisscrossing over her breasts before it circled down over the outer edges of her stomach and around her spine and back again to tie onto the tops of her pants.

It was an outfit that suited Siraay’s attitude and purpose that day, and showed off enough of her to make the males in the room wonder what the rest of her might look like, but not enough that they forgot how lethal she could be.

And when she and Loce began sparring properly, Siraay didn’t hold anything back. When Loce went to hit her, she made sure that all he met was empty air before her counterattack sent him spinning away with a flash of her hands.

Loce stared at her, stunned. ‘You’ve been practising.’ A statement more than a question.

Siraay nodded. ‘Again?’

They went for three more rounds, with the same result each time, before Loce threw up his hands while his back rested against the training mat, laughing quietly. ‘I submit—please, pick another victim for a few rounds so I can regain some of my dignity.’

Siraay smiled and helped him up, knowing that he was actually pleased with the display of skill they had just put on.

But barely had Loce stepped away from his place when Herrin stepped forwards from the few people who had gathered around to watch.

Siraay was surprised, as the training master was rarely in this room—rarely in the palace, for that matter—since he spent most of his time looking after the training of the new division.

‘Care for a round?’ Herrin said this with his usual expressionless face, but his gait was swift as he walked forwards to stand before Siraay.

Still breathing heavily from her exertions with Loce, Siraay took the barest moment to assess her own remaining strength before nodding.

Herrin waited for her to set herself in a fighting stance, and the moment she was in position, he leapt forwards.

Whereas Loce was a careful fighter, Herrin was all force, surprise, and brute strength. And while Siraay couldn’t possibly stand toe to toe with him in a battle of strength, she also knew she didn’t have to.

So Herrin found his strength being used against him as Siraay was never where his blows landed. She would shift just enough to be able to grab and turn or brush aside the attacking limb so that the force Herrin exerted was turned back upon himself.

They went for four rounds, neither the outright winner, before Herrin signalled to stop.

Relieved and triumphant without displaying it, Siraay snatched up her towel from the floor, mopping the sweat from her face and neck, and thanking the Mother for the split pants she had chosen to wear that morning that allowed air to cool the hot skin of her legs.

‘Nothing left, then?’

Siraay’s hands dropped slowly from her face, the towel clenched in her fists. She twisted her head slowly, raising her chin as she regarded Pyron. ‘Even exhausted, I can fight you, and win.’

Her bold words were quiet, but they drew appreciative chuckles and murmurs from the other archons, captains, and senior guards who were in the training hall.

And the exchange made Chezran break off his own sparring match at the end of the hall to see what had caused the rest of the room to stop training.

Pyron’s eyebrows lifted, and Siraay noted the sweat that was rolling down the sides of his temples. It appeared he had also been working hard this morning.

‘Such confidence,’ said Pyron loudly, pretending admiration, which vanished in the next instant before he said quietly to her, ‘Let me disabuse you of your own sense of worth.’ The chief archon reached down to