Training

The next morning, Cat handed her his black robe and told her to wear it.

"But this is your armour," she said.

He pressed it more into her hands, closing her fingers over the shadowy fabric. "I want you to have it."

"Won't you be more vulnerable then?"

"My mother may have been human, but I'm still a god." His gaze met hers. "And I'll feel a lot more comfortable knowing that you have better protection, especially with my father coming here."

She bit her lip. Perhaps he had a point. "Okay, if you're sure …"

He helped her into the robe and even did up the tie for her. Heat grazed her cheeks. It felt oddly intimate. He was so careful, so respectful with every touch, and the way he smoothed the fabric along her shoulders and down her arms left her warm and filled with flutters.

"Thank you," she said more shyly than intended.

He smiled, though a pinch of strain lingered in his eyes. "You can change it to look however you like. It shouldn't interfere with the protection magic built into it." His tone took on a teasing lilt. "I know you're not a big fan of black."

"I don't mind it so much," she murmured, running her hand along the fabric. The colour reminded her of him.

Still, she did change the robe to suit her style more, reshaping it into black pants and a jerkin the colour of the reddest of apples. Even with her arms covered only by her white shirt, she could tell that her entire body was protected. It was just an innate understanding.

"Looks good," he said, and then grabbed her hand. "Now you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

His expression turned grim. "Training."

She tilted her head. "Training?"

"You wanted to learn how to protect yourself, right?"

Her heart thumped faster, though whether it was from alarm or anticipation, even she couldn't say. "Wait, Cat, just what are you planning?"

He tugged on her hand so she was forced to follow. "You'll see."

oOo

They stood opposite each other in the ballroom. He tossed her a wooden staff, which almost slipped through her fingers when she went to catch it.

"Aside from magic and hand-to-hand combat, some gods use a weapon to fight," he explained, and thrust his hand out and grabbed an ink-black staff from what seemed like thin air. "This is mine."

Her heart started its little thumping beat against her ribs. "Cat, I appreciate that you want to help me protect myself better, but I'm just a human. I can't fight a god."

"With my armour and weapon, you'll at least have a fighting chance."

Her eyes widened. "You want to give me your staff?"

A smile curved his lips. "Well, you'll have to prove you can handle it first." He thrust his hand back out behind him and the weapon vanished to wherever it had come from. Then he picked up a wooden staff identical to hers and leaned on it in a deceptively casual way. "That's why we'll start with these."

She lifted the staff, testing its weight. "I've never fought with … well, anything before."

"I know it might feel awkward to hold, but the staff will be a good weapon for you. You're small—"

Her lips pursed.

"Don't give me that face. You know it's true."

Unfortunately, she really couldn't argue. He was taller than her by several inches, not to mention much broader in the arms and shoulders despite his slender build.

"Swords and axes have a shorter reach, and bows are unwieldy," he said, and moved closer to tap his staff to hers with a light clack. "With this, it's easier to defend and keep your distance. That'll work in your favour."

She bit her lip. "Do you really think this is necessary?"

He gripped her shoulder. "I think we should do all that we can to make you stronger. I don't know everything my father is planning, and don't forget that he has the ability to create warriors. At least with this, you'll know how to defend yourself."

She nodded and took a firmer grip on the staff. "Okay."

"Then let's begin."

It was like a dance. He slowed the basic moves right down, getting her to mimic him and adjusting her stance when needed—which was more than she cared to admit. The staff felt clunky in her hands. It was difficult to remember how to position her feet. But Cat was patient. More than patient. Somehow, he really believed that she was worthy of being bestowed his weapon. It made her want to try harder. To succeed.

"Good," he said, blocking her staff from striking his leg. "Let's try that faster."

A tentative smile curved her lips.

They continued to practice until she was sweating and wishing for a bath, but she had at least got the basics down. It was like training with Cat had awakened some rusted, half-forgotten part of her, and this Marinette knew how to fight: how to root her feet for balance but also move fluidly into the next attack; how to anticipate her opponent's moves and dodge and parry. Even Cat was surprised by her rapid progress.

"You really are a fast learner," he said in awe. "I mean I hoped you'd pick up the staff as quickly as you did the creation magic, but that you managed to master the basics in one session is amazing."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't know if it's that."

"What do you mean?"

She lowered her gaze to her hands. "Sometimes I get these strange feelings …"

"Feelings?"

"It's like … like I've done all this before. Even when we kiss, I …" Heat spread in waves over her cheeks.

"What?" he said softly.

"Nothing."

She was too embarrassed to admit that it felt impossibly right. They'd only kissed on three occasions—one being on their wedding day—and while she enjoyed kissing him and was sure that he cared about her a lot, everything was still so new. Telling him the truth would be like shedding her clothes right now to stand naked in front of him. Too exposing. Too vulnerable. She just wasn't ready.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. She got the feeling he wanted to push the issue, but he was too polite.

"Um, okay," he said, rubbing the base of his neck. "Let's take a break then. We can start training again when you're ready."

Her jaw dropped. "You want to keep training?"

"Father has realised he can't expect you to heal the tree in one go. I want to make full use of that."

A sigh escaped her lips. Well, she couldn't argue with that. It seemed she was about to get very familiar with her wooden training staff.