FIVE

Wow … and I thought I was cold, Ivy thought as she watched the entire household leave a begging Dex on the sand, repeating one word over and over. Watching Lark put Dex through his paces had been as entertaining as it had been stimulating. After everyone had filed out of the house to heckle poor Dex, she had tried hard to remain aloof and uninterested in the kitchen. However, several wolf whistles and bouts of raucous laughter later, she had been helpless to resist peeking out the window. And what she had seen had almost made her swallow her tongue.

It wasn’t the once esteemed Charlemagne-come-felon twisted into a strange and painful-looking pretzel that had her eyes bugging out of her head. No, it was the lean, muscular form of Lark with his smooth lines, flexible body, and undeniable skill. One look at him mastering the Firefly pose and she had made her way swiftly from the seclusion of the house and out to the noisy audience lining the sand.

Lark’s legs had been raised and stretched out in front of him so they were parallel to the ground as his forearms held his entire body weight. The difficult pose was only for those who practised yoga at an advanced level. She knew because she had been trying to master it herself for over a year. She was strong and disciplined in both mind and body yet she could never balance her centre of gravity properly in order to achieve the tricky position. But Lark had accomplished it so effortlessly. It was obvious the man was truly skilled and was no amateur like she had assumed.

She had figured he practised some stretches and breathing, maybe a little meditation, as a weekend hobby. But as she watched the natural light hit every disciplined line of his body, she had felt a curious flutter in her stomach – like maybe she had been wrong. And if she was wrong about one thing, was it possible she was wrong about others?

One thing she hadn’t been wrong about; Lark sure was pretty to look at. The only negative had been that the man hadn’t once removed his shirt to show off what she was sure were a bunch of sinewy muscles. Picturing a man’s muscles – sinewy or not – on someone who was young enough to be her son was unacceptable. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the object at her feet.

“Water, water, water,” came the pathetic whimpers from the heap of sweaty, tired flesh lying on the beach – rather close to the waves now, given the tide was coming in.

Casting her eyes toward the house, she waited hopefully – and fruitlessly – for anyone else to ride to the reformed man’s rescue. But after a solid thirty seconds of listening to nothing but whines and ragged breathing, she accepted the fact that no-one was coming. Not even his fiancé. Expelling an annoyed breath, she said;

“Get up.”

“Water …” was the thin reply.

Rolling her eyes, she squatted down in front of him, “If you don’t move, you’re soon going to have more water than you know what to do with. The tide is coming in,” she informed him.

He flung an arm back and began searching blindly, for what – she had no idea. He just kept feeling around with his hand and she couldn’t help but think it looked remarkably like Thing from the Addams Family, “What are you doing?” she finally asked.

“I’m seeking aid, woman! You’re supposed to help me up,” was his muffled reply because his face was still buried in the sand.

“Do I look like a servant to you?” she snapped, almost instantly regretting her tone. There was no point taking out her poor mood on Dex. But she didn’t apologise.

“Sheesh, Ivy. Will you loosen up?” Dex reprimanded as he finally rolled to his back. His face and body were completely covered with sand thanks to the sheen of sweat that layered his torso and limbs. But even as she watched, a gust of wind kicked up and the sand disappeared almost instantly.

“Neat trick,” she acknowledged.

“Thanks. Cali thinks so too,” he flashed a teasing smile up at her.

Although he no longer looked half dead and his breathing no longer resembled a smoking asthmatic, he made no attempt to move even as the waves began to kiss his feet. He seemed to be staring at her, so she did what she did best and completely ignored him.

“You’re really not going to give me a hand?” he asked, sounding curious.

“Don’t I help you enough?” she returned, unable to help her waspish replies. Old habits die hard.

“Indeed you do. Perhaps I don’t thank you enough for that …” he offered, sounding chastised and genuine.

She sighed, feeling about an inch tall, “There’s no need. I volunteered.”

“Doesn’t make it any less of a sacrifice or a duty,” he assured her.

“Whatever,” she muttered, feeling uncomfortable. She hadn’t come down here for a deep and meaningful. For some reason, her response made him smile and he held his hand out to her once more. Resigned to the inevitable, she grasped his arms at the wrist and felt him return the gesture as she used her body weight to lever him to his feet. It was no small feat either, given the man was practically dead weight.

He groaned as he straightened, rubbing his lower back, “I am so going to feel this in the morning. That man is a yoga shark.”

The comment startled her into a spontaneous reaction and she turned to him quizzically, “A yoga shark?”

“Yeah, you know, like a pool shark except with yoga. I was played,” he admitted, looking very sheepish, “I should have known better. Lark is a master of all trades and Jack of none.”

Ivy snorted at that. Just because the guy could pull off the Firefly pose didn’t mean he was good at everything.

“Problem?” Dex inquired.

Ivy glanced at him before looking quickly away, not liking the curiosity on his face but liking the hint of censure even less. “No problem,” she assured him.

Dex rolled his neck on his shoulders, eliciting several loud cracks from the vertebrae, “Really? Because you seem tense.”

She threw him a look from the corner of her eye, “I’m always tense.”

“No. You’re always stiff,” he corrected, “not tense. Big difference.”

“Whatever,” she shrugged. She loved that one word. It covered so many bases and was a far politer way of saying piss off.

“You know if you want me to fuck off, you could just say it,” Dex pointed out, mildly.

She was completely caught off guard for once, turning to face him and stuttering; “Huh? What?”

“That tone you use – you’re saying one thing but you really mean ‘fuck off and mind your own business’, right?” he laughed, quietly. “Darius is the master of the exact same thing. As a kid, he was always so contained and rational. He kept everything bottled up and smiled for the world when inside he was getting ready to explode. It would take weeks of me poking at him and teasing him to get him to finally open up. He was stubborn, even as a child. But I became a master at dragging the truth from him. It’s not a skill that goes away,” he informed her. “Now, if we had weeks at our disposal, I could pick at you day in and day out until you erupted but we don’t have that kind of time. You’ll be heading out soon with Lark and –”

She couldn’t contain the grimace that transformed her face at the mention of that name and she knew Dex saw it when he raised his eyebrows;

“Ah, so that’s your problem. Lark.”

She struggled to maintain her composure and keep her mouth shut. She felt too comfortable with the affable man – that was the problem. She didn’t want to admit it but providing vitality to Dex had made her feel closer to him. It was hard to remain aloof when you were sharing life-sustaining energy. He wasn’t a friend – she wouldn’t call him that – but she could admit he wasn’t an enemy or a stranger. Although he was no longer the celebrated man she had studied in her history books, he was still a good man – far more decent than many she knew – and the urge to talk to him was strong.

“Just spit it out. Did you already forget what I said about Darius?” Dex sounded exasperated.

She threw her hands up in the air, “Yes, I have a problem with Lark. Why wouldn’t I have a problem walking neck-deep into enemy territory with a kid who’s young enough to be my son? A kid who lives to smile and joke and please others. I mean, come on, Dex! He probably doesn’t even have callouses!”

Dex had watched her impartially throughout her entire rant but he frowned at her now, “Do you really think Max would have an incompetent knight in her Order, let alone entrust such an important task to one?”

“I don’t know, Dex. I barely know the woman. Who knows why she does the things she does.”

“Now I know you’re lying, Ivy. You must know Max just as well as I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing that brand on your upper arm. So, I’ll ask you again; if Max didn’t trust Lark as a warrior, why is he in her Order?”

“Because she loves him,” the answer was obvious to her.

“That she does. She loves everyone in that house and everyone standing out here too. She can’t seem to help herself. But that’s beside the point. You don’t respect him,” he stated.

She knew who him was, so she answered, “He’s a kid.”

“He’s a man and a paladin,” Dex corrected, “Born to protect and serve nature’s caretakers. He’s a soldier, Ivy. Just like you.”

She didn’t bother answering because she clearly saw whose side Dex was on. She knew it was a mistake to talk to him in the first place. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

“Tell me; how do you think we become tough?”

“What?” she asked, surprised by the apparent topic change.

“Toughness. It comes from being exposed to adversity, to pain, to coldness,” he explained.

She looked at him, blandly, “And you think the kid’s tough? That he’s been exposed to adversity? Come on – he’s the happiest person here.”

Dex merely shook his head, looking at her with something akin to pity, “You’re misjudging him. I did the same thing. It was a mistake.”

“And you’re protective of him,” she fired back.

“He doesn’t need me to protect him, trust me.”

Ivy shook her head, turning in the opposite direction of the house. The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by more meddling people.

“Ivy, wait,” Dex called, and it was only her inherent duty to a superior that had her pausing. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. You don’t know him. But Max thinks you and he are the best ones for the job – a very important job. Like, world-altering important. So I suggest you get your shit together and fix it because you can’t fight next to someone you don’t trust,” he stepped away from her then and began heading to the house.

She was just petty enough to gain satisfaction from the stiffness of his gait before he stopped and faced her once again; “Talk to him, Ivy. Get to know him.”

Get to know him? That was exactly what she had been hoping to avoid because she was worried she might just like what she discovered. And that would make him even more dangerous than a boy who couldn’t fight – to her, anyway.