Chapter 32. The shadow of the Teacher
The silence in the training hall was different than before. Previously, it was a pre-thunderstorm, filled with the clang of steel and the roar of auras. Now she was focused, almost meditative.
Quinn stood in the center of the room with her eyes closed. Her face was wet with sweat, and her hands were shaking from fatigue after the endless, monotonous exercises I gave her. Not for strength, not for speed. For sensitivity.
— Do you hear? My words sounded low but clear, breaking the silence.
She shuddered, but did not open her eyes. —Footsteps,— she breathed. "Somewhere far away. The butler. Going... east. He's carrying something metallic. A tray?
"Okay,— I nodded. "And the smell?"
She wrinkled her nose as she inhaled. — Dust. Sweat. Blade oil... and... almonds? Where do almonds come from?
—The kitchen," I explained. — They bake macaroons. The wind from the ventilation changes direction. Now, what do you see?
She slowly opened her eyes. Her scarlet gaze swept across the room, no longer scanning it superficially, but absorbing the details. — The shadow of the chandelier has shifted by two fingers. That means it's been about half an hour. There's a new scratch on that shield," she jerked her head toward the wall. Shallow, fresh. Someone trained here before us. Left-handed. Strong, but careless.
The corners of my lips twitched. She was studying. Quickly. Very quickly. Her natural talent, which had previously been focused only on brute force, began to gain focus.
"Not bad,— I admitted. — For the first day.
Suddenly, the door to the hall creaked open. Ragnar stood in the doorway. His face was gloomy, and there were fresh bandages on his hands. He looked at us in silence, at his niece, standing with her eyes closed and listening to the dust, and his gaze was full of mute, venomous hatred.
Quinn felt his presence and opened her eyes. When she saw her uncle, she involuntarily straightened up, her usual arrogant expression returned to her face.
—Uncle,— she nodded.
—Quinn,— his voice sounded hoarse. — My father is calling. Business in the city. An attack on a warehouse with supplies.
"Now,— she gave me a quick glance, both disappointed and relieved that the lesson had been interrupted, and headed for the exit.
Ragnar did not leave. He continued to stand in the doorway, blocking my way, even after Quinn disappeared into the hallway.
"Teacher," he said, and the word sounded like an insult. "You've been teaching her all day... to listen to the dust." Where are the real technicians? Where are the martial arts?
I slowly turned to him. "She already knows how to smash,— I replied calmly. — She has been taught this since childhood. But a crash is a dead end. Before you can learn how to throw a punch, you need to learn... to see where to throw it.
—Words,— he snorted. — Empty words. You're afraid to show that you're worthless. You're afraid that when she really learns, she'll become stronger than you.
I looked at him, at his bandaged hands, at his broken pride. "Maybe," I agreed. "Or maybe I'm just making her stronger than you." And that scares you the most.
His face was contorted with rage. He took a step forward, his aura, weak but still poisonous, tried to put pressure on me. "I'll be watching you, ghost." Behind your every move. One wrong step... and I…
"What are you, Uncle?" — a clear voice rang out from the corridor. Quinn is back. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and looked at Ragnar with unexpected reproach. — The teacher is waiting. Or do you want your father to come for you?
Ragnar froze, then, after giving me one last look of hatred, turned around and left.
Quinn looked at me. There was a complex mix of emotions in her eyes. "He's wrong,— she said, suddenly firm. —I...I've never felt space like this." It's... interesting.
—Interesting—this is the beginning," I said. "It's going to hurt tomorrow."
She nodded and left without another word.
I was left alone in a huge empty hall. The air is still vibrating from her energy, from her awakened perception.
They didn't understand. Neither Ragnar, nor perhaps even Solomon himself. They thought I was giving her new techniques. A new weapon.
I didn't give her a weapon. I was giving her new eyes. And when she looks at her Clan, her world with them... that's when the fun begins.
Until then... I needed to check on Yuki. Leaving her alone in this stone trap, even for a few hours, was a risk.
I left the hall and headed for our wing, feeling Ragnar's heavy, hating gaze on my back, watching me from some shadow.
Let him watch. Soon he will see something that will make him regret it.