Mis sur le site de l'auteur qui précise qu'elle ne sait pas encore si cet extrait fera, ou non, partie de ce dernier tome de la trilogie.

Kyol’s not a teacher, he’s a tyrant. A heartless, unrelenting and unforgiving tyrant. The training goes well for the first few hours. He drills me on the forms in an emotionless cool voice, and I put up with it until I feel fatigue settle into my shoulders and biceps. And my back. I didn’t realize holding and swinging a sword used so many muscles.

I don’t complain, though. I keep practicing the forms, defending when Kyol orders me to defend. I’m waiting for him to call a stop for the day – he feels how tired I am – but he doesn’t show any signs of ending the training. When sweat begins to sting my eyes and blisters start to form on my palms and fingers, I lower my sword.

“I need to rest.”

“Pitch right,” he says, telling me how to defend his attack.

“Really, I’m done – ow!” He jabs the point of his practice sword into my ribcage.

“We’re continuing,” he says in the same, level tone he’s used all morning.

I hold my side, glaring at him. That one almost drew blood. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise. It’s not the first one, though, and it won’t be the last, especially if we keep going. I’m moving twice as slowly as I was an hour ago, and my hands hurt.

“For how much longer?” I ask, trying to be patient. I want to learn how to defend myself, but I also want to be able to crawl out of bed in the morning.

Kyol calls out another strike. I barely knock his sword out of the way in time.

“Until you don’t forget the forms or until we reach Corrist,” he says.

I bite my lower lip. I didn’t forget the form that time. I just made a mess of it.

An hour later, we’re still going, and I’m seething with rage. I don’t try to hold back the feeling. I do my best to throw it in Kyol’s face because I’ve tried to stop twice now, and twice, he’s slammed his sword into my back, all without a trickle of remorse or concern passing through our bond. I’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours now, but even if I was well rested and hadn’t been walking for half the day, I still deserve a break. Kyol was Atroth’s damn swordmaster. He’s Lena’s damn lord general. He’s not attacking me with his full strength – not even half strength, I’m sure – but he’s not slowing his movements either.

He swings again, his practice sword cutting through the air. I raise my blade, manage to throw his attack off enough to not get hit, but I lose my grip on my sword. When it lands in the thick grass, I glare down at the red hilt. I know why it’s that color, now. The blisters on my hands broke a long time ago. They’re bleeding, but you can’t tell by looking at the sword.

Before Kyol orders me to pick it up, I grab it. Then, I throw it at his head. Miraculously, he doesn’t get his sword up in time to knock it away. The flat side of the blade thumps into his temple.

- Que se passe t'il? demandai je d'une voix cassée. (J'avais la gorge sèche et irritée.) Pourquoi est ce que ça m'arrive à moi?
Caspian ne répondit pas; il se contenta d'allumer la radio. Un violon égrenait des notes d'ue tristesse infinie. "Ne le sais tu pas, mon amour? susurrait une voix féminine,douce et pleine d'émotion. Mourras tu, mon amour? Je t'attends, je n'attends que toi. Les cendres sont revenues à la vie. Attendant, n'attendant que toi. Je t'attends... je n'attends que toi." Tandis que le violon faisait écho aux dernières paroles de la chanteuse, Caspian se tourna vers moi et me regarda dans les yeux.
- Je t'attends. Je n'attends que toi.

Je sentis mon corps se réchauffer de nouveau. Je plaquais ma main contre mon coeur. Il battait à tout rompre, comme un papillon emprisonné qui agitait ses ailes pour s'échapper.
- Ferme les yeux, chuchota t'il.
Je suivis ses instructions.
C'est alors que je le sentis: le lit s'enfonça très légérement. Si je n'avais pas fait attention, je ne m'en serai même pas rendu compte. Mon bras et ma jambe gauches me picotèrent pendant une seconde, bientôt imités par ma jambe et mon bras droit.
- Tu sens les battements de ton coeur?
Ses paroles dansaient devant mon visage. Je savais que si j'ouvrais les yeux, je le trouverai sur moi.
Ca aurait du me faire peur. Après tout, j'étais allongée sur un lit, coincée sous le corps d'un garçon. Pourtant...ce n'était pas vraiment le cas. Il ne pouvait pas m'immobiliser. Je me sentais bien avec lui. En sécurité. Mais la situation avait aussi un côté dangereux, excitant et ... enivrant.