Chapter 84

What David failed to grasp was that Thomas had learned far more than mere swordplay under Nathan’s tutelage. Nathan, the man renowned for his imperturbable façade—never giving away so much as an eyebrow’s twitch—had schooled Thomas in mastering the art of concealing rage as thoroughly as he mastered the art of combat. Each time they sparred, Nathan drilled into him a single lesson: the enemy must never glimpse the flame simmering beneath the surface. Anger, like wildfire, was only useful when unleashed at precisely the right moment.

Thomas could almost hear Nathan’s low voice in his mind now, steady and unflinching: “Keep your cool. No matter what trick they play, you remain as calm as stone.” And Thomas had to admit—if Nathan had foreseen this very clash unfolding today, he deserved every last measure of gratitude. Beer, cake, perhaps a platter of free food from Thomas’s own restaurant—anything to reward that lunatic instructor for predicting the future. Thomas imagined Natha