Chapter 13 #2
The highborn seemed to love the display of raw power and courage, or perhaps my do-not-give-a-shit attitude as I stepped from the puddle of gold silk, a vision in a very short dress and riding boots. I looked down at them. Swiftly removed them and kicked them to one side, so I was barefoot.
Now I looked positively feral.
I grinned at Lorien, showing him my fangs as I shifted my bare feet apart on the sun-warmed flagstones and held my dagger point down, flexing my fingers around the grip.
Showing him that this fight wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought.
Had he really expected me to try to fight in a long dress, impeding my range of movement?
Lorien snapped his fingers at the guard, summoning him to his side. He undid his belt and stripped off his tunic jacket and shoved both at the male. As soon as the guard had a grip on them, Lorien drew his sword.
And attacked me.
I leaped backwards, keeping the distance between us steady as he launched into a flurry of blows that looked like all show and no substance to me.
The training I had been put through in Falkyr, and in my battles against the Hunt Pack, roared to the fore as my wolf side leaped at the chance to put this male in his place.
Or at least take him down a peg or two.
Blood thundered in my ears, drowning out the jeering crowd as Lorien made another attempt to skewer me on his slender blade.
He huffed as I dodged right this time, moving as quickly as I could manage, and twisted to keep track of me, his sword clanging against my dagger as I lunged at him.
The force of the collision sent a wave of numbness rolling up my arm but I shook it off, not letting it distract me as he came at me again.
Faster this time.
I arched my body backwards, bending to avoid being struck as his blade sliced clean across where my stomach would have been, and brought my left leg up as his sword passed me. I slammed my shin into his side, knocking him with enough force that he staggered away from me, struggling for balance.
Fangs flashed between his lips as he growled at me, murder shining in his cold blue eyes.
“Aw, does the little fae prince not like that a female landed the first blow?” I mock pouted at him.
The crowd roared with laughter as I jabbed at his emotions, targeting his pride, trying to make him lose his hold on his temper so he made rash decisions and let his feelings seize control, becoming an easier target for me to take down.
I grinned as he came at me, the ice in his eyes giving way to fire that provoked my wolf instincts. He wanted a piece of me. I wasn’t in the mood to let him have it. I danced out of his way, coming around behind him and kicking him in the back of the knee.
He didn’t topple as expected.
He rolled, twisting onto his feet and kicking off, his sword an arrow aimed at my heart. I swept low, breath hitching as the blade shot through the air above my head, and kicked my leg out, aiming for his shins.
Lorien leaped over my leg, laughing at me as he executed a perfect somersault as if it was nothing, and landed behind me to kick me in the back. I rolled as he had, but landed in a low crouch, one hand pressed to the warm flagstones and the other tightly gripping my dagger.
I needed more speed.
No, I needed to read his tells. What leg he favoured. What was his favourite pattern of attack. I needed to keep baiting him until he gave up his secrets.
“I’m guessing this is a to the death thing.” I canted my head, letting my wolf side show in my eyes, letting them glow with an unholy light as I sized him up.
He was bigger than me, but that didn’t mean he was slower.
Kaeleron had at least a foot on me and was faster because of his fae blood.
But I was agile, and smaller, and that could be an advantage too.
“Your death, not mine.” He grinned at me.
“So cocky,” I muttered and just as he was about to snipe back at me, I made my move.
I kicked off, launching into the air with all the grace my wolf blood afforded me, twisting my body as I sailed over his head. That head slowly came up, too slow to track me properly. Victory tasted almost as sweet as vengeance. I gripped my dagger in both hands, aiming it at the nape of his neck.
And grunted as he elbowed me in the gut.
My corset took the brunt of the blow, but it was hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs, and I had to think fast to evade the blow that followed it as his sword came around, sweeping in a silver arc right at my head.
I did the only thing I could to keep it on my shoulders.
For the first time in my life, and possibly the last time because it hurt like a bitch, I did the splits.
And as the crowd jeered again, I popped to my feet, bringing my dagger up.
Slicing up his bare chest.
Crimson spilled down his abs, staining his white trousers, and I pressed my advantage as he blinked at what I had done.
Only Lorien recovered far quicker than I had hoped he would, and I was on the back foot, desperately defending against every hack and slash of his blade as he unleashed on me.
I fought for air as I moved with him, backing up, blocking as best I could as his speed increased, as that fire in his eyes became raw rage that had the skin around them turning golden.
His other side.
The answering beast I had seen lurking in Sylvan back in that glade.
Lorien’s fingertips were brilliant gold, his nails inch-long gleaming claws as he battered me with blow after blow of his sword, wearing me down as I tried to keep up with him, aware that if I missed just one of his strikes that it would be over.
When he couldn’t get past my dagger with his blade, he growled low, his eyes flashing dangerously. He attacked with his sword again, bringing it down hard at my head at a wider angle, forcing me to twist towards it to block it. When I did, he used the opening I had foolishly given him.
He punched me in the face.
Pain ricocheted through my skull, the right side of my jaw screaming with fire.
“Son of a bitch,” I snarled and gritted my teeth against the hazy web of pain.
No. No pain. No fear.
I was far too aware of that brand on my chest, that link to Kaeleron that would fire if I felt for a second that I was in danger. I wasn’t in danger. This was just a lovely sparring session with my new half-brother. No reason for Kaeleron to come play dark knight and rescue me.
I could handle this.
Because there was no way I was going to summon Kael into the middle of this shit storm through our bond and get him killed.
Sylvan watched both of us, gaze flitting between us, calculating and shrewd, cataloguing every move we made.
When Lorien went to strike me again, I roared and brought my dagger up as hard and fast as I could manage, putting every drop of my strength and speed into the blow.
He bellowed as my blade sliced across his fingers, almost cutting them to the bone, and the sword clattered from his failing grip as he stumbled backwards.
I lunged for him, thrusting my dagger at his gut.
His claws slashed across my chest, so close to the beautiful mark Kaeleron had placed on me, and he grinned in my face as I gasped and missed him with my dagger, my blow flung wide by the pain that blazed along the gashes.
He followed it up by knocking the dagger from my grip, leaving us both without a weapon.
Fine.