22. Chapter 22 #3
They moved into position again, facing one another at the ready. This time, Vaelin started slow with easily parried swings and jabs, poking and prodding at her defences. She frowned as she easily deflected, her footwork pristine. Why was he going easy on her now?
She moved to block a strike, and suddenly her feet were sliding from under her, the smooth soles of her boots skidding over a patch of shale he had manoeuvred her onto.
She let out a sharp intake of breath, cursing as she caught her balance on a nearby tree.
Quickly, she moved to an earthier spot in the clearing where the ground provided more traction, cheeks flushing slightly.
Vaelin nodded approvingly, but continued his relentless strikes and jabs.
It wasn’t long until her breathing came heavier, the muscles in her arms and upper back growing tight and fatigued.
Her arms vibrated each time she met his strikes, and she gritted her teeth.
He had sped up his attacks gradually, she realized, maneuvering her to where he wanted her once again.
She stepped back, preparing to move to a different part of the clearing, but felt a hard tree trunk at her back.
Vaelin moved to strike head on, forcing her to side step quickly away from the tree, where she promptly tripped over an exposed root.
The pine needles blurred as she fell backwards, and Vaelin’s hand closed around her wrist, just as he had the first time they’d met, catching her before she hit the ground.
Her skin warmed where his fingers easily encircled her arm.
Gently, he pulled her back upright. She glared at him, a spark of mingled annoyance and embarrassment burning her cheeks.
He smiled slightly, noting her expression.
“That’s the environment piece,” he drawled.
She pulled her wrist out of his grasp, moving back into a ready position. “Again.”
He nodded and this time, she struck first. Quick, short slices of her light blade rang against his heavy one.
Isla felt a curl of satisfaction at his brief look of surprise.
Trying and failing to keep the smirk off her face, she advanced, forcing him to the outskirts of the clearing.
Steel rang as the gravel beneath their boots crunched.
She unleashed three rapid slashes, her blood humming with satisfaction.
Vaelin moved to the side, smooth as water, and Isla staggered, her jab hitting open air.
Barely managing to block his next strike, her sweaty palm slipped on the grip of her sword as she recovered her balance.
Adjusting the angle of the blade, she aimed an answering blow at his left, but suddenly, he was behind her.
She blinked, panting as she turned. He grinned, then charged.
Gritting her teeth she met blow after blow, her wrist stung, the clash of steel vibrating through her forearm and into her shoulder.
She ducked an overhead swipe, then charged forward with a vicious slash of her own.
Vaelin dodged easily, but she had successfully disrupted his rhythm.
Smirking triumphantly, she stepped forward to land her final blow — and landed face first in the dirt.
A low chuckle sounded from above and she rolled on to her elbows, glaring up at the fae.
A strange tingling ebbed away around her ankles as Vaelin extended a hand to her.
Begrudgingly, she allowed him to pull her up, stumbling forward as she rose.
A large hand steadied her at her shoulder and she glanced up at him, close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead. She glared at him, still breathless.
“You tripped me,” she accused.
“I did.”
“Rude.”
A half smile curled at the left side of his mouth, revealing that elusive dimple again. She glanced to where his hand still clasped her shoulder, and an involuntary shiver ran through her.
He frowned, quickly releasing her. “How are your wounds?” he asked, his tone serious.
“What?” Isla said, distracted. “Oh. The rubs? They’re fine. Itchy. Let’s go again.” With effort, she stepped back, as though pulling herself away from a magnetic force. Vaelin nodded, shaking his head slightly as if he, too, needed to re-focus.
Again, they traded glancing blows, moving around each other as though in a deadly dance.
As Vaelin aimed high, Isla dropped suddenly to the ground, fisting a handful of gravel and letting it fly.
The fae recoiled, staggering, a hand thrown up to cover his face as he exclaimed in pain.
Isla’s triumphant smile slipped off her face as she let her sword arm fall to her side.
She moved towards him, already apologizing - Gods, had it scratched his eye?
In a blink, Vaelin stood, sending Isla’s blade skidding across the clearing with a single disarming strike.
Hand stinging, she caught a flash of his smirk before he spun behind her, hooking an arm through her elbows, holding her tight against his chest in an immovable armlock.
She twisted in his hold, breathing coming hard, struggling to catch his eye, “Not fair.”
His breath skated over the shell of her ear as he chuckled, “It wasn’t supposed to be.”