“But first—” Luka slowly walked over to the table and rang for the butler. “Bring me my other boot,” he said with a smile, as the butler gaped at the leather sock prosthetic on his employer’s foot, before looking up with a smile.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Ten minutes later, Luka had put on his left boot again, and they were walking out of the front door, Luka’s cane rapping on the cobblestones.
Maya had warned him he would need to keep it with him, and Luka had only smiled. She was afraid he would tire himself out on his first try with the sock prosthetic, and then set himself back when he wanted to try again. She had offered him her elbow, in a reversal of the roles that society dictated for them, and he’d grinned as he’d taken it.
“Don’t take me anywhere too scandalous,” he grinned, and she laughed back, his good humor infectious.
As they slowly ambled around the estate, side by side, they reached the large training grounds behind the house.
“Is this where you used to train as a child?” Maya asked, looking around the large, empty grounds, filled with sand and a few scraggly patches of grass and brown dirt.
“Sword fighting and mage spells,” Luka said, now leaning on his cane a little. She could feel the pull in her elbow. It meant that he was getting tired, his foot must have been painful, even though he gave no indication of it.
“How about we go back—”
“How about a match between us?”
“What?”
“You with your sword, and me with my spells,” Luka said, turning to face her. “Come on, it’ll be just like old times.”
“But Luka, your foot—”
“Is fine,” he said firmly. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
“But I don’t have a sword,” she said helplessly.
“I’ll ask one of the footmen to get one for you,” he said carelessly. Sure enough, Maya looked around, and saw a couple of footmen standing near the side doors to the house. Luka raised a hand and waved one of them over.
“Get the Lady von Rakhmonov a sword from the training room,” he said imperiously.
“And the breastplate on my workbench in my lab, please,” Maya cut in. “My maid, Vennala, will know which one I mean.”
“Very good, my lady.”
As soon as the footman left, Luka turned worried eyes on her. “You want to duel in that thing?”
“How else will I know what else is wrong with it?” Maya asked. “If I want to send soldiers out into the battlefields with the armor, it will need extensive testing.” She firmed her jaw. “I won’t make the same mistakes again.”
“But—”
The footman’s return interrupted them. Maya accepted the sword from him, but Luka took the breastplate in his hand before she could take it from him.
“Wait. Let me put a few quick wards on this. At least enough so that none of my spells catch it.”
When Luka was done, he helped Maya shrug off her jacket, which the footman took from her. He soon shrugged off his own jacket, standing before her in his waistcoat and shirt.
As Luka strapped her into the breastplate, his mouth was set in a tight line of disapproval.
Maya took up position across from him. His face looked a little tight, and little lines of pain were around his mouth now.
“Ready?” she called out, as she raised her sword.
“Ready.”
For a long moment, Maya didn’t move. She held her sword at the ready, her eyes fixed on her opponent. Luka stood with his feet firmly planted on the ground, and slowly, he brought his hands out, fingers outstretched.
