She alone can get inside Newkirk Castle.
But God forbid she goes in defenseless.
Shallow lacerations bleed from Quinn’s bare chest, the blood lost among the black, vine-like markings left behind after he made his deal with the demon. The gash across his right cheek looks deep, and when he gives a curt shake of his head, sweat sprays like raindrops from his shaggy, dark hair.
Quinn lands a strike that opens a nasty gash across Rapunzel’s left biceps. Dax and I know better than to rush to her defense.
She would try to separate our heads from our shoulders if we dared to interfere.
It would also defeat the purpose of her learning how to defend herself.
Thankfully, she’s doing fine on her own.
Momentum drives her sword arm sweeping in a wide arc. She sucks in a sharp breath at the damage and glances at the fat line of blood that seeps from the wound. Then she lowers her head and tucks her chin, taking Quinn’s measure through the fringe of her thick lashes.
Her eyes spark with green fire as she shakes her head, sending her long golden braid swaying behind her. “That wasn’t nice, Quinn Redgrave.”
Her audacity is stunning.
A work of art.
Quinn smirks. “You don’t like me nice.”
“True.”
The magic infused in the golden strands of her knee-length hair closes the wound almost instantly. Quinn’s take longer, but only by a little. Together, however, they make for a nearly indestructible pair. The only evidence of Rapunzel’s injury is the torn and blood-stained sleeve of her white shirt.
Not too long ago—three months, four days, to be exact—Rapunzel considered her gift a curse. Shame still claws at me when I think of how I’m one of the reasons she hated her healing magic. That guilt is a crushing weight on my shoulders. It’s a constant reminder that I blamed her for King John’s sins.
The bastard murdered my parents. He’s destroying Rygard in his manic hunt to find Rapunzel. John even captured Sybil—the witch who kidnapped Rapunzel and cursed an entire forest to keep her hidden.
Now John has the witch locked up tight in Newkirk. Our spies told us she cast him only a single spell—the poison that nearly killed Quinn. Who knows what more she’ll do for him or what secrets she’ll spill after enough time and torture?
Transfixed, Dax and I watch Rapunzel. She took to the sword as if she were born to wield one. Albeit hers is custom crafted for her tiny hands. But myGod. She swings the weapon with astounding grace and purpose.
She advances when she sees an opening, putting Quinn on the defensive. The usually ill-tempered former knight widens his grin. The expression lifts the scar that cuts down his left cheek, giving him a menacing edge that doesn’t intimidate Rapunzel.
“Andniceis Dax’s weakness, Princess,” Quinn snarls at her. “Not mine.”
While that’s true, I know Quinn finds it as appalling as we do to train Rapunzel since none of us willingly want to harm a hair on her pretty head. Especially knowing the cost of damaging those enchanted waves. It’s more challenging for him, given the tight rein he must keep on his strength.
“Tell me, what’s your weakness, Quinn Redgrave?”
He gives her a barely perceptible shake of the head. “I don’t have one. Now fucking hurt me, Princess,if you can.”
Lie.
Everyone has a vulnerability, even Quinn.
But his taunt works because Rapunzel’s upper lip curls into a snarl as she charges, unhindered by skirts. For practicality’s sake, she wears breeches while training. Quinn could swat her away as easily as he would a fly, but he allows her an opening to see if she’ll take it. Damn it all if she does. The woman is incredible as she performs a feints blow, then follows it with a kick to Quinn’s stomach. The perfectly executed move has him giving her a curt nod of approval. Rather than retreat when Quinn counterattacks, she parries. Spins. Slashes. Her blade opens a deep gash across his abdomen.
“Oh, look.” Panting, Rapunzel adjusts her hold on the weapon’s hilt, keeping the sword at the ready. “It bleeds.”
“Well played.” Quinn’s smooth voice reverberates across the lists. But like us, he knows it will take more than a few sword lessons to defeat the king. It’s why we bring her out to the lists each day, pushing Rapunzel past her limit. Why we practice this dance of attack and defense.
A dance of kill or be killed.
“Remind me what I told you about fairness in battle.” The sharpness of Quinn’s tone is tantamount to that of his sword.
