“It is simply that your wrist is not yet strong enough to bear the weight of the swords clattering,” Hayward said as he followed her across the room, proffering the sword toward her to take it again. “Trust me, you will grow stronger in time.”
“Trust you?” she said. “You are the reason my dress got torn the last time we did this.”
“Me?” he said in mock offence. “You ripped it with your own sword.”
“Clearly it was down to my instructor’s lack of teaching skills,” she said, smirking despite the mask covering her face. She watched as Hayward tipped his head back, with the helmet still on his head and laughed heartily.
“Yes, I suppose I had that coming,” he said as he controlled his mirth. “Now, try again, and don’t drop your wrist so much.”
“Very well.”
“Ready?”
She paused and settled herself, lifting the sword a little as she adopted the wide stance Hayward had taught her. He took the same stance opposite her.
“I’m ready,” she said softly.
“Go,” he instructed, leaping forward again. They had now increased the speed of their practice parrying, so that though they were going through the same maneuvers, yet they were a lot faster, up to speed. Phoebe frequently struggled with trying to maintain her hold on the sword with Hayward’s foil against her own.
She managed to take the first few stances he had taught her with ease, and then push his sword off hers with a rallying lunge.
“Ha! There we go. You did it. And you didn’t drop the sword this time,” he said, gesturing to her with his weapon.
“I guess it does get easier,” she said, though she still flexed her wrist at the soreness that lingered there. “How does this help me to win a fight though? It is just the same routine each time.”
“I am getting you used to the movements for now,” Hayward said as he began to walk around her. “What comes next is thinking of what to do to block someone’s attack.”
“How do you mean?”
“For example. If I did this…” he paused with his words as he lunged toward her, stopping with the sword inches from her padded chest. “What would you do?”
“I would do this,” she did the blocking movement he had taught her.
“Excellent. See? You’re then no longer doing a routine that I have taught you but thinking of the blocking positions to stop someone’s advance.” He walked round her another time. She followed him with her eyes, feeling how close he came these days at will, with barely any hesitation. “What if I did this?”
He did a lunge she hadn’t seen before, attacking from a new position entirely. She jumped away and performed another of the blocking maneuvers he had taught her. It worked perfectly, swiping his sword away.
“You’re learning fast,” he said with a smile. “Shall we take a break?” he asked, lowering the mask from his head. He wandered over to the side of the room where some water had been left for them and he took a few sips. Phoebe followed him with her eyes, watching him for a while as she stood still and fiddled with the foil.
Practicing sword skills with him was having an effect on her she had not expected, one that made her watch every movement he made with care, admiring each move and the athleticism behind it. Feeling her cheeks blush, she turned away and practiced a few lunges, relieved the helmet she had left over her face hid her blush completely.
“Come on, it’s time you took a break, or you’ll exhaust yourself.” His voice sounded a little nearer than she had expected. She turned round, startled to find he was right behind her. As she stumbled back, she brought up the sword, he dodged the blow, but only just, before a ripping sound tore through the air.
He burst out laughing in response, just as Phoebe settled her gaze on what it was that she had done. She had managed to cut through some of the padding on his arm, leaving a little of the forearm exposed.
“Please say I didn’t hurt you?”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he said, controlling his laughter. “Though I rather think you did that on purpose.”
“Would I do such a thing?” she asked innocently.
“Hmm, I am not sure,” he said with a smirk. “You have paid me back for not stopping you from ripping your own clothes now, haven’t you?” he said as he passed her a glass of water to drink.
“I thought you said these swords were blunted.”
“They are, but they are still blades,” he said. “Catch them at the wrong angle and they can cut. As you can so clearly see.” He gestured down to the new opening in the shirt beneath the padding. “You trying to get me out of my shirt, my Lady?”
“Your Grace!” she snapped the words at the flirtation, watching as he laughed even more. “That is hardly proper.”
