Maeve had spent her entire life under the thumb of men who thought themselves above her. It had started with her father, then her husband, then the prison guards and Bill, and all the minor men in between. She knew what it looked like when a man was posturing, when he was trying to make a point, and when he was throwing his weight around in an attempt to be intimidating. She'd faced too many blows and too much pain to not know the difference between when a man really wanted to hurt her and when his real intention was to scare her and exert his power.
Cailean was doing a good job at puffing up his chest and causing her nerves to jangle, but not good enough. She saw right through him. She didn't know why he wanted to be rid of her so badly, or why he was so against her training as a warrior, but she knew one thing: she was done being scared of anyone, especially of men. She would not allow him to scare her off, not when she'd faced so many worse fears in her life and escaped all the stronger for it.
Maeve moved to the weapons rack, and after a short time perusing her options, she reached for a long, thin sword similar to the type that Senan had encouraged her to use. It would not be as powerful as many of the options, but it would give her the agility she needed to aim and evade as she required throughout the fight — so long as she could avoid the punishing blows that would be coming her way from Cailean's huge weapon of choice. He made a small sound when she selected the sword, but Maeve couldn't tell if it was approval, surprise, disappointment, or something else entirely.
She moved back into position. "This is me selection," she said, showing him the sword. It wasn't blunted like his, she noticed, and she wondered if he'd make her change it, but all he did was shrug.
"Are ye ready?" he asked her.
Was she? Maeve knew she had to take a moment and mentally prepare herself if she hoped to even stand a chance. She was all too aware that people were arriving and eyes were increasingly upon her, and while she didn't care about embarrassment, she knew that now was her best chance to prove herself. She couldn't beat Cailean in an all-out fight, she didn't need to be a genius to know that. But Senan had taught her over the weeks that there were many ways to win a fight, and that she stood just as much chance as anyone, so long as her mindandbody remained sharp.
So what was the angle here? What could she do?
Maeve glanced around her. The sun was still not fully up in the sky yet, though the brightness of the rising orb caused her to squint as she glanced at it, and she quickly turned away. She looked next to Cailean and saw that his eyes were red with the outlines of dark circles beneath them. Could it be that he was tired? Had he perhaps not slept well? A glance at the way he held himself confirmed her thoughts; this was a man suffering from fatigue, though upon reflection it may go deeper than just one night.
She knew fatigue and sleeplessness, perhaps better than most, and usually, she would have been flooded with sympathy. Now, though, she couldn't afford such a thing; all she could do was try to work out a way to use this to her advantage.
The idea came in an instant. She shifted slightly, positioning herself so that the rising sun was directly behind her, giving her the blessing of shadow while Cailean would have to bear the full brunt of the morning light in his eyes.
"Come on, then," she called. "I'm ready."
"I disagree," Cailean replied.
Then, in a flash, he was on her. He darted forward, more quickly than she could have ever expected a man of his size to be able to move, his training sword held high. Her eyes, trained from years of evasion as well as the weeks of honing by Senan's guidance, focused hard on his movements, and as he bore down upon her with the flat side of his sword, she darted out of the way. He didn't even stumble, turning the blow to the side and swiping it toward her, but Maeve was ready, throwing up her own sword in an awkward but effective way, blocking his attack.
Cailean grunted, and the fight began in earnest. He was relentless in his attack, and though Maeve was quick and well-attuned to his movements, she felt herself quickly being pushed to the limits of her current strength and skill. She took a few blows, but managed to stay on her feet, avoiding most of his major attacks and successfully remaining in the game.
She caught the look in his eyes, and frustration filled her as she realized that this wasn't even Cailean's maximum effort. She wasn't foolish; she knew she was no match for his years of experience and skill, never mind his overall size, but she had hoped he'd at least take her seriously. Was she not worth at least that? Did she mean so little to him, to the world, to everyone that she wasn't even worth the effort it took to fight? She knew how irrational that train of thought was, and that just made her even more annoyed, this time more at herself than at anyone else.
Renewed by this frustration, she applied herself more seriously to the battle, wielding her sword with all her strength, dodging and twisting and avoiding his attacks with everything she had. Then, as a crucial moment arrived and he bore down upon her once more, she predicted that he would swing to the left and dodged to the right — and she was correct! The power he'd put behind the swing caused him to overbalance, and for a moment, he lost focus and had to steady himself.
A surprised cheer sounded from behind them, but Maeve didn't allow it to distract her. She knew that she had to stay focused; she'd managed to win this little moment of victory, but it wouldn't be too long before Cailean was back on his feet.
Sure enough, before Maeve had a chance to reorient herself in the wake of her victory, Cailean steadied himself and was upon her. With a sweep of his sword toward her legs, he sent her tumbling to the ground, and then a moment later pinned her in place with his body.
"Yield?" he whispered in her ear.
The closeness of being pinned to the ground by him caused a swell of panic to rise within Maeve. This was how Bill had held her down when he was going to attack her, and the association was making her body prickle with fear and her nerves jangle and scream at her to get away. She was about to punch, kick, scream at him, and do whatever it took to escape, but then she caught the expression on his face above her.
He was watching her with a faint smile — not a smug one from his victory, but a genuine smile, as though he was impressed with what she'd achieved so far. There was a gentleness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, and, unexpectedly, that gaze soothed the panic that was rising inside Maeve and her racing heart slowly returned to a normal rate.
Cailean pushed against the ground and got back to his feet, then held out a hand to help her up. "Nicely played," he said.
Maeve lay there for a moment, staring up at him. The sun was glistening on his now sweat-covered torso, highlighting the scars that crisscrossed across his body. What would it be like, she wondered, if she bore as many scars on the outside as she did on the inside? And how many of Cailean's scars could she not see? He'd clearly removed the shirt as part of his intimidation tactic, but now that he was smiling at her, she found herself drawn to him, wanting to explore each of those scars and their stories.
With a start, Maeve caught herself, blushing furiously as she tried to understand what she'd just been thinking. She hoped that nobody noticed how hot her face had gotten, or if they did, that they wrote it off as exertion. She took the offered hand and allowed him to haul her to her feet.
"Ye did well," Cailean told her once she was standing again. "Better than I expected, for sure."
"Perhaps yer expectations should have been higher," Maeve replied. "Senan picked me for a reason."
This caused Cailean's smile to grow, and then he actually laughed — the first genuine sound that Maeve had heard from him since arriving. "Aye, perhaps ye're right," he agreed.
They both looked down at the same time and realized that their hands were still joined. Strangely, neither of them felt the urge to pull away too quickly, though eventually Maeve let go.
"So, ye'll train me?" she asked.
"I already said I would," Cailean said. "I expected ye tae run off, but ye didnae. And actually, ye've got quite the wit about ye, well done on yer tactics. Perhaps we'll spend some time on trainin' each other, if in different ways."
