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 thatshe 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."
The praise got to Maeve in a strange way, and a glowing orb seemed to light up in her chest at the words, brighter even than the sun that was now shining down upon them. She was not used to feeling pride, only embarrassment, fear, and shame, but now she allowed herself to accept the well-earned praise with grace. Perhaps there was a time and place that she could be proud to just be herself, and perhaps that time was now, and that place here.
"Cannae believe Mary beat ye down!" someone called, and Mary turned to see Ferda and Darren standing together at the side of the training grounds. Darren was the one who had called out, teasing his friend. Darren winked and added, "Until Cailean got ye pinned on the ground, Mary. I suppose ye're nae a miracle worker."
"The real miracle is that ye made it out of bed before lunch," Cailean called back, and general laughter sounded from the crowd that had grown around them. Many had arrived during their fight, and Maeve was stunned to see how many people had been watching their little bout — and cheered forher.
"She's a danger," one of the woman warriors called out. "Mary, I'll send ye after me husband if he keeps up stealin' the blanket every night."
"Nae wonder Senan took ye in," a man added. "I bet ye threatened him with that sword and tripped him intae a burn. He was probably drippin' wet and ready tae drown when he finally agreed tae take Mary as a student."
That caused much more laughter around them, but rather than taking the teasing personally, the buoyancy of the success and praise made Maeve see it for what it was — good-natured banter from people who might soon be her friends. Maybe even her family.
Ferda called out, "Cailean, are ye needin' a wee rest after that?"
"Rest is for those who've got time," Cailean retorted. "And it seems like I'm gonnae be quite busy for the rest of the day." He nodded toward Maeve. "After all, I've got a new student tae train — if she doesn't overbalance me again."
"Ye'd better watch yerself," Maeve told him daringly, inspired by the lighthearted mood around her and her own good mood. She theatrically pointed her sword toward him and said, "If I have me own way, ye'll never be fully balanced again."
Cailean grinned. "Is that so? Bring it on."
The morning's training was not just the two of them, which Maeve was reluctant to admit made her secretly disappointed. She'd enjoyed the bond that she and Cailean had formed in that strange, intimate battle, but she knew that she needed to be flexible and ready to take whatever was thrown at her. Cailean organized the gathered warriors into pairs, matching her up with Fergus Bruce first, then Darren, then another rebel and another.
As the morning wore on, Maeve became more achingly aware of the bruises on her body and the tiredness in her mind, but her spirit did not falter. She threw herself into each battle with renewed determination, taking the blows when she failed but allowing herself to feel pride and satisfaction when her clever tactics or quick dodges succeeded. Unfortunately, as the morning wore on, the former was more noticeable than the latter. She was not a trained warrior, and exhaustion quickly began to overtake her.
