‘But what if I hurt you?’
Alarik barked a laugh. ‘I think I’ll survive.’
Scowling now, she crouched to pick up her sword. And dipped a little to the right. ‘It’s heavy.’
It was, in fact, the lightest sword in the entire palace.
He kept this to himself.
‘Walk around with it,’ he said, palming his own sword. ‘Shift your weight from foot to foot, like this. Lift it high and low. You’ll get used to it.’
The wrangler did as she was told, her fingers flexing around the hilt as she tried to acclimatise to its weight. All the while, she stared warily at the gleaming blade, as though it were a snake that might strike at any moment.
Alarik bit back his smile. ‘Any better?’
She looked up at him again. ‘A bit.’
‘Great.’
It was going to be a long day.
‘Let’s start with your battle stance.’ Stowing his own sword, he moved around her. She inhaled sharply when he rested his hands on her shoulders. His grip was just light enough to feel her tremble. Or perhaps it was his own hands, betraying him.
He wasn’t nervous. Of course not. The king of Gevra didn’tgetnervous.
He just … didn’t know how to be this close to her without closing his eyes and breathing her in.
He resisted the urge, even though she was facing the other way … even as the scent of her – wildflowers and jasmine – tickled his nose.
Focus, you simpering fool.
He cleared his throat. ‘Feet shoulder-width apart.’
She widened her stance.
‘Now turn slightly, until your dominant foot is facing forward.’ He moved with her. ‘Good. Keep your back straight.’ She stiffened under his touch. ‘Crouch, a little. Yes, just like that. Raise your sword.’
She raised her sword.
Freezing hell.
Her grip was terrible.
‘Your wrist is shaking.’
‘It’sheavy,’ she protested.
‘I watched you carry a fully-grown wolf like a sack of grain last week,’ he said, pointedly.
She tossed a scowl over her shoulder. ‘He was in pain. He’d hurt his paw.’
Alarik rolled his eyes. ‘Well, imagine someone is about to hurtyou. On a giant battlefield filled with blood and gore and the dying screams of—’
‘I get it.’
‘Hold still.’ He stepped in close, until her back was flush against his chest and the crown of her head brushed the underside of his chin.
Briefly, his eyes shuttered closed.
