She did a few slices of the sword through the air, marveling at how easily she took to it. “How does this not snap in half when someone hits it? It weighs nothing.”
“Sorcery,” Vade said plainly. “I don’t know how it works. It just does. Now, show me your fighting stance.”
“You’re going to spar with an axe?”
“I can wield it just as well as a sword,” he said in a tone that was more confident than cocky. “Show me your stance.”
Orelia stood so her legs were slightly wider than her shoulders with her left leg set ahead of her right. She squatted down and lifted the blade with a two-handed grip to protect her face.
“Move your feet in a little closer. Your stance is too wide,” he said.
“But I don’t feel as balanced this way.”
“Just try it for a few movements.”
She did as he said, but the stance felt awkward and unstable. Looking at the placement of her feet, Orelia realized she’d never thanked him for the boots. “Thank you for these, by the way,” she said, nodding at her shoes. “They’re incredibly comfortable, and the leather is superb quality. I can pay you back.”
He flicked his axe at her. “Your old ones were shit.”
Orelia sighed. “You know, you could just say ‘you’re welcome’ and not ruin it by being your grumpy self.”
He smirked. “But then I wouldn’t be me.”
She rolled her eyes, chuckling softly.
“Enough talk, witch. Show me your fighting stance, and I’ll show you mine,” Vade taunted.
The king’s executioner stood perfectly still, watching her with the focus of an apex predator. Surely no one who ever saw him like this lived to see another day. A chill washed over her at the dark intent settling into his features. “Come at me,” his deep voice commanded.
Tommen had told her to keep an eye on your opponent’s feet. Notice where their balance was, if it was on the heel or toe, and adjust accordingly. Vade stood flat-footed, so she wasn’t sure what to do.
When Orelia stepped to the side, Vade mirrored her. She walked in a slow circle with the fae matching each of her movements. When she finally got the courage to lunge at him, he effortlessly knocked her sword away.
“Your eyes gave you away,” he said. “Don’t look where you’re going to strike. Make me sweat. Make me unsure of what you’re going to do.”
“If I don’t look at where I’m going to hit you, how will I hit my mark?”
“Trust your blade to go where you need it to.”
He said the words like they made sense, which they didn’t. Vade waited for her to move, and they continued walking in a calculated circle. Without taking her eyes off his, Orelia envisioned the sword landing on the right side of his ribs. She took a few more steps and prepared to strike, but he switched directions.
“Adapt, Orelia.” Vade lunged, and she barely got her sword up in time to save her shoulder.
“You’re too fast,” she said, scrambling to regain her balance.
He came at her again, and she jumped back, her grip slipping. Vade knocked her weapon to the ground, and the head of his axe was instantly under her chin. “Dead.”
She swallowed carefully.
He stepped back and flicked his weapon toward hers. “The sword should be an extension of your arm. You should be one with it, feeling its movements like it’s part of your body. It needs to become second nature.”
Orelia picked up the sword, wiped the dirt off the grip, and traced the intricate etchings in the hilt with her eyes. She’d never seen a sorcery-made weapon up close, and a part of her was torn as she admired it for its beauty, knowing the illegality of such an object. “I’ll need a lot more practice before I ever get to that ability.”
“Then we’ll practice. I need to know you can hold your own in case we ever get into a situation where I can’t protect you.”
She knew he was referencing her mishap at the Pony, but she didn’t dare bring it up.
“The next two days will be in the forest until we reach Fink, and I don’t feel like dying just because you don’t know how to wield a sword properly.”
