With some additional men from Vera, they could be evenly matched.
But Teryn didn’t want even.
He wanted—needed—to win.
Dark thoughts clouded his mind, taking him back to Centerpointe Rock. To Morkai’s dishonorable actions during the meeting. How he’d signaled battle without giving them a chance to negotiate the terms for war. What he’d done made Teryn sick with rage.
Yet as he thrust his spear and imagined his faceless enemy on the other side, he didn’t feel nearly as sick when he considered doing something similar himself.
Darius’ threat was a matter of power, magic, and desperation.
Maybe only equal measures of power, magic, and desperation could lead to victory.
And Teryn had one idea that might allow him to catch Darius unawares. To end the battle before it had begun.
He wasn’t sure he could even do it.
It might damn him to the seven hells.
But if it saved Khero’s future, he’d risk the stain on his soul.
40
Cora found Teryn in the armory. The shuffling of his feet and the sound of his heavy breaths reached her ears just before she rounded the corner. He didn’t notice her approach. She kept her feet silent so as not to disturb his practice and leaned against the wall just past the threshold.
His pale hair was tied back, revealing a determined look on his face. He wore only trousers, his nightshirt draped over a rack of polearms. Sweat glistened over his taut muscles, a sight that wasn’t at all unpleasant. She studied the contraction of his abdomen as he pivoted and slashed, the bulge of his biceps as he thrusted. She’d seen him train with a sword and hunt with a spear, but she hadn’t watched him train quite like this—with focus and zeal and a deadly skill that was a bit terrifying yet…strangely erotic.
She folded her arms and leaned her head against the wall, her gaze sweeping over the length of him. Mother Goddess, she was lucky this man was hers. Not that she’d gotten a chance to enjoy her husband quite yet. They’d had their night of passion before their wedding, but they still hadn’t had a true wedding night. As she watched him move gracefully over the training floor, she realized just how unfair that was. Here Teryn was practicing for a battle they couldn’t avoid while she’d spent…however long she’d been gone establishing an alliance. They should have been wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying the life of newlyweds, not facing war.
“Are you going to keep staring?” Teryn said, startling her. His gaze was fixed on his imaginary enemy as he sidestepped, then thrust. After a final slash and thrust, he angled his body to face her and planted the butt of his spear on the ground. A corner of his mouth lifted. “Or are you going to kiss me?”
A thrilling warmth ignited in her chest at the challenge in his eyes, the taunting in his voice. If he could still make her feel like that amidst everything that was going on, maybe there was hope for them yet. For them to enjoy some semblance of newlywed life.
She raced over to him and he met her halfway, grasping her around the waist with his free arm and pressing his lips to hers. Her palm rested over the slick skin of his pectoral. Just as quickly as he’d kissed her, he pulled away.
His expression turned bashful, but he held her eyes. “Sorry. I’m sweaty, aren’t I?”
“I don’t entirely mind,” she said with a coy look, though she had to admit, her lips tasted like salt.
He released her waist and strode to the rack of polearms, exchanging his spear for the shirt he’d hung there. She was almost disappointed until she realized he was simply drying off. A wicked smile curved her lips. She wanted to look at him like this a little longer. Extend the playful mood he’d begun.
She swept closer to him, evading his detection while he was drying his face with his shirt. As he brought the linen article down and found her standing so close, his eyes went wide. She blinked up at him, an innocent expression as she reached for the hilt hidden behind her back.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she pulled the dagger from her golden sash and flicked it to his neck. He flinched only slightly but otherwise held perfectly still.
“Don’t let me interrupt your training, love of mine,” she said.
His eyes simmered, whether with challenge or desire she knew not. All she knew was how it tightened her belly. His lips tugged into a wry grin and he dropped his shirt to the floor. Then, in a flash of movement, he whirled away and retrieved a wooden training dagger from a nearby stand.
They circled each other, and Cora considered whether she should dive for a training blade too. But they were both skilled enough to defend themselves and know when to hold back. She made the first move, striking with her dagger, and he parried her blade with ease. Swiveling to the side, she aimed for his ribs. He caught her wrist in his hand, angled her arm behind her, and twisted her around until her back was to his chest, her knife hand between them. He pressed his practice blade beneath her chin.
“There’s something familiar about this position,” Teryn said, bringing his lips close to her ear.
She shuddered at the sound and recalled a moment from their first meeting. He’d wrenched her arm behind her that time too, pulling her against his chest, and asked her to stop trying to stab him. The closeness of his voice had caught her off guard then, but now it made her want to get even closer.
She tried to get free the same way she had then, by striking his instep with her heel. Predicting her move, he widened his stance, but he loosened his hold enough to allow her to wrench her knife hand from his grip. She whirled to face him again, striking. He parried, shifted, parried again. At her next strike, he caught her wrist and pulled her to him once more. This time, her dagger wasn’t between them, leaving her back flush to his chest. He held her wrist in place while securing his forearm over her middle. His grip was firm enough to hold her still yet soft enough to feel more like an embrace.
She didn’t struggle as he brought his lips to the lobe of her ear. Instead, she angled her head, daring him to land a blow with either his mouth or his wooden blade. Instead, he whispered, “What are you wearing, by the way?”
