“Good,” he said. “You certainly look fine.”
His words sent a frisson of heat rushing down my arms. “Stop talking about what I look like.”
“All right,” he said. “If you’re not hungry, maybe you’d prefer to spar with me first? We could work up an appetite together.”
I stopped to stare at him. We had reached the empty central training yard, which was dusted with snow. Small flakes danced through the air, and the sky was a dark gray canvas, suffused with the light of the Mist.
“Spar,” I repeated. “With you.”
“I’m not a complete novice, you know,” he said. “My parents were both soldiers.”
“Andyouare a librarian.”
He put a hand to his chest. “As if we librarians are limited only to might of the mind!”
“Fine.” I stormed across the yard toward the weapons racks, feeling suddenly galvanized. If I couldn’t fight a chimaera, I could fight him.It wouldn’t be enough—Gareth was no Olden beast—but if I didn’t dosomethingI’d burst, and if I got to knock that smile off his face, so much the better.
I retrieved my favorite sparring staff, realizing belatedly that it was the one I’d used to beat Brigid to the ground. Someone had cleaned it. Maybe Cira. The thought twisted my stomach, but I couldn’t back down now.
A rustle of fabric made me turn to see Gareth stripping off first his professor’s robe, then the collared shirt underneath. He tossed both garments aside, ran his hands through his tousled blond hair, then seemed to remember he was still wearing his glasses and set them carefully on top of his discarded clothes.
I tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare at his leanly muscled arms, the broad plane of his chest, his slim waist. My fingers itched to glide over the muscles of his back, which were certainly not the most impressive ones I’d ever seen but nevertheless hinted at a strength I would never have supposed he possessed.Thiswas the man I’d danced with in Fairhaven?
My cheeks burning, I tore my gaze from his body and blurted out, “Why did you take off your shirt?”
I shouldn’t have said a word. I shouldn’t have rewarded him with a reaction. But it was too late now.
He shrugged, grinning at me. “I’m warm.”
And so am I, now.I wanted to slap myself. “It’s cold out.”
Gareth grabbed a staff that someone had left leaning against the stone colonnade. Distracted, feeling a little wild, I made a mental note to remind my squadron of the importance of proper weapons care.
“What can I say?” Gareth said, still with that godsdamned grin on his face. “My blood runs hot.”
Then he raised his staff and lunged at me.
My training kicked in, my earlier desperate anger roaring back tolife. I met his staff with mine and shoved him hard, trying to knock him off his feet. But he was faster than I thought he would be and a smarter fighter. He stepped back right as I shoved at him, and the lack of resistance surprised me, making me stumble.
I recovered quickly, spun around, and struck just as he did. Our staffs crashed together, and our eyes locked, and for a moment I hesitated—shaken by his nearness, spooked by the memory of the last time I’d fought in this yard, not even an hour ago. Brigid’s bloody, broken face and Cira’s horrified one flashed through my mind.
And suddenly all I could think was,Don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him.Just a moment of hesitation, but it was enough. With a quick step back and a sharp thrust of his staff, he knocked mine from my hands. It went clattering across the yard and rolled into the shadows.
I raised my eyebrows, pretending cold approval. But my heart was pounding, and I felt short of breath, even though two minutes of sparring should not have come close to winding me.
“A son of soldiers indeed,” I managed to say.
Gareth was panting, his skin flushed and already glistening with sweat, but his expression was eager, fierce. “A captain and a lieutenant general.”
“Your mother is a sage, like you?”
“A stone elemental,” he replied, following me with his eyes as I retrieved my staff. “Father was a sage. A strategist with a brilliant mind. Much like my own.”
A meanness reared up in me. I regarded him coolly. “Do they know about what happened in Mhorghast?”
Gareth looked surprised. Then his expression hardened. “Mother does. My father died when I was a boy.”
“Farrin never told me that.”
