He was a quick learner. Perhaps he’d teach Eamon some humility before long.
Eamon rolled his shoulders. There was something lethal in the way he moved, all coiled muscle and thinly restrained violence.
I suddenly felt a little apprehensive about my brother’s well-being. Eamon took it easy on me, fearful of Ryker’s wrath. Callum, however, would receive no such reprieve.
“Come on then,” he said, motioning for my brother to advance.
Callum entered the training yard, his sword gripped in both hands. The tip wavered — nerves, maybe, or excitement. It was hard to tell with him.
“Loosen your hold,” I called out, settling onto the stone bench that bordered the sparring ring.
Eamon’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Don’t coddle him, Cadence. He needs to learn on his own.”
Callum adjusted his stance, loosening his grip on the hilt. He’d been practicing the forms Eamon had shown him. It was clear by the way he positioned his feet, the angle of his shoulders.
“Ready?” Eamon called, though he was already advancing.
The first crack of wood echoed across the courtyard, sharp and unforgiving. Callum stumbled back, his face flushed with effort.
Eamon had barely moved, just a lazy strike that sent my brother reeling. He kept his sword pointed toward the ground as he watched my brother, a smirk spreading across his face. Callum circled him like a hunter sizing up his prey, but Eamon only grinned wider.
“Any day now.” The taunting lilt to Eamon’s voice had my brother scowling.
His knuckles were white from how hard he gripped his practice blade, and I could see the tension building in his shoulders. He was letting Eamon get under his skin, exactly what I’d warned him not to do.
“Don’t listen to him,” I called out, earning a sharp look from Eamon. “He’s just trying to unsettle you.”
That got a reaction.
Eamon’s eyes flashed in warning. “Getting into the mind of your opponent is a valuable skill, woman.” Suddenly, his sword was in motion. He cut through the air with deadly precision.
Callum barely raised his blade in time, stumbling under the intensity of the hit.
“Footwork,” I shouted, unable to help myself. “Keep your weight centered.”
“Cadence,” Eamon growled. “Let him learn on his own. Pain is the best teacher.”
Callum adjusted his grip and came at Eamon again, this time with more control. His sword flew through the air in a wide arc, but Eamon sidestepped the blow, bringing his own weapon around to tap Callum’s ribs.
“Dead,” Eamon announced with a chuckle.
My brother ground his teeth, and I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw.
This was far from over.
“Again.”
My brother’s demanding tone lit up Eamon’s entire face, and he raised his hand, beckoning him forward.
“Oh, good, I didn’t miss it,” a masculine voice said from beside me, and I jumped.
I had been so fixated on the sparring match in front of me that I hadn’t heard Riordan approach.
“Please tell me your brother is going to ditch his tunic sometime soon. I can already imagine how he would look with sweat dripping down his tanned muscles.”
“Leave Callum alone,” I chastised, but there was no bite to it.
Riordan turned his storm-grey eyes on me, his bottom lip extended in a pout. “I need some help here, sweetheart. I’ve been charming, seductive, and sickeningly sweet, but nothing works on him. Tell me what a man’s got to do to win your brother’s favor.”
