I blinked. “Five minutes for what?”
Ryker rose to his feet as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at me. That infuriating smirk still in place. “To get dressed. Wear something you can move in.”
“I’m not going anywhere except the bathing chamber, now get out.”
“Did you forget that these are alsomychambers, Temptress?”
“What’s yours is mine,husband.”
Ryker hummed low in his throat. “Idolike the sound of my name on your tongue.”
Frustrated, I reached for a pillow and threw it at his face. “Get out!”
He ducked, dodging the projectile. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Then he turned and walked out, leaving only his cryptic command behind.
Typical.
I stayed in bed for a heartbeat longer, but knowing Ryker as I did, I knew refusing him would not end well for me, and I wasn’t in the mood.
I flung off the blankets and swore under my breath as I stood. Every bruise pulsed, reminding me once again of how reckless I’d been to trust Eleanor.
Five minutes later, I stepped into the hall dressed in a simple tunic and fighting leathers, to find Ryker leaning against the stone wall, cocky as ever.
His eyes swept over me in a quick, clinical once-over. “That’ll do.”
“You’re dangerously close to getting stabbed again.”
His grin widened. “Let’s save the stabbing for the yard.”
“What?”
Instead of answering me, Ryker turned on his heels and started down the hallway, beckoning me to follow him with a curl of his fingers. We walked in silence; the only sound was the dull echo of our boots against the cold stone.
Servants flitted around like apparitions, there one moment and gone the next, in their desperation to keep out of our path. I remained a step behind Ryker, out of caution rather than deference. Being near him always felt like standing too close to a wild animal.
When we stepped out into the training yard, my stomach twisted. Despite the early hour, the scent of iron and sweat hung in the air. Somewhere nearby, the rhythmic clank of blades echoed, and I scanned my surroundings until my gaze landed on three figures.
Riordan, Eamon, and Malesh stood in a cluster around the outside of the sparring area. They all turned as we entered.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Riordan beamed while Eamon and Malesh both inclined their heads.
“What’s going on?” I cursed myself for failing to hide the hesitation in my tone.
Ryker strode over to a rack and grabbed two practice swords. He tossed one at me. I caught it, barely. “We’re sparring,” he said.
“What?”
“Is that the only word in your vocabulary this morning, Temptress?”
“I’m not in the mood for your games, Ryker,” I said with a snarl.
Before I could blink, Ryker was on me, pressing the wooden hilt of the sword farther into my palm. “This is not a game, Cadence. You need to be able to defend yourself.”
“I can defend myself just fine.” I held up my wrists to him so he could see the cuffs secured there. “Looks to me like you’re the one who needs protecting, otherwise there would be no need for such pretty jewelry,” I taunted.
Ryker’s lip curled. “Nice try, Temptress.”
