“Everyone has a tell. Let me demonstrate,” he says, holding out his hand for my sword.
To my knowledge, the only person in our family who has faced Ronan directly was my father, and he lost. But Adria is at least as good of a fighter as Father was, and she’s a lot angrier than I ever remember him being.
I back out of the way to watch with Ronan’s guards. Their exchange is lightning quick, so much so that I can barely follow the different attacks they send at each other. But even at this speed, he can see her attacks coming, and he has no trouble parrying them at first.
And then I see it: just as he said, she feints to the left. He doesn’t take the bait like I always do. He anticipates the thrust to the right that always gets me and counters it, nearly getting her neck.
While she’s recovering her footing, he attacks with one decisive downward thrust, which he stops just short of her breastbone.
It looks impressive, but I can’t help but wonder if she let him do that.
“See?” says Ronan. He holds out the sword to me. “Now you try.”
“I think I’ve had enough for today,” says Adria. What is she talking about? She’s barely broken a sweat. “But if you’d like to give Sylvie a few pointers, your majesty…”
Adria, what the fuck? Don’t leave me alone to make a fool out of myself with him.
Unless he gets off on that. Which…actually seems likely, come to think of it.
“With pleasure,” says Ronan. He takes Adria’s sword from her as she smirks in my direction, then he holds my sword out to me again. “Shall we?”
Reluctantly, I take the blade from him. I get into position across the floor, measuring him up. He’s much taller than me, which means he’ll have a major advantage with reach. I’ll need to watch out for attacks from above to my head, but that’s the case when I fight almost anyone, so I’m quite good at defending against them.
What’s more problematic is how good he looks. He’s wearing breeches with a grey linen tunic tucked into them, and the laces on the chest are open, revealing the tan muscle of his chest. It’s an obscene little shirt, and though my mind is trying desperately to focus on the tactics that could keep me from completely humiliating myself in this fight, my body has other ideas.
Extremely not helpful,I tell my nipples as they harden under my own tunic. Thank the gods my leather armor covers my chest. Although the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth lets me know he felt at least some of what I felt just then.
This isn’t a bad thing, I try to remind myself. My body can protect my mind. It can protect my heart. It’s not a betrayal. It’s exactly what I need to happen.
I’m expecting an attack at any moment, but Ronan lowers his sword instead. “Let’s start with fixing your stance.”
I look down at my legs. They’re bent slightly and angled to my opponent as Larus taught me. “What’s wrong with my stance?”
“Nothing if you’re fighting with a rapier. But you should face more forward with this sword, and you probably want to open upmore to get more leverage for cuts. Try a high cut from here first, and then again wider and more forward.”
I try the cut from my current stance. It seems fine, but I am having to fight the blade a bit to keep it straight.
“Now from the front.”
I turn towards the front, but he stops me before I swing. “Not quite. Bend a bit more.”
I bend my knees further.
“Too far,” he says with a laugh. “Can I show you?”
He puts down his sword and begins to walk over. I nod and lower my weapon, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest as he approaches.
He keeps eye contact with me as he holds out his hands towards my legs. I nod again.
He gently places his hands on my hips to guide them into the correct position. I’m holding my breath, and I’m not sure why. “Move this foot forward a bit,” he says, bending to grab my left knee.
His head is dangerously close to the lower half of my body, and it stirs something down there.
Fuck.
He absolutely had to feel whatever the fuckthatwas.
It’s good, it’s good,I tell myself as I move the foot forward. I can’t tell if I’m more aroused or humiliated.
