I do as he says, and he goes for the same attack after he parries, but I take a step back and knock his sword away.
“Very good.”
“As long as my opponent tells me what he’s going to do beforehand, I’ll stand a chance.”
He drops his guard. “You’re very good at this. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s the truth. I watched you. Adria’s one of the best sword fighters in the kingdom. She’s more practiced, but her training happened on the battlefield. This isn’t a battle. It’s a sport. Adria knows how to go for the kill. You’re smart enough to see other options.”
He watched me.
“And you know that how? My feelings? Do Ifeelsmart?”
He smirks. “Among other things.”
Heat drifts down to my core instead of my neck this time. I know exactly which feelings I’ve been having around him.
We continue for several more rounds, and though our exchanges are lasting a bit longer, he wins every last one.
I do appreciate that he doesn’t just let me win. Although I’m not sure if it’s for my sake that he doesn’t or his.
“I’m dying,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. It’s a bit past midday, and the sunlight has started to shine into our covered alcove. It gave me a small advantage in our last exchange when my sword glinted in his eye: I finally managed to make contact with him, but unfortunately, he got me in my belly at the same time.
I am melting in my leathers, though. I’m not sure what he’s complaining about in his clothes, which are so thin they might as well not be there. “Do you mind if I…?” he asks, pulling at the hem of that absurd shirt of his.
“Go ahead,” I say a little too quickly.
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he pulls the tunic over his head.
Fuuuuuuck.
I thought I’d seen it all through the laces, but I hadn’t even scratched the surface.
I can see why they call him the God-King. It isn’t because he’s the end of a long line of nobility believed to be descended from the goddess Vayla herself.
It’s because of his abs.
The whole chest area, really. I don’t know the names for all the muscles, but they’re all there, and they’re exquisitely cut and hard and—wait, is that a scar?
It is. There’s a scar there on his left side. It’s long and deep, from a brutal cut that must have nearly killed him.
I wonder why he didn’t have it healed with the others he got in the war.
I struggle to keep thinking of it as my eyes follow the V-shaped crease of his muscles to his thin, silky breeches and…let me stop my thoughts right there again before I make a fool out of myself.
He chuckles a little, and honestly, fuck him. It isn’t fair that he gets to know every embarrassing feeling I have.
And it isn’t fair for me to be the only one distracted.
“Do you mind if I…?” I say, reaching my fingertips under the ties that hold down my leather chest piece.
“Go ahead,” he says.
I take my time removing the chest piece and pauldrons, keeping myself turned to him so he has a good view. Then I unbuckle the leather leg guards I’m wearing over my pants. I feel much cooler but also much more exposed.
I hope my gamble pays off.
