I’ve caught him off-guard, like I hoped: he’s all but dropped his own sword and his jaw hangs slack. Taking advantage, I tap the back of his hand with enough force to make him drop the hilt. The sword tumbles to the ground.
A scattering of applause sounds from the others nearby, who were apparently watching us. Annoying heat warms my cheeks. I only had eyes for Bes.
He throws up his hands in defeat, a smile slowly pulling at his lips as I point the dull blade at his chest. “Well done.”
I bend down and hand him back his sword. “Finally, the recognition I’ve been craving.”
“Where’d you learn to do”— he whirls his finger—“all that?”
“Three years of gymnastics.”
He gets back into position again. “Why stop at three?”
I make the first move, thrusting forward, only to have him dodge my advance. I spear air.
“I could never stick to one thing,” I breathe out. “And not only because Nonna pulled me out of my weekly classes so often to go on expeditions that they insisted I quit.”
I feint again, my boots shifting beneath me. “I never found the one thing I loved to do and was actually good at, besides learning about ancient history and going after lost artifacts.”
Bes nods sagely before coming at me again. I block him down easily, the tip of his blade scraping the stone.
“You’re a restless soul, Miss Hawkins.” He gestures around the room with his free hand. “We all are. It’s one of the reasons so many choose to join the order.”
Yes, buttheywere given a choice.
Seeming to decide something, he tosses his sword to the ground. “I realize this isn’t where you wanted to be after all you’ve been through, especially against your will. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for it. If I could take it all back…”
Fury at my current predicament threatens to consume me again, but I squash it. Even if it didn’t turn out the way he hoped, Bes has only ever tried to keep me safe, and by all accounts was a pawn in Ansaldo’s plans, same as me.
I’ll let him feel sorry for me a little longer, though.
I step toward him, the hilt of the practice sword still clutched tight in my sweat-slick grip. “Allof it?”
His eyes shift from my eyes down to my lips and back again. I wonder if he’s remembering when we danced together at the club, our bodies pressed together. Or how we nearly kissed in that alley near the port.
His eyes warm. “I suppose it wasn’tallterrible.”
I can’t help grinning. “That’s what I thought.”
Dropping my sword, I don’t hesitate to take a few more steps until I’m invading his personal space, leaving mere inches between us. He’s not sweating somehow, but his cheeks are flushed, and his breathing hitches. Whether it’s from the sparring or my proximity to him, I can’t be sure. I enjoy it all the same.
This close, I notice how unfairly long his eyelashes are; they frame his deep brown eyes with dull, golden flecks in them. His skin is shockingly smooth, even this close up. The longer I stareat him, the more I realize Bes is the kind of man someone like me could easily get lost in and happily never find their way out.
Lucky for me, he still has one foot forward from sparring.
I touch the inside of Bes’s right arm with my fingertips, and a shudder passes through him. My own heart beats faster, primed to betray me.
I won’t let it.
In one fluid motion, I shove my right shoulder into his chest, purposefully missing his stab wound, so that he faces away from me. I tighten my grip on his upper arm and place my right leg on the other side of his. With all the force I can muster, I lurch forward, pushing him toward the ground while remaining on my feet. Surprise strikes out across his face the second before he hits the floor. He lands solidly on his back, breath whooshing from his chest.
I can’t help it—I laugh.That was too easy.
Before I can celebrate my victory, he grips my right forearm and yanks me down on top of him. A yelp escapes from my throat at the impact.
Just as smoothly as I took him down, he rolls on top of me, straddling my hips. Binding my wrists with one hand, he thrusts them over my head, rendering me wholly immobile.
Jesus, he’s quick.
