“Will you fight with a blade, or your ax?”
He unsheathed his grandfather’s sword and flexed his knees.
“I willnae allow ye to claim I had an advantage with an ax and shield, wildcat.”
I scoffed.
“You bear a wound from the last time you fought me with an ax and shield. Are you any better with a sword?”
I didn’t give him time to answer before I darted forward.
My attack was a flurry of movement, designed to test him. And as I suspected, Vrogul allowed it, moving his bladeonly to defend. He met every strike with unhurried precision, his blade rising and falling like he had all the time in the world.
His arrogance should have irritated me, but instead I felt a fierce sort of joy rising in my chest as I exalted in this match.
More certain of my opponent now, I shifted my weight and changed my angle, driving at his right side—his weaker side, I’d learned—and he pivoted with more grace than a male his size had any right to possess, turning my blade aside with a sharp ring of steel.
The impact shivered up my arm to the shoulder, and my burst of laughter surprised us both.
He grinned in response as I backed off, circling. He turned with me, patient as a stone.
“Yer father taught ye well, Rowena.”
His low compliment sent a shiver of awareness through me.
“Did he teach yer mother, too?”
I blinked, momentarily distracted, but he didn’t take advantage of it.
“Nay, she was gone by the time I began my training. I doubt she would have approved—she was a fine lady, a daughter of a powerful chief. He chose my father for her because he thought?—”
Thinking to catch him unawares, I halted my explanation mid-sentence and feinted high, dropped low, and swept at his legs. He stepped back, not quite fast enough—the flat ofmy blade caught his shin—and I heard the breath leave him with a huff of laughter.
“Clever lass.”
He pressed forward then, for the first time, and I felt the difference immediately. There was a controlled power in his advance that my footwork could barely keep ahead of. Each time I deflected one blow, another was already coming, measured and relentless. I was fast; he was inevitable. I gave ground in a tight arc, the giant oak at my back, looking for the opening in his pattern.
There—a fraction of a pause at full extension.
I ducked under his arm and spun behind him, tapping my blade between his shoulder blades before dancing away.
This time he tipped his head back and laughed loudly at the leaves already beginning to turn bright colors.
“By the gods, lass, ye are a worthy opponent.”
“You underestimated me, even though I bloodied you once afore?” I mocked, breathing hard. “I am a fierce enemy, Stormseeker.”
He settled into the ready position, the laughter slowly leaching from his expression.
“I am no’ yer enemy, lass. I would be—och, never mind.”
I shook out my arms, watching warily for an opening as he circled.
“Why are we fighting, if we are not enemies?”
“We’resparring, Rowena, because ye promised to show me what yer father taught ye, but no’ yer mother, whom yer grandfather sold to him.”
Surprised, I backed up, even though he hadn’t advanced.
