Ronan claps his hand briefly on Leth’s shoulder. “Karis, this is Leth ka Tariel. Our sword-witch, and our eyes and ears in the Charaini army. Leth, this is—”
“Karis Cooper?” Leth’s voice is soft and measured. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“From Ronan?” Karis asks.
Leth shakes his head. “I’ve been at Fort Tarhaeg and the palace for the past month. There are soldiers and paladins all across Charain looking for you.”
“Oh, that.” Karis buries the pang of guilt in his heart. There are people in the order he cares about, or doesn’t mind. Stazie must be worried; Captain Tanner was always good to him. They don’t know if he’s alive or dead. “Yeah, I guess I’m a little famous now.”
“If my brother knew…” Leth shakes his head again, beads swaying in his hair. “Nevermind.”
Brother. Karis remembers the man he spied on earlier that week. “Wait, is your brother Anton ka Tariel?”
Leth’s voice is even quieter than before when he answers, “Yes.”
Before Karis can ask anything else, Evain saunters from the kitchen, his robe revealing even more of his bare chest. “Long time no see, Leth,” he drawls. “Did you miss me?”
Frost layers over Leth’s expression.
“Get dressed, Evain,” Ronan says, with barely a glance towards him. His attention returns to Karis. “Before we meet, I want you to spar a round with Leth. I know your magical strength, but I haven’t seen you fight.”
Generous of him not to judge Karis’s prowess purely on his failed escape attempts. But dissatisfaction still purses Karis’s lips. “Can’t I spar with you?”
“I want to watch,” Ronan says simply. Everyone ignores Evain’s low whistle.
“All right,” Karis says. Dansa and Evain are already heading to the sofa, and the sisters are near the kitchen door. “Right now?”
“No time like the present.” Ronan joins the man, woman, and cat on the sofa.
Leth unbuckles the sword from his belt and hands the scabbard to Karis. “See if this works for you.”
The shortsword is a simple, utilitarian weapon, with no flourish or ornamentation. The steel is perfectly balanced, and after testing a few forms, Karis feels confident enough—though embarrassingly rusty. He’s had way too much time off of weapons training, with the whole kidnapping thing, and training had already been irregular during the hunt for Ronan. The weapon’s lighter than the swords he trains with, and he’ll have to remember that.
He’ll also have to remember that this blade isn’t blunted like a usual training sword. He almost asks if he should leave the scabbard on, just to be safe. But Leth definitely knows how sharp his own sword is, and Karis doesn’t want to look any greener than he actually is in front of everyone.
“Don’t you need a sword?” Karis asks. “I can use another, if someone grabs one for me.”
Leth slides the long dagger from his belt. “I’m fine with this.” He steps back across the scuffed floor of the parlor, his posture changing only slightly. “We’ll go to the ground or first touch, nothing fancy. Don’t worry about hitting me.”
The instruction is casual, no hint of boasting, but Karis still bristles and barely resists biting back,Don’tyouworry about hittingme. “Suits me,” he says instead, taking a few steps back as well. Whatever. If he accidentally skewers Leth, Dansa can just call on Kan Halla to patch him up. Karis glances at Ronan and asks, “Count us in?”
There’s no heat in Ronan’s gaze now. “On three.”
Evain asks, “Should I run upstairs and grab a scarf? They can duel for my favor.”
“That’ll take too long,” Coira counters.
Karis catches a hint of disgust crossing Leth’s face. Barely there before watchful calm replaces it once again.
“One.” Ronan ignores all of them, simply counting out, “Two, three.”
Karis moves as soon as the last syllable lands. He’s never been the strongest on the training ground, or the most agile. But he’s one of the fastest, and his reflexes are better than average. The sword feels good in his hand, warm to the grip, like it’s part of him. The longer he waits around probing his opponent, the more time his opponent has to get a good read onhim.
Better to just fling himself forward and clash against whatever he finds.
What he finds is Leth’s knife, angled perfectly into his trajectory. Karis pivots around it, bringing his sword up to counter, but Leth’s no longer there. Karis barely dodges the next blur of movement. He stumbles on the footwork, but his training kicks in. As if he’d stumbled on purpose, he surges up into a tricky low thrust.
His sword catches on the blade of Leth’s dagger. They meet eyes for a split second, then Karis breaks away just in time to avoid a knee in the stomach.
