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He waved his hand, removing the gag with one dismissive motion, and I stretched my mouth, rubbing my cheeks, feeling like it was still in place.
“You could’ve asked me nicely, you know.” I straightened my vest. “There was no need for the dramatics.”
Talon’s eyes narrowed. The skepticism pulling at his brows told me he knew I was full of it, and he sucked his teeth. “Next time, you can run all the way to the wards for all I care.” He turned to leave, but I remained where I stood, confused by what he meant.
“Hey!” I followed him, my curiosity getting the best of me. “The wards? What wards?”
A bemused smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “The ones the king put up to keep you from leaving.”
Thirteen
Talon’s unclothed back greeted me as I entered the room, his rippling muscles captivating my attention. The sun had begun its climb over the mountains, casting golden rays of light through the windows that encompassed him.
The sword in his hands gleamed as he swung and cut it through the air—his arm and back muscles tightening with each precise movement. Every motion appeared as controlled and steady as his last.
Something inside me stirred, and I bit my cheek to keep the inappropriate thoughts at bay. Men weren’t built like that in Wendover. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was, and I hated myself for admiring him, yet I peeked again, unable to control myself.
“Twice now, you’ve managed to be late.” Talon thrust the sword out in front of him. “It’s impressive, honestly.”
I opened my mouth, ready to defend myself, but his deadly dance held me captive.
His movements were unnaturally mesmerizing. He pulled back, spinning the blade around his body with a flick of the hilt, catching it in his opposite hand. “Please feel free to keep standing there and wasting my time,” he went on. “I’d hate to inconvenience you.”
I strolled toward him, careful to keep as much distance between me and that blazing piece of metal as possible. A glittering arsenal of weapons paneled the wall to my left, ranging from small daggers to long swords like the one Talon used.
He sheathed his sword at his hip as he approached, scooping his shirt off the ground, and pulled it over his head. I hated how effortlessly he walked—his stupid leisurely stroll—as if he wasn’t capable of unspeakable crimes.
“Pick the one that calls to you.”
Death didn’t call to me, not like it did the fae. And now I was expected to connect to a weapon I’d potentially have to use to kill another?
I brushed a finger along the blades, pretending not to notice how his abs flexed and glistened with sweat. Or the way his nimble fingers ran through the damp hair that clung to his forehead. He was a flame-forged weapon. Who needed all these bayonets and knives when fae like Talon existed? Casting creatures like the drowler into trees with a flick of the wrist. Surely the swordplay was just for show—to mock humans.
I shook my head, refocusing my attention on the daggers in front of me. “How will I know which one calls to me?”
“Trust your instinct. It’ll tell you.”
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
Talon wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, and I looked away—too quick to be casual. “Pick the prettiest one, then.”
I hummed my annoyance. Beautiful yet cruel. It made my blood itch. “How original. Need I remind you of the hundreds of sharp weapons at my disposal that I could use to kill you?” Waving a hand across the wall, I matched his haughty attitude.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, firefly. While your threats are well intended, they’re futile. Do me a favor and pick a weapon so we can move this along.”
My molars ground together, and I balled my hands into fists at my side. I knew it was reckless. I knew he could kill me with one swift flick of his wrist. But the rage he induced inside me surged to the surface, and before I could rationalize it, I grabbed the first hilt I saw and spun around, pressing the tip of the sword into his Adam’s apple.
A drop of crimson blood dripped down his neck.
“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped.
“Interesting choice.” Talon flashed his sharp canines before swiftly disarming me. His face inches from mine as he held the tip of the sword to my ribcage.
I sucked in a breath.
“Let’s get one thing straight, hm?” A beat passed before Talon retreated with my weapon, wiping the blood from his neck with his thumb before licking the pad of it clean. “Blind rage can and will get you killed. Every single time. It’s sloppy. Careless. Dueling is about technique, timing, and control. Normally, I’d have you focus on defense, but with your stature, I think homing in and improving your coordination would be more beneficial.” Talon tossed my sword. “Catch.”
I jumped to catch the flying piece of metal, but the hilt slipped out of my fingers—the blade clanking against the cement ground. “What in the hell is wrong with you?” Bending over, I picked it up. “You can’t throw a sword at someone like that!”
