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One final Friday before my official starting date at the king’s lair.
My student stood alone on a piste, the only fencer still waiting.
Back to me. Hands clasped behind him. His face staring out the window in silence as if the lowly pupils around him didn’t deserve his attention.
The épée—his discipline and weapon of choice—complemented him. It made for the slowest, most deliberate combat. With the entire body as a target.
More importantly, the right of way did not apply to this fencing style. Therefore, of the three disciplines, this was the most savage.
Which was precisely why it suited Zachary Sun.
The man wasn’t a knight in shining armor. A hero of high morals here to save the day.
No, he was a sleek predator.
A monster who struck whomever and however he wished, so long as it got him closer to his goal.
Somehow, this ruthless predator had convinced Vera to hire three cleaners for our company before he’d left the other day.
I couldn’t believe my own ears when she sat me and my stepsisters down to break the news.
She couldn’t stop gushing about him. How he admired herbusiness plan and how he’d offer her more ideas to expand it in due time.
“This is a new era, girls. I opened the door to the greatest business opportunity. Your mother has achieved something your father never could.”
“Jane Doe.” Zach still stared out the window, roping me back into the present. “You’re late.”
For weeks, I’d hardly spoken to him while we trained. With his shrewdness, it wouldn’t take much for him to recognize my voice.
I couldn’t risk it.
Not with so much intel about his party to collect.
Now, there was no need to preserve my cover.
I sauntered to the piste, taking position in front of him. “Sword. Mask. Posture.”
He spun on his heel and narrowed the distance, draping his mask over his godlike face and picking up his épée in the process.
I inclined my chin. “En garde.”
His stance melted into position as if he’d been born into the art of fencing, the movement so effortless, I wanted to scream.
His right foot out front, angled toward my position, knees over toes. Back straight. Always. Arms nice and loose.
Nothing to critique.
I paced on the strip, slamming heavy breaths against my metal mask. “I’m going to be ruthless today,” I warned.
“Give me your worst.”
The fencing apparatus’ timer began to tick down. I sank into a deep lunge.
For an épée fencer, Zach favored aggressive play. He skipped the probes and advanced mere seconds into our first three minutes.
His lithe body spliced through the air, the point of his sword aimed straight for my heart. I dodged, retreated, then stepped forward.
He disregarded the move as a threat.
