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I laughed at the fool then ducked to pick up my sword—
But a foot fell on top of it, pinning it there.
I glanced up, eyebrows lifting, wondering how someone had snuck up on me. “Shit,” I sighed at the man standing over me, smirking that shitty little smirk with his thin mustache twisting.
I hopped back just in time to avoid his eviscerating chop at my belly, surrendering my blade on the ground.
His hand moved fast, keeping me at a distance. I changed my battle stance with my single sword, wrapping my free hand under my first at the hilt, tilting the sword forward as my back foot slid behind me.
The man’s smug expression only tilted one side of his thin lips. His black hair was reminiscent of mine yet longer, past his shoulders. His studded leather armor reflected moonlight. He was a pale reaper—one I wished to never see again.
“William Scadlock,” he purred with a grim smile, “it’s been too long. How is dear Jonathan?” He roved to the sides like a shark, to test my stance. He didn’t get close enough to strike, so I remained frozen where I stood, narrowed eyes darting to follow him.
I was not about to underestimate this asshole.
“Not long enough, Guy of Jizzborne,” I breathed, suppressing the shiver at my nape.
He chuckled. “Jizzborne. Adorable. I see you haven’t grown up.”
“What’s the point? Sounds boring. I’d rather just make your life hell, mate.”
His smile flickered, nose twitching.
It was a tell, and I was ready. “Gotten any better at swordplay since last we met?” I asked.
He lunged, lightning-fast, wielding his longsword like a saber and thrusting at my chest.
I swept away and took a graze across my tunic as I leaped off my feet. My boot caught the tree trunk at my flank and I pushed off it like a springboard, launching into the air and bringing my sword down on his head.
Guy glanced up, unmoving but undoubtedly surprised, and lowered himself into a somersault at the last second, rolling away.
I charged at him as he popped up to his feet. Our blades whirred and clanged together. I gave him no quarter, pressing my attack, gritting my teeth, sweating through my clothes as my muscles burned and I went on a full offensive. I looked for a weakness in his defenses but found none.
For all my chirping about Guy of Gisborne, the man was a masterful swordsman. Perhaps the best in the land, as well as the best archer, reportedly.
He parried every strike effortlessly. His face never broke from his shitty little smirk, never gave away his inner thoughts. When I had him on his heels, he backed into a birch tree and quickly noticed his disadvantage. He pirouetted around it as my sword sliced for his head.
My blade stuck knuckle-deep into the tree trunk and Guy smiled and stabbed at me.
I released my hold on the sword to duck low, then jumped to my full height, kicked out to keep him at bay. My hand closed around the hilt of my blade and I yanked it out of the trunk before Guy was back on me, pressing his attack.
He went on the offensive. I staved off most of his attacks. Most of them. One nicked me in the leg. Another caught my arm somehow. I hadn’t even seen that one, but it opened and spilled blood on the forest floor.
With an angry huff, I backed up at double speed to put some distance between us.
I would never admit it, but I couldn’t beat Guy of Gisborne in a straight duel. Not with only one sword.
I scanned the ground. Couldn’t see my other blade anywhere in the underbrush. Guy had me dead to rights.
Then I noticed shadows behind him, closing in. They weren’t coming from the direction of the witch’s cabin, which meant they weren’t Merry Men.
My eyes blew wide.
Guy smiled, likely thinking he had caused my unnerved expression.
A roar echoed through the trees to our right.
Our heads whipped over, surprised—
