Picking up the blade, she handed it back to him. “You’re learning how to defend yourself.”
Something shifted in him.
“You think no one’s tried this before?” he asked.
Roa tucked her own blade beneath her arm as she reached for his hand—the one gripping the hilt. “I’m sure they tried,” she said, prying his fingers loose from the pommel, then rearranging them in a more secure hold. “Either they gave up too soon, or they were the wrong teachers.”
He fell silent, letting her push and prod—not just his fingers, but his elbows, arms, hips, knees—into position. She stepped back to observe him.
“How does that feel?”
“Uncomfortable.”
“Memorize it.”
His chest heaved. He lowered his arms and all of Roa’s work came undone.
“Trust me,” he said, setting the sword down. The golden light of the lamps sifted through his curls and caught in his eyelashes. “This is a waste of time.”
Annoyance sparked inside Roa, but she held her stance, not ready to give up yet.
“You’re a weak king, Dax,” she taunted, trying to provoke him. “Everyone knows it. Pick up your sword and defend yourself.”
His eyes flashed at that.
Fight back.She glared at him.Spar with me.
He didn’t even raise his weapon. “What’s my incentive?”
“Incentive?”
“For giving up sleep in order to indulge you. While I’m injured, no less.”
Roa’s grip tightened.Does he suspect me?
“I teach you how to defend yourself so youdon’t die,” she said. “That’s your incentive.”
Dax shrugged, his fingers sliding back into the arrangement Roa had just corrected. Holding the blade up to the firelight, he examined it.
“I’ve spent twenty-one yearsnot dying.” He caught her eye over the edge of the steel. “Without you.”
“Luck,” she said, knocking the blade aside.
“Carefully deliberated scheming,” he said.
She nodded for him to raise the sword. When he didn’t, shethrust, forcing him backward. Dax raised to block her, leaving his whole left side exposed.
Roa frowned harder.Is it really possible for him to be this terrible?
“When you grow up bullied and beaten,” he said, “forced to watch the ones you love beaten, too...”
She pinned him to the wall with her hip, grabbing the wrist that held his sword and pressing the flat of her own to his throat.
Dead again,her eyes gleamed up at him.
He brought up his knee, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to startle, then shoved her back. “You learn that swords don’t do much good.” His grip tightened on the hilt. “The person doing the abusing will always have a sharper weapon. He’ll always know how to wield it better.” His eyes looked through her, like he no longer saw her. Like he saw something far away instead.
Roa lowered her blade.
