After a pause, he moved in front of me.
“Try to hit me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Come at me. Keep your balance.”
“I’ll lose.”
“I know.”
I narrowed my eyes and lunged. He sidestepped easily, catching my wrist as I stumbled into him. His other hand shot out to steady me.
Gods, he was solid, not like the courtiers who wore armor as decoration. No, they built him for battle, for carrying weight. Lean muscle, hard lines, and unwavering control.
My breath caught. The warmth of his body soaked through every layer between us. My pulse betrayed me, fluttering high and unsteady.
“I told you to keep your balance,” he said, keeping his voice low.
His hands, still resting on my skin, were a static charge that bypassed my thoughts, leaving only a chaotic hum where focus should have been. He looked down at me, and his eyes weren’t only steel. There was something beneath the surface. Something quieter, more curious?
“You don’t blink when you’re afraid,” he murmured.
“I blink plenty.”
“Not when it matters.”
A lump formed in my throat, dry and insistent. “Why are you teaching me?”
“Because next time,” he said softly, “I might not be there.”
He stepped back, and a wave of longing, sharp and unexpected, washed through me as his heat vanished.
I hated how obvious I must’ve been. My face burned, my breath catching in my throat as though I had raced through the courtyard. This wasn’t infatuation, I told myself. That wasn’t possible. It was a mix of gratitude, admiration, and embarrassment all tangled together.
He didn’t seem to notice. It’s possible he did, and he was thoughtful enough to omit mentioning it.
I lunged again. Faster this time with more determination. My arm extended, feet pushing off the earth with more control.
He shifted just enough. Turned his body, caught my wrist, and redirected my weight past him. Not harshly, just enough to remind me how easily he could.
I stumbled two steps and caught myself.
“Better,” he said. “But don’t lean forward like that. You’ll lose your footing, Princess.”
“I’m not meant to stab people,” I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s hope they never try to stab you.”
I shifted, but a root in my way caught my boot. I lurched forward, off balance enough to crash into him.
His hands came up instinctively, catching me around the waist. I landed hard against his chest, breath shallow. His grip steadied me, unflinching, and then lingered for a beat too long.
He set me upright as if I weighed nothing.
“You alright?”
“Don’t stop on my account,” came Gideon’s voice from behind a tree. His arms crossed, grinning. “I was rooting for you to stab him.”
