The girl wails with frustration, finding no weakness in my defense. She grabs her sword two-handed once again so she can swing it quicker—
Which is her fatal mistake.
Something crunches into my thigh and I seethe, baring my teeth at the girl. I don’t need to bother looking back to know the boy has regained his footing and has planted a boot behind my knee.
I’m forced to my knees, my strategy thrown out the window and instinct taking over. Luckily I’m an elegant faller, and I can anticipate maneuvers with the best of them thanks to the preternatural speed of men I’ve fought like Skar, Lukain, and the two mates watching me right now.
A presence behind me, a presence in front, both falling at the same time toward my head and shoulders.
My swords cross in an X over my head and I duck—
Cla-clang—
Parrying both falling blades at either end simultaneously, and holding the rattling steel.
I flex, bellow, and pushupwith my biceps, reversing their momentum and flinging their blades skyward.
My longsword and shortsword spin out of the X and bat left, right—flat, flat, smack, smack—crashing into the girl’s side and knocking the wind out of her, flipping behind me to smack the side of the boy’s face as he leaned forward too much and was thrown off-balance by my reversal parry.
They both totter and flop backwards, falling onto their backs.
It was a blurring moment of intense action, too fast for many of the onlookers to see. I notice the narrowness of Vallan’s and Garroway’s eyes when I rise and look down at the two combatants. They don’t seem pleased I put myself in danger, yet Vallan didn’t come to my aid with his bloodsight, so perhaps I didn’t put myself in as much danger as I felt I had?
“You,” I say through a hard breath, pointing my shortsword down at the boy. “Watch your left hip. You broadcast your swings wide every time you come in.” The girl gets the point of my longsword aimed over her head. “Practice with a lighter sword, lass. Your arms haven’t muscled up adequately for that big thing, making you need to use two hands to get any kind of force behind your blows. That won’t suit you well in a battle. I know it looks fabulous with a hellion swinging a greatsword, but try a shield and shorter blade.”
The boy is bleeding from his nose, which he wipes with his forearm. The girl grabs at her ribs, wincing. They both nod in unison at my instruction, and rather than arguing or debating, they simply say, “Yes, Battlemistress.”
I firm my lips. “Battlemistress?” My grin breaks out. “Sounds better than Hellwhore or Bitch-Queen, I’ve got to say.”
The audience laughs. They move onto the mat and help their friends up. I give the boy and girl a small bow, inclining mychin toward Skent off to the side. “Good work, everyone. I’m impressed with your training.” I sheathe my swords at my hips and turn to my mates, leaving the room with them.
“Was that necessary, silverblood?” my surly giant asks once we’re in the adjacent hall.
“Watch, Vall, they won’t stop talking about it for weeks,” I answer.
“That’s what this was? Proof of your prowess? Accolades for the Battlemistress, so the whelps won’t ever forget it?”
I roll my eyes and punch him in the shoulder. My heart is racing, sweat lines my brow, and I’m fired up. “No, you big oaf. It wasmotivation, so they remember the day they were beaten and keep training harder to get better.”
Garroway scoffs in my defense. “Aye, don’t be a sour ass, brother. It wasmotivation.Ever heard of it?”
I chuckle and nudge him as we walk down the familiar corridors toward the back halls of the Firehold. My eyes meet each mate in turn, half-lidded as the adrenaline in my veins fights its way through my system. “Besides, my big brute,” I say, “you two might end up being the lucky recipients of all that sweaty motivation, and I’m sure you won’t be complaining then.”
I finish with a wink over my shoulder, disappearing into the shadowy recesses of a nearby room. My words and slyness shuts Vallan up fast, and the sounds of his heavy boots hot on my heels rings pleasantly in my ears.
Chapter 19
Sephania
I shove Garroway against a stone wall in the darkness, feeling blindly, my hand around his throat. The dhampir goes along with my rough maneuver, smiling wickedly as I lightly squeeze air from his lungs.
He shows no signs of discomfort. In fact, he shows the opposite of discomfort when I pitch forward and slam my lips over his. I take his upper lip in mine, tonguing the inside of his mouth, tasting him. He lets out a small hum in my throat and gropes at my sides while I keep him pinned to the wall.
My tits press against his middle and our body heat mingles. Somewhere outside, footsteps echo as someone makes their way down the hall past the room we’ve fled into.
I know this place like I know my own body. These smaller rooms off from the main sections of the labyrinth were once rot-houses—punishment rooms of solitary confinement for Grimsons who broke code. They were also dwellings for the randy slaves to disappear into with each other and carry out their most seductive advances.
As I throw my body on Garroway, my knee finds his crotch, where a great swelling weighs on my thigh. I reach down to guide my hand over the outline of his cock, smiling as I slightly pull back.
