“Just as kicking him in the sack will probably be inappropriate as well.”
“There are rules to the rite, Elspeth.”
“And here I thought the most important one was: Don’t die.”
He sighed, then came closer, pointing his long dagger at me for emphasis. “That’s your main priority,” he agreed. “But remember, people will be watching—nobles, dignitaries, ambassadors. If you win by sleight of hand or bycheating, you’ll have to bear that burden.”
“Better that than death. Do you think Adastrus plays fair? He clearly hasn’t thus far.”
“In his mind, he’s already won. Now he plays his political game. Let him,” he said. “Enough. Ready yourself.”
“Can I kick you in the sack?” I snorted, readying my stance as I braced my weapon.
His eyes flitted over my form with a frown. “If you try, you will regret it.”
I laughed, and he lunged.
I yelped as he moved quicker than I expected for a sore warrior, and threw my arm out to block his attack. The sheath of his dagger smarted against my hand as I ducked under his blow.
He backed away, shaking his head. “Tell me why you cut yourself during the Ritual of Blade and Blood.”
I jerked with subtle surprise. “Is that the game?”
That could make things interesting, though if I ever landed a strike, I doubted he’d grant me a chance to ask anything—and I had a great many questions for him.
“Aye. For every hit you land, I’ll give you an answer.” He wriggled his eyebrows in a rare, playful manner. “I would wager you have one or two.”
My grin widened. I braced my feet once again, wagging my fingers to beckon him, then shrugged. “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself anymore.”
“Care for me a bit much?” he asked, stalking closer.
With a haughty smirk, I winked. “You’ll have to land another blow for that answer.”
He took a quick step forward, his strike obvious, and I danced aside, throwing out to parry. He moved with me, grabbing my weapon arm. I spun against him, slamming my head into his chest, then my heel down on his toes. He grunted, and I threw my elbow into his gut, then jerked free of his hold. With a fierce spin, I whipped around, slapping his face with my braid, and raised my dagger to his throat.
“Not bad,” he wheezed.
My triumphant grin was bold and bright, but he smirked, and a soft tap pressed into my ribs.
“I landed first.”
“I let you.”
“Ha!”
I shuffled back a few steps, needing distance to form my question. He lowered his weapon and dropped his arms to his sides, rolling his shoulders as he waited.
“Have you ever loved anyone?”
His impish smirk faltered, as if hiding a flinch. “Loved?”
“Yes.” I kept my playful mask in place, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much his answer meant to me. “You know, love? That fluttery feeling in your heart?”
“There are many kinds,” he drawled, arching an eyebrow in silent challenge.
He was making this far more awkward than it needed to be.
“You know what I mean,” I huffed.
