“Improper, huh?” Adeline nodded seriously, crossing her arms. “Well, not to worry. It seems my mother trusts you not to defile my virtue.”
The King looked aghast, his lips parting in horror.
“I wouldnever–”
He caught the smirk on her face and paused. “You’re joking.”
“I am,” she smiled. “And I understand. But to answer your question, there isn’t really a line anymore, or at least not a firm one. Men and women can be alone together. We can work together, have friendships, behave asimproperlyas we see fit.” She arched an eyebrow. “So you needn’t worry about my virtue.”
The King looked like he might combust on the spot and be quite glad for the fiery mercy.
Adeline had meant what she said – shedidunderstand – yet somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel too sorry for riling him. He made it far, far too easy.
He finally dropped his eyes from hers, and gestured vaguely to the weapons wall.
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should begin.”
Adeline chewed on a smile as she followed him to the wall.
They went over each weapon and discussed the ones he was most and least familiar with. He claimed to be proficient with a blade, and Adeline helped him choose a longsword from the wall to demonstrate. She held her own sword up in a defensive stance and waited. The King advanced; his footwork was light and practiced, as elegant as an ice dancer on the glassy laketop of the Laune. He struck, and she blocked just in time, the ring of their blades jarring down her arm. Hewasquite good. Though a bit rusty, as he explained breathlessly while they parried back and forth.
“I’ve had precious little time to practice in the last few centuries.”
It took Adeline a moment to realise he had made a little joke, delivered in his usual low, serious tone. So when a burst of surprised laughter made her stumble, it was all too easy for him to slip gracefully behind her and gently nudge the sword point between her shoulder blades.
“I believe I’ve won,” he said. She couldswearshe heard a smile beneath the words.
She lowered her blade and lifted her free hand in surrender.
“It would seem so. Not bad. Even if you did cheat.”
“Is swordplay not as much a battle of wits as of blades?”
Adeline turned carefully until the sword point hovered above the swell of her breasts. It was with no small amount of satisfaction that she noted the way his eyes flicked to her chest and quickly back up to her face, a flush threatening at his collar.
“I wouldn’t count on the advantage of flirty banter on a real battlefield, Your Majesty.”
She tilted her chin and let her eyes drag appraisingly over him, head to heel. “Especially if you plan on hiding all ofthisbehind a suit of armour.”
King Cumhaill flushed, blinking hard as though she’d jabbed him in the eye, and Adeline seized her moment. Raising her sword at speed, she landed a hard strike low on his blade. The impact shocked his slackened grasp wide open, and he dropped the sword with a clatter.
King Cumhaill looked at the sword on the ground, and slowly back at her. Then he raised both hands in reluctant surrender.
Adeline grinned. “It’s not a bad strategy for the training room, though.”
The King did not return her smile, even as she lowered her blade between them.
“Again,” he said, a little roughly.
Adeline’s grin spread, delighted.
“Ohdear,” she crooned. “You don’t like to lose, do you, Your Majesty?”
The King bent to pick up the fallen sword, and when he rose over her once more, he seemed to move closer without taking a single step. She had to raise her face to meet his eye and though something in her stomach gave an odd little flip at the sudden closeness, she held both her ground and his gaze, her chin held high. For a split second, his lip curled in as though he had to physically bite back his retort and Adeline found herself wanting to hear it; whatever it was. The thought of a snarky little jibe from this cold, restrained man sent a small tendril of warmth curling through her chest.
But the King was as civil as ever.
“Again,” he said, in a tone that was, at most, a touch wry. “Please.”
