Ignoring the flash of heat bolting through her body, starting at the place where his fingers tightened around her wrist all the way to her core, Lory sent a lazy gaze up and down the weapons rack until her eyes rested on the one weapon he probably hadn’t intended for her to use.
“This one,” she drawled, pulling her arm from his grasp and taking one deliberate step toward the end of the rack. “This one looks like it will do perfectly.”
With purpose, she reached for the weapon Khayrivven had extracted from his belt and weighed it in her palm. The blackened hilt that was cool to the touch despite the suffocating heat and the sun beating down on it, the curved cross guard that could smash in a skull, the elegant blade, three fingers wide and etched with symbols Lory had never seen before.
When she tore her gaze away from the blade to study Khayrivven’s reaction, he was already standing at the foot of the nearest mock building, challenge glimmering in his eyes. “You think ashling training was scary?” He placed his free hand on the side of a window, placing a foot on the windowsill. “You have no idea how scary thornling training can become. See you up there, Gutter Gem.” With a wink, he sheathed his dagger and started climbing.
Stunned, Lory watched him make it to the first balcony, then to the second, images of Ronan falling from the roof flashing through her mind, the ashling in the wrong place at the wrong time when Ricca had pushed her to save Aiden.
“Are you coming?” Khayrivven was halfway up the facade, his movements fluid and effective.
Lory’s heart started racing at what he had implied. Armed fighting, but up there, on the roofs, where they could plunge to their deaths.
“What do you think?” Putting on a smirk cost her part of her concentration, but by the time Khayrivven made itto the top, Lory was at the second level, and the sword she’d shoved into her belt only sporadically bounced against the wooden facade as she climbed. When she arrived at the top, Khayrivven was already waiting for her, dagger in hand and an expression of victory on his features that was tainted only by the concern in his eyes as he watched her pull herself over the edge of the roof.
“Rule number one for combat on heights: Never take the same path as your opponent, unless you want them to kick you right back down and break your neck.” The victory vanished from his face, leaving behind only concern. “Had this been a real fight, you’d be dead. There were about ten different ways I could have killed you from the moment you started climbing, throwing my dagger through your eye when you looked up the quickest and most merciful one of them.”
As much experience as she had with running and climbing when she’d still called the streets her home, Lory hadn’t been the one to give chase, but the one fleeing with a loaf of bread or a bag of coin. Her goal had always been to disappear without confronting her opponents. This was different.She’dbeen the one to follow Khayrivven, and he hadn’t been running.
The image of the dagger in her eye didn’t leave Lory’s head as he took a few steps back, beckoning her to follow with a curl of his fingers. “Today, we’ll assess your status. Tomorrow, we’ll start in earnest.”
He didn’t give her any warning as he came for her, tapping the flat of his dagger against her shoulder when she was too slow to pull her sword and bolted out of his way instead.
With feet too light for his powerful frame, he turned on the spot, tackling her in the process and pinning her to the flat roof with his forearm, blade angled at her face. “Dead again.” The way his lips pulled into a taunting grin as he lingered on top of her a moment longer than necessary to prove his point made heat well up inside her chest, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was the kind that would consume them both if they imagined away their clothes.
Leaping up like his frame weighed nothing, Khayrivven held out his hand to help her up. How he was moving like a desert cat with the sun trying to suffocate them both was beyond her, but he wasn’t the best for nothing. Whatever his secret, she needed to learn it, too. Needed to become strong and fast and invincible to survive Ashthorn, even as a thornling. Her rank might have changed, but the number of people wanting her dead hadn’t, even when the Triad’s hands were bound now that she’d passed the trial.
Lory didn’t take Khayrivven’s hand, instead opting to push herself up with one of her own hands, drawing his sword with the other and going straight for his knees. Tall opponents like him tended to underestimate her shorter frame, but she was nimble on her feet—perhaps not like him, but quick enough to make it past his guard and hit his thigh with the flat of the sword.
When she emerged behind him, straightening, he had already turned around with her, smirk broader than ever. “Not bad, Gutter Gem. At least you know where to attack when your opponent isn’t paying attention.” The glimmer inhis eyes informed her he had been paying attention all right, had only tested what she’d do when given the opportunity.
That didn’t stop her from trying again, though. Oh, it was on.Soon. Khayrivven wanted to fight? So she would. She would fight with every dirty trick she’d learned on the streets, would leverage every little advantage she could find.
Center of gravity lowered, Lory hovered a few feet from the edge of the roof, where it melted into the twenty-foot-high wall, and flashed the Veiled Hand a grin. “Doing what I can.”
He came for her like a beautiful predator, every step slow, deliberate, his arms casually at his sides as if he had nothing to fear from her, but Lory didn’t make the mistake of believing he wasn’t prepared. She’d seen what he was capable of, and something about the way his eyes darkened as they locked on hers told her he wouldn’t hold back this time.
Hold your ground, Lory.Heart pounding like a drum to a frantic dance, Lory assessed every last part of her body: the feel of the roof beneath her boots (smooth, but sprinkled with grains of sand from the gusts of wind roaming the courtyard), the distance to the left, where the roof ended in a steep drop, the next element of the parcours a few feet away and so narrow a less-experienced person would slither over the edge and break their neck in the fall. The sliver of shade the wall provided in the merciless midday sun.
Khayrivven lunged for her so fast she barely managed to twist to the side, but her patience and speed paid off as the edge of his dagger scraped along the rough limestone behind the spot she’d been standing a moment ago. On feet fast likethe wind, Lory darted left, palm sweaty on the hilt of the sword she was gripping like her life depended on it. Two more steps. One.
With a powerful leap, Lory catapulted herself off the roof, praying to the Guardians that she hadn’t overestimated her abilities.
Thud!
The breath was knocked out of her as she landed in a crouch, instantly rolling over her shoulder to lessen the force of the impact, and ended up back on her toes, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the platform fifteen feet above the ground. But her sword had remained in her hand, angled upward, ready to strike.
“If this wasn’t training, I’d shove you right off and laugh about it,” Khayrivven announced from not two feet behind her.
Of course he’d managed the same leap, needing only half the distance to make his landing.
“Or if I were to take you prisoner, I’d simply dothis.” Something sharp pressed between her shoulder blades—the tip of the dagger. “Stand up and lower your weapon.”
Ugh—
How could someone be so skilled and beautiful, yet be such a dick?
Slowly, Lory pushed to her feet, Khayrivven’s sword still fast in her fist. Yes, she could follow his orders and still find a way out of the situation. He might have been playing with her, his skill level way above hers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think on her feet. That she hadn’t escaped worse situations in the streets of Dunai.
