Page 36 of On a Barbarian World

“She does as I please.” He let his warlord tone leak into his voice. “As do you.”

Kata’s mouth snapped shut, and she nodded. “Yes, Warlord.”

“Kavon,” Chaldora said. “I have some promising candidates in your search for the daughter of a war⁠—”

“Not now, Chaldora. I’m far too busy.”

She inclined her head. “As you wish.”

“Come.” He held out a hand to Aurina. “I have sword practice.” And for the first time since he was a lad, he wanted a woman to watch him.

“Ask, barbarian, ask,” she muttered. But there was no heat in her words as she took his hand.

He squeezed her fingers. “Please.”

She smiled, and it made heat flare in Kavon. Maybe they were both adjusting to each other’s ways. The skyflyer and the barbarian.

Aurina could think of worse ways to spend her time.

She sat on one of several stone benches overlooking the hard-packed earth of the training arena. She watched a group of big, strong, half-naked warriors, their muscles flexing and gleaming with perspiration as they trained. Masculine grunts and the clang of metal rang in the morning air.

She’d spent some time studying all the warriors as they swung their swords, or sparred. But of course, her gaze was drawn to one particular warrior.

Kavon moved a little faster, and was more skilled with his sword. It moved like an extension of him—smooth, powerful, and deadly. He’d run the men through various drills, including a type of exercise she’d never have guessed to see from tough warriors. They would stay in one place, swinging their swords through the air in a controlled, steady way that spoke of patience and restraint, not blood-thirsty aggression.

He’d told her control was vital. That it was what gave them strength.

After that exercise, they’d moved into standard sword-fighting drills. For all their control, they were hard, strong warriors and it showed in the ferocity of their attacks. Kavon drilled them hard, correcting errors, yelling encouragement and a few insults at them. He was tough, but fair and dedicated. She saw it in every line of his face. That dedication to make them the best he could, so they in turn could protect everyone he’d claimed as his.

And to avenge his family, his father.

She understood. She’d loved her mother, and there were days when she’d wished she could have taken revenge on all the people who’d worn her mother down and driven her to an early death.

Aurina’s shoulders slumped a little. How the hell was she going to find this sword? A sword that she suspected was only a myth, and wasn’t even real. She leaned her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands. And on the off chance that the sword really had existed, it was probably lost to the sands of time.

She was never going to get her e-beacon back.

“Aurina?”

Kavon’s deep voice made her glance up. He was waving her down into the training ring. The other warriors had all paired off and were practicing.

She headed over to him. His bare chest glistened and he smelled of healthy male sweat.

He lifted his sword. “I will show you the basics of sword fighting.”

“Would you like me to show you, Aurina?” she said in a mock deep voice. Then she raised the pitch. “Why yes, thank you, Kavon. Thank you for asking.”

His brows drew together. “Would you like to go back to your seat and look sad and brooding?”

“Now you ask a question, and it’s laced with sarcasm.” She shook her head. “I will have you asking instead of ordering before I leave here. Yes, I would like to learn, but I don’t think I can even lift your sword, Kavon.” The damn thing was almost as long as she was.

“Come.” He circled until he stood behind her. His large arms engulfed her, his damp chest pressed against her back. He placed her hands on the hilt of the sword, while his closed over hers, taking most of the weight of the weapon.

Her gaze snagged on the metal. The sword was a thing of beauty. The blade straight and well-crafted—a warrior’s weapon. Near the hilt were ornate swirls and sharp tips. Not pretty, but striking. It suited Kavon perfectly.

“Hold your fingers like this.” He rearranged her hands. “Feel the weight of the sword, let it get comfortable with you.”

“Let it get comfortable with me? You talk like it’s alive.”