Page 12 of Drawn into Oblivion

Rosuke looked around at the gawking crowd. Judging by the many raised eyebrows, most had been shocked to see Mai speaking with a man, but a few sported sly smiles, clearly reading his intent like a sign on the wall. Grinning, he shrugged and then saluted the room.

“Wish me luck,” he said, earning a few chuckles. Looking down at Oka, he was met with a perplexed expression.

“Why is everyone laughing?” Oka asked. “Is Mai bad at sword fighting?”

“They’re laughing at me,” Rosuke answered. He clapped his hand onto the boy’s shoulder and led him out of the room.

Chapter Five

Rosuke watched Oka hesitantly touch the hilt of one of a dozen well-maintained practice swords hanging on the training-room wall. The boy had been the brother of a crow, so his life before now had been one of extreme poverty, and each sword had more value than the small, drafty hut he’d once lived in. Though he had been given an extensive wardrobe, he only wore the plain, sturdy items and washed them himself. Rosuke couldn’t blame him.

None of the newly appointed house elders or military officers felt comfortable in their lofty positions. As for Vallen and himself, they remembered the old court from before the Blondie Uprising—and the wealthy lives they’d lived—but being practically banished from humanity for three hundred years had changed them in more ways than just their lifestyle. They hid it as well as they could.

He was starting to feel impatient, though. Half an hour had nearly passed and Mai had not yet arrived. Her room in the residential palace was not far by any stretch of the imagination. Had he pushed her too far with that last compliment? Her telltale blush and subsequent escape had been quite damning.

Yet he hadn’t been able to help himself. When her soft skin had slid against his palm, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. He had expected her hands to be like his, especially after all the sword practice he knew she undertook every day, whether she had a teacher or not. And feeling her supple skin had given way to all sorts of wicked urges. He’d wanted to discover whether every inch of her was just as silky, and then put her soft hands right where he wanted them to be.

Light, unhurried footsteps came into earshot as Mai approached from down the hall. Rosuke stood straight.

“She’s here,” Oka said with excitement. He ran to the door and slid it open right when Mai appeared. Rosuke sharply inhaled.

She had changed into her practice uniform and gathered her long hair into a single thick braid pinned to her nape. While women traditionally wore dresses—silk or cotton robes wrapped left over right and secured shut with a wide sash around the waist—those women who served in the empress’s forces adopted a similar state of dress to the men. Her cream-colored cotton uniform was thinner than her usual clothes—beneath which she always wore an underrobe even on hot days like today—and he could much more easily discern the shape of her waist. Her pants were tied off below her knees, leaving her calves bare. In combat as a foot soldier, she would wear sturdy boots with metal spikes on the toes. He did his best to surreptitiously admire the perfection of her toned legs, their lean definition a testament to her regular training. He had no doubt the rest of her would look equally as delectable.

Mai stepped into the room and raised a brow at the mild surprise on Rosuke’s face. Had he thought she wouldn’t dress for a fight? Oka, on the other hand, looked overjoyed to be there, smiling as he shut the door behind her.

“As the official referee of this sparring match,” he announced, head high, “I decree that Rosuke will be the winner if he can disarm Mai and have her at sword point.” He strutted to the center of the room, swinging an imaginary sword to illustrate the fight. “But if Mai can defend herself for two minutes, she’ll be the winner.”

They smiled indulgently at him.

“Sounds fair, but what if we added stakes?” Rosuke suggested.

“As in?” she asked, frowning with suspicion.

“If I win in less than two minutes, I shall kiss your hand.”

Stomach flipping, she put her hands behind her back without thinking. “Now wait just a min—”

“If I win in less than a minute, I get to kiss your cheek.” He seemed to glance right at the spot he’d press his lips to, and her face reddened in response. “But…if I win in less than fifteen seconds,” he continued, meeting her gaze, “I want to kiss your mouth.”

“Bwuh—”

“What kind of stakes are those?” Oka asked, wrinkling his nose. “I’d make her do chores or something.”

Rosuke grinned. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” he said, winking at Oka.

Mai was sure the heat of her blush could be felt from a few feet away. She could even feel her pulse in her throat.

“And you, Mai? What do you want if you win?” Rosuke took a couple steps closer, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She pressed her palm to her heart, hoping the pressure would slow its rapid pace.

“The answer to a question,” Mai declared, accepting his terms. Two minutes was a long time, but all she had to do was keep her distance and hold on to her weapon. How hard could that be?

“And what question would that be?” he asked.

“What exactly were the details of your former curse?”

A glimmer of pain flashed across his face. “I see. Fair enough.” His smile no longer reached his eyes. Aware she had broached a touchy subject, she watched him with unease as he backed up to one of two marks on the floor. “Come, let us begin before our referee loses interest,” he joked, unsheathing his sword.

“If answering that is difficult for you—” she began, ready to take it back.