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To his credit, Dixon didn’t begin giggling until the fourth time she got caught up in her own legs. Connell didn’t have such restraint. He seemed downright jolly for someone who commanded nearly two hundred militia. Perhaps it was only because his lover had joined them, and she seemed to be having a good day.
“Let’s run through a few basic throws and see how you fare with those.” Connell posed Mòr a few times, showing Lila a basic throw she’d drilled for years.
Lila paid more attention than she had in academy training. She listened to every correction that Connell made as she flipped Dixon over her back. Dixon’s lack of words seemed to help even more. He merely pushed and shoved her into place, thumbing each muscle that needed to be altered.
She’d been doing some things wrong, things her trainers had never corrected. The group worked on the throw for ten minutes straight, only moving on to a second when Lila grew bored.
They spent the rest of the lesson alternating drills on the two throws, with Lila tugging her attackers over her back and dropping them onto the mat or shoving them off balance with a foot around the calf and a palm to the shoulder. She flipped and shoved a never-ending line of Connell, Dixon, and Nico, with brief, occasional pauses for the men to offer tips to improve her form.
Mòr sat against the wall.
Lila knew why she stayed away. She didn’t want to have another seizure after touching her.
“Fighting is a dance, Lila,” Nico said when they broke from drills and began to spar, Connell watching their every movement. Dixon sat beside Mòr, listening intently as she chatted at his side. “Do you like to dance?”
Lila nodded.
“Fighting is the same thing: action and reaction. You have to accept the dance. Stop fighting against your partner and just let it happen.”
“I thought fighting was the point.”
“Not for you. Not yet.”
Nico feinted toward her, and she flipped him over her back.
She pinned him before he hopped up this time, managing to grasp his arms in a lock so that he could not grab her.
“Who’s been pinned now?” Connell gloated.
It was the first and last time Lila managed to pin him at full speed, and it had nothing to do with dancing and everything to do with sheer annoyance.
Stop fighting so you can fight?
What the fuck did that even mean?
After fifteen minutes of sparring, Connell called for the pair to halt. “You’re doing better already. I suspect your trainers blew past the basics too quickly. Some people need more time than others to master it.”
Lila frowned.
No one had ever called her stupid before.
Connell clapped her shoulder. “No one is perfect at everything. You’re a damn sight faster than most men in my militia. Nico had to haul ass to keep up with you, and he’s one of the fastest.”
The compliment made her feel marginally better.
“Forget Nico’s nonsense about dancing,” Connell continued. “The mat isn’t a dance floor. You need to be a panther like my Mòr to win a fight. Move fast. Slip through your opponent’s fingers. Pick your moment and strike.”
Lila did not reply.
Panthers?
Dancing?
What was she even supposed to say to that?
After a few moments of leisurely stretching, Lila and Dixon returned to their cabin to shower, then walked to Mòr’s home for a quiet dinner.
