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“If you detect one, far be it from me to disagree with a lady.”
She tossed her head, flinging back her hair, and stepped to the left, moving her sword in a backswing arc.
He stepped to the side and deflected it lightly away rather than engaging, then swept free and slid his feet backward.
“Aye, you are good, Katarina.”
“I know.”
A loud crash broke the silence of the room as he kicked a bench out of the way.
“Who trained you?”
“Just the boys.”
He grinned. “The boys, is it?”
“Wicker.” She paused. “And Walter gave me a few tips.”
He laughed.
She lunged.
*
DOWN IN THE BAILEY, Cormac and Ré were returning from the barracks, where they’d conducted yet another fruitless session with the Rardove old guard, all of whom were younger than they. Striding across the bailey, they glanced up at the high tower as they passed beneath.
Two of the hinged windows were pushed open, and there were tinkling sounds and faint smashes, coming from within…was that metal? Or glass? And then…a male laugh?
“What do you think is going on?” Ré inquired grimly.
Cormac stopped and listened, then scratched his chin. “Sounds to me like a swordfight.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Ré started walking again.
“You dinna think he’s fighting with her, do you?”
“He might be doing anything. He’s already done things I’ve never seen him do before.”
“Well, there’s a frightening thought, isn’t it, seeing as the list of things Aodh’ll do is long and notorious.”
“I know.” Ré was silent a moment. “Son of a bitch.”
A shout disrupted the continuation of this considered opinion. Another rider had just returned.
*
“YOU LOOK GOOD, lass. Your chemise…” Aodh swiped his free hand down the front of his body. “All wet.”
She gasped, but there was nothing to be done. “I hate you.”
He laughed.
“Moreover, the queen will hate you.”
“Some days, the feeling is mutual.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
