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They faced one another again, their eyes meeting in an unflinching gaze. Murdina was certain of her strategy. She would allow him to think he was winning, all the while watching his movements, allowing him to tire before she made her parting strike. He moved first, lunging forward in what seemed his classic attack.
“I have beaten many men in battle, Murdina; I am certain of it,” he said, catching her sword with his.
“But ye cannae remember any of them. I remember every battle I have fought, every man I have defeated,” she said, for she had never met a woman to serve as an opponent–even Aoife was not skilled with the sword, though with the bow she could shoot a bird in flight.
“Have you ever been beaten?” he asked, raising his sword to strike.
“Never,” she replied, and she lunged forward with a cry, catching him off guard.
But to her surprise, he spun around, as though expecting her movement, and caught her unawares. She had but a moment to react, bringing her sword to bear on his, catching him within inches of defeat.
“Do not let your guard down, though,” he said, their eyes locked, as their swords became as one.
“And never become complacent,” she heard her sword master say, and with a sharp twist, she pulled her sword around and struck him on the side, causing him to cry out as he fell awkwardly to the floor.
Once again, his sword flew from his hand, and she had him in her power, pointing her sword at his chest as he shook his head and laughed.
“Very well, I admit defeat. You are the better swordsman– swordswoman–and I am in awe of you,” he said.
Murdina sheathed her sword, grateful to him for being a worthy opponent.
“Ye almost had me at one point–it was close,” she said, reaching down to help him up.
He took hold of her hand, but instead of rising to his feet, he pulled her forward, so she fell on top of him.
“Goodness,” she gasped as he had her in his grip.
“A more equal match, perhaps?” he replied, smiling up at her.
Their eyes met, and so did their lips–a moment unexpected, unplanned, and uncertain. He held her to him, and she clasped at him, taken up by surprising passions. As their lips parted, she sat up, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. He smiled at her, and she felt the warmth rising in her cheeks–she had never kissed a man before, other than Cillian, and the feeling it left her with–a feeling of desire, of wanting more–was new to her, strange, even, but not unpleasant.
“We shouldnae linger here too long,” she said, straightening her dress, and he nodded, getting up from the floor and dusting himself off.
“Will they miss you?” he asked, and Murdina shrugged.
“I told them I was goin’ to bed, but the night patrol will make their tour of the castle soon, and it would be just our fortune if they were to check the library, too,” she replied, taking up her sword belt and beginning to extinguish the candles in their sconces.
Kin was watching her, and she felt his eyes following her around the room–did he desire more? Did he feel guilt for what he had done? Her feelings were confused, and Murdina wondered what this moment of intimacy could mean for them both.
“I shall slip back up to my chambers. I left them unlocked, and I doubt your friend Cillian is diligent enough to check on me at this hour,” Kin said as Murdina opened the library door and peered cautiously out onto the gallery.
All was quiet, and no sounds drifted up from the great hall below. A single torch burned in an alcove by the far door, and she beckoned Kin to follow her, hurrying quickly down the steps and past the portraits of her ancestors who seemed to peer down at her disapprovingly from the wall.
“Daenae mock Cillian. He is a good man,” she replied, turning to Kin, who shrugged.
“I know nothing of anyone–is that not the problem?” he asked, and she shook her head, her feelings towards him confused and uncertain.
“Ye will remember, I am sure. But for now… we must both go to our beds,” she said, and they parted awkwardly on the stairway.
“I can only. But until tomorrow, I have enjoyed our time together,” he replied with a curt bow and smile.
Murdina waited for his footsteps to disappear, sighing to herself as she made a circuitous route to bed. She might have been the victor in their sparring, but he had defeated her with his kiss–she felt a fool for allowing herself to be so taken up by a man she barely knew and could hardly trust.
Caution, Murdina, she said to herself, repeating the words she knew her sister would have spoken had she been alive to offer her advice–she knew nothing of the man she had shared such intimacies with and as she made herself ready for bed that night, Murdina could not help but wonder if in her enthusiasm she were not making a terrible mistake…
