AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cordon and Myron circled up. Myron rushed in with his muscle and finesse. Cordon dodged beautifully with a skill that even she could admire. Myron held on. He was stronger, faster, and more determined. But she saw three times when Cordon could have taken him out if he’d wanted to. Was he letting Myron win?
“Your back foot,” she cried in exasperation when it happened a fourth time. “For the gods’ sake!”
Cordon backed up quickly as Myron bellowed in rage and rushed him. They drew closer to Kerrigan until Myron was mere feet from her. Myron disarmed Cordon, and the sword went flying, landing in the sand before the door.
Both men were panting, but Myron was watching her with flames in his eyes. “What the hell are you screeching about?”
“Your footwork!” she said as if it were obvious. The men were just looking at her in shock. “He could have defeated you at least four times. I have no idea why he’s holding back.”
Myron tilted his head back to the sun and laughed in her face. “Sure, sweetie. My footwork is off.”
Anger brought heat to her cheeks. “It’s not my fault you have a weakness for your back foot. Anyone could exploit it. You’re all in desperate need of training.”
“If you’re so certain, then pick up the sword and give me a try,” Myron said.
The men laughed as if it were a joke. But the sword was right there. All she had to do was cross the line and pick up the sword, and she could lay him on his ass in a few seconds flat. She didn’t even need her magic to humiliate him. To prove that she was worth training.
“Myron!” Evander snapped. “Cut it out. We all need work. The tournament isn’t far off.”
Myron was still looking at her, egging her on. “Didn’t think so.”
And that was the straw.
She stepped forward, her toes hitting the hot sand. She kicked out with her right foot, and the sword went sailing upward, then landed in her hand. Theo choked on his own spit at the sight. Even Myron looked momentarily surprised. Evander just looked impressed.
“Don’t move a muscle.”
She shuddered at Constantine’s breath on her neck. He’d snuck up on her. He must have heard all the commotion and come to retrieve her. She’d walked right into a trap.
Scales.
“I explicitly told you not to come down here.”
“You told me not to step onto the grounds,” she fired back.
“And where are you right now?” he demanded, coming into the light for his men to see.
She roiled with anger. She’d let Myron bait her onto the practice grounds. She’d wanted to prove herself, and all she was getting was a reprimand.
“He challenged me,” she accused. “You can’t blame me for accepting it.”
“He will be dealt with. You will return to your tutoring session.”
“Then what?” she asked, fully aware that she was still in possession of a sword. And oh, how she thrummed with relief to have it there.
“We will determine what to do with you.”
“You didn’t buy me to be Danae’s friend. You didn’t buy me to be a gladiator. What other option is there?”
“Go to your tutoring session, and we can figure it out.”
Sparks flicked at his fingers at her disrespect. And she hardly cared. She half-wanted the fight just to prove that she could take him. Except she couldn’t. Not with his magic and her without. Even with some magic resistance, it wasn’t the same as what she had been.
She let the sword drop from her hand. She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t win. Not against magic.
She tilted her chin up to look at him. “I wasn’t wrong though. His footwork was abysmal.”
11
The Demand
Danae was dancing with a blond-haired young man when Kerrigan entered the study, still fuming.
A much older man was whacking a reed against his leg to the tempo and counting out, “One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Danae’s partner noticed Kerrigan first. He immediately dropped Danae’s hand and fell forward into an exaggerated bow. The older man gaped at her appearance. The tempo fell away, and they were all left in silence.
“Ah,” Danae said. “This is our second. I apologize for her lateness.”
“A Doma’s time is their own,” the older man said with a tilt of his head in her direction. His fully gray hair tipped forward against his forehead at the gesture.
“My lady,” the younger man said, still not looking up.
“I’m not a Doma,” Kerrigan said.
“But, but … you look …” the younger man blabbered.
She sighed. “I know. What is this lesson?”
She was impatient and irritable. Everything that had happened in the yard only fed her discomfort. Constantine was never going to let her train. She saw only one possibility of why he wanted to train her up in more delicate sensibilities. He might have saved her from Tarcus, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have other plans for her.
