“Don’t push your luck, Queen’s bastard,” Shew said, still swinging. She slashed at a lock of his beautiful hair.
“The last girl who called me that got what she deserved,” Loki took a step back and stopped. He snatched his lock of hair from mid air, looking upset. He even tucked it in his pocket, “bastard or jerk?” he gazed back at her, playfully. “Make up your mind.”
Again, Shew doubted they said ‘jerk’ in the 19th century, but out of sheer silliness, Shew snarled at him. It didn’t scare him. He got closer and swung his sword again.
“Nasty,” he said.
—clink.
“Bastard,” she swung at him.
—clink.
“Vulgar,” he swung back, both of them working their feet in the moving tree branches.
—clink.
“Arrogant,” she tried to swing harder.
—clink.
“Bratty princess,” he stopped her and pushed her back.
Shew held onto a vine and swung with it through the air, landing far from him.
Loki stood puzzled, amazed by her acrobatic endeavor. “Monkey!” he said, and grabbed another vine, following her move.
She jumped back on the ground, and Loki followed.
The swinging continued with swords clinking in the dead of the night.
Loki slashed at her dress again, baring her other shoulder.
“You like my dress, huh?” she sighed and hit harder.
“Delay killing me for too long, and you’ll end up naked princess,” he raised an eyebrow.
“But alive?” Shew pressed her sword against his with all her might, their faces close now. Loki was taken back by her words and stare. He looked puzzled, wondering why he liked her so much. Shew didn’t mind if the only way to outlive him was seducing him. She’d spared him once, and she’d expected him to spare her.
“Nice try,” Loki pushed her back, changing his mind. “I eat girls like you for breakfast.”
“Not if I slit your throat the night before,” Shew grit her teeth, and … again … she swung hard.
“I’m just stalling,” he said. “I’m enjoying this tremendously. Did you know I could swing with both hands?” He winked at her.
“You just can’t admit I’m stronger,” Shew said.
Loki wasn’t provoked. He was really enjoying this, and Shew knew it, but it was going nowhere. She wasn’t going to spend all night bantering with him.
“So tell me, princess,” he said, “if you could be anything you want to be, what would that be? And don’t say princess,” Loki spoke as he swung with one hand the other resting on his waist.
“Not funny,” she said, as her arm began hurting. “When will you understand that Carmilla has you by the balls?”
“Balls?” Loki was stuck with her face to face, sword to sword, each one pushing their sword against the other. Their faces reddened. “I don’t have balls.”
“Of course, you do,” Shew omitted a laugh and pushed him away. “You’re just two centuries too old to realize you do.”
In a swift and accurate move, Loki pushed her back and slashed at her lips.
Shew stood paralyzed.
She’d actually felt the tip of the sword on her lips, like a paper cut. If she’d doubted he was going to kill her for a moment, she had to reevaluate the situation. This was his first true warning.
“Shhh,” Loki had his forefinger on his lips. His stare wasn’t funny anymore, filled with sinister mockery. He was just a charming mass murderer. It was at this very moment she sensed that he had enough of having fun with the feisty princess he’d admired briefly.
Strike, Shew, strike! One more moment of hesitation and he’ll kill you.
Shew slashed hard at Loki’s arm. When her sword met his flesh, she didn’t pull away. She cut hard through it like a cake. Her guts churned from the inside, but she had to do it. She thought the wound would slow him down and allow her to escape on her unicorn.
Loki held his arm and looked at it as if no one had ever dared to injure him before. He returned his gaze to her, and Shew feared his wrath even more. He had the same look in his eyes he had when he was at Furry Tell.
Out of fear, she slashed at his other arm, forcing him to drop his sword.
Loki glared at her with snake-yellow eyes now. A tight scream escaped him briefly, but then he swallowed it. He was not going to show he was in pain. Still, he sank to his knees from the pain.
Shew did her best not to feel sorry for him, imagining he was someone else.
In his pain, his veins surfaced on his neck and arms. As Shew looked closer she noticed that they weren’t his veins, but his Ariadne Fleece running through his body. Carmilla, wherever she was, must have pulled it harder, urging him to get up, and he did, empowered by the Fleece.
For the first time, Shew realized she wasn’t only fighting Loki, but Carmilla Karnstein as well.
Loki stood up. There wasn’t the slightest sign of playfulness on his face.
He was going to kill her mercilessly.