I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “How was it not his fault?”
“He was set up.” He walked to a sword, pulled the hilt, and then inspected the blade by spinning it in his hands. All the while remaining nonchalant.
“By who? How do you know this?” I asked with insistence.
“I would think that after my conversation with you last night you would have figured out that I have been following you.”
“Ah, well, I also recall that you refused to answer any of my questions, and I still don’t understand how you know about the set up.”
His eyes rested on me, taking in everything they could. I almost felt exposed with the way he stared, as though he could glimpse right to my soul. Before I could say something about that, he said, “Pick up your sword.”
He pointed to mine with the tip of his.
I hesitated, wanting to question his seriousness but thought better of it as I walked over to my sword. The excitement in me almost burst. I was about to take some of my frustrations out on him, and I wouldn’t hold back. By the time I turned around with my sword in hand, he had already advanced on me. The element of surprise was very much his strong suit. I fought him off the best I could. But he was fast—incredibly fast. Too fast to be human. But I didn’t have time to think about that while deflecting each swing of his sword with my own.
“Breathe,” he instructed, nearly purring the word.
I let out a breath, not realizing that I had been holding it the entire time.
Our swords clanked against each other, hitting hard. Thrill, excitement, and, strangely, a heated, powerful passion ignited within my center. I couldn’t help the way my body felt to move faster than I’d ever moved before. I twisted and dodged his attacks while he did the same to mine. Moving together in perfect unison.
Just as I fell into the rhythm of our dance, he spun so he stood behind me. He held his blade to my throat with one hand and gripped my wrist that held my sword with the other. His body pressed against mine, hard as stone. A pulsating rush ran through my veins.
“Don’t think, just do,” he whispered into my ears, sending tingles down my spine with the warmth of his breath, increasing the rush.
“How can you not be out of breath?” I spoke through gritted teeth, still holding a hate for Marren, despite what this dual did to me. I rammed my elbow into his side, forcing him to release me.
“Many years of practice.” His words came out with little effort, along with another attack that disarmed me.
My sword slid across the floor, spinning several rotations before settling with its point in our direction. The crisp slice of his blade on my neck brought my attention back to him. I glared into Marren’s eyes only to have the scowl dissipate as own reflection stared back at me. I lowered my gaze, submitting to my second defeat.
Marren lowered his sword as Enid walked up to take it and then stepped closer to me, pulling up a part of my hood and lifting the hair from my neck with a gentle graze of his hand to reveal the cut. The touch lingering long after his hand was gone. My heart flipped.
Stupid heart.
His brow furrowed as he placed a cloth against the cut with one hand and his other on the lower part of my back, holding me against him. He put enough pressure on my neck that I had to grab a hold of his arm to prevent myself from falling over. The warmth in his skin was surprisingly soothing.
“Sorry,” he said low.
“I’ve had worse, trust me.” I worked to control my breathing through the stinging of the cut, the pressure he had placed on it, and the fact that he stood against me and that didn’t bother me. I rather enjoyed the closeness, much to my dismay. My mind started to spin with the conflict. I forced my focus to other things, resisting meeting his gaze again for fear of losing myself completely.
“You shouldn’t keep yourself so guarded,” he said. His voice so soft it brought a nervous chuckle out of me. I was losing my mind. I enjoyed standing against his body, having his warmth seep into my skin too much. I couldn’t resist staring into his eyes any longer. Confusion flashed across his face. Had I done something to upset him?
He removed the cloth from my neck. The need for me to keep ahold of him dissipated, but I didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t until he started to back away that I followed his lead by releasing my grip on him.
“At least the bleeding stopped.” His words matched his expression of confusion. He walked to my sword, picked it up then brought it to me. “She’s yours.”
He smiled a blazing, heart racing smile. One I couldn’t help but return with one of my own. I took the sword, unworthy of such a beautiful gift thought grateful nonetheless.
“Thank you.” My gratitude came out meek and sounding like a question.