“It doesn’t matter. Nothing that endangers us in any way.” He hurried on before I could argue. “I wanted a light, slashing weapon for you, one with a good amount of reach, to keep opponents farther away.” He gestured to the saber with his own weapon, a blindingly quick stab of blue. “You’ll be moving around a lot, using speed instead of brute force against your enemies. That blade won’t block heavier weapons, and you don’t have the strength to swing a longsword effectively, so we’re going to have to teach you how to dodge. This was the best choice.”
“But this is steel,” I repeated, listening to him in amazement. He could teach a class with his knowledge of weapons and fighting. “Why a real sword? I could seriously hurt someone.”
“Meghan.” Ash gave me a patient look. “That’s exactly why I chose it. You have an advantage with that weapon that none of us can touch. Even the most violent redcap will think twice about facing a real, mortal blade. It won’t scare the Iron fey, of course, but that’s where training will come in.”
“But…but what if I hit you?”
A snort. “You’re not going to hit me.”
“How do you know?” I bristled at his amused tone. “I could hit you. Even master swordsmen make mistakes. I could get a lucky shot, or you might not see me coming. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He favored me with another patient look. “And how much experience do you have with swords and weapons in general?”
“Um.” I glanced down at the saber in my hand. “Thirty seconds?”
He smiled, that calm, irritatingly confident smirk. “You’re not going to hit me.”
I scowled. Ash chuckled, then raised his weapon and stalked forward, all amusement gone. “Although,” he continued, sliding into predator mode with no effort at all, “I do want you to try.”
I gulped and backed away. “Now? Don’t I get a warm-up or something? I don’t even know how to hold the thing properly.”
“Holding it is easy.” Ash slid closer, circling me like a wolf. One finger pointed to the tip of his blade. “The sharp end goes in first.”
“That’s so not helpful, Ash.”
He smiled grimly and continued to stalk. “Meghan, I would love to teach you properly, from the beginning, but that takes years, centuries, even. And since we don’t have that kind of time, I’m giving you the condensed version. Besides, the best way to learn is by doing.” He jabbed at me with his sword, nowhere near coming close, but I jumped anyway. “Now, try to hit me. And don’t hold back.”
I didn’t want to, but I had asked him to teach me, after all. Bunching my muscles, I gave a feeble yell and lunged, stabbing at him with the tip.
Ash slid aside. In the space of a blink, his sword licked out, slapping my ribs with the flat of the blade. I shrieked as I felt the bite of absolute cold through my shirt, and glared at him.
“Dammit, Ash, that hurt!”
He gave me a humorless smile. “Then don’t get hit.”
My ribs throbbed. There’d probably be a welt there this evening. For a moment, I was tempted to throw down the blade and stalk back to the house. But I swallowed my pride and faced him again, resolved. I needed this. I needed to learn to defend myself, and the ones I cared about. I could take a few bruised ribs, if it meant saving a life one day.
Ash brandished his sword in an expert manner and cocked two fingers at me. “Again.”
For the rest of the morning, we practiced. Or, more accurately, I tried to hit Ash and received more swats that stung and burned their way through my clothes. He didn’t do it every time, and he never once cut me, but I became paranoid about getting hit. After several more thwaps that stung my pride as well as my skin, I tried switching to full defense mode, and Ash started attacking me.
I got hit a lot more.
Anger burned, flaring up after each swat, each effortless smack that left my skin tingling with failure. He wasn’t being fair. He had years, decades even, of swordplay, and he wasn’t even giving me a chance. He was toying with me instead of teaching me how to fend off his attacks. This wasn’t a lesson, this was just him showing off.
Finally, my temper snapped. After desperately fending off a series of blindingly quick thrusts, I received a swat to my backside that ignited a rage. Screaming, I flew at Ash, intending to hit him this time, to at least smack that calm efficiency off his face.
This time, Ash didn’t dodge or block, but spun and caught me around the waist as I charged past. Dropping his sword, he snatched my wrist in one hand and pulled me to his chest, holding me and the blade still as I cursed and struggled.
“There,” he murmured in a voice of weary satisfaction. “That’s what I was looking for.”
Though still angry, I stopped fighting him. My senses buzzed and I held myself rigid in his arms. “What?” I snarled. “Me to get so pissed I wanted to stab you in the eye?”