The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 34





“Two! Three! Five!” Savoy called parry numbers as he advanced on Den, but his mind kept slipping to Renee’s apparent friendship with Jasper. It had been three days since her visit. Did the girl know the fire she toyed with? How long until Jasper turned and hurt her? “It’s a blade, not a club, Den.” Savoy pulled the blow, cracking the wood against the larger man’s clavicle instead of his skull. “And five protects the head. Which, unless your head is up your ass, makes it a high parry.”

Den rubbed the new red mark. “You held back. Don’t.”

Cocking a brow, Savoy threw him a square pad, let the man brace the target, and focused on a point well beyond the padded leather. His muscles snapped like a whip; hip, shoulder, and arm engaging before the blade. The thump echoed through the salle.

Den stumbled. “Good gods.” He gasped, cradling the arm despite the pad’s protection. “That is how you fight, then? When the stakes are real?”

“On occasion. I favor speed and precision over power.”

“Is it more effective?”

Savoy shrugged. “Preference born of childhood habit. I did not come into my height until my late teens and speed gave me an edge. Your size well complements a strength-based style, however.” Den stowed away the abused target.

“The day you found me fumbling with a blade, I didn’t see you enter.” Den jerked his chin at the pad. “You could have split open my skull, dull wood or not.”

“An error in judgment I am fast regretting.”

The corners of Den’s mouth twitched. “The girl who came here last week, she knew you.”

Savoy twirled his sword to ease the clench in his stomach. “Harness your brain to your sword.”

“No wench in her right mind risks remaining alone with an unrestrained Predator.” Den parried a blow. “Not unless she knows him.” The man’s self-satisfied amusement faded to a serious tone. “Better she keep away. It’s not safe for either of you.”

“That wench will fillet you from crotch to chin if you get a blade in her hand. And if you call her that again, I’ll grant your wish of not pulling strikes.” He realized his knuckles turned white in their grip and relaxed his hold, focusing on the clack-clacking wood. “Want to worry about a girl? Worry about your daughter.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Den shook his head. “Have you ever been hungry, Cat? The kind of hungry when you resent a stray dog his bone? Or lived on a street so violent that each time your mother stepped from the house, you feared she’d not return?” He twisted the blade. “The Madam is a harsh mistress, but she keeps order. The Vipers, and only the Vipers, rule Catar now. So long as I obey, the food I buy is mine to keep and Mia is safe even from the guards with a taste for children. It was not thus before she took the Viper throne and tripled its influence.”

Savoy shook his head. “You’re a slave.”

“I’m a slave with the whip instead of the shackles. It could be worse. Was worse.”

“There are cities beyond Catar.” Savoy rubbed his wrists. “The others say you won the Freedom Fight.”

Den snorted. “The Madam needed a trainer around the time Mia was born. They killed her mother for trying to escape and came to me, knowing I wouldn’t risk leaving. We put on a show and I traded my binds for my daughter. No one leaves the Vipers, Cat. Not alive, they don’t.”