The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,60

lives, unaware. My brothers. Pauline. Berdi. Gwyneth. And more patrols like Walther’s who would meet their deaths, as unaware as I had once been.

I want to go with you.

Where I was going was no place for Natiya. It was hardly a place for me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

RAFE

“May I have a turn?”

I wiped the sweat dripping from my face with my sleeve. I knew a crowd was watching my sparring exercises with other soldiers, but I hadn’t known Lia was among them. I turned, following the sound of her voice. She hopped down from the paddock rail and walked toward me. I waved off the soldier who was poised to spar with me next.

I had seen her use a sword in our escape from the Sanctum, but that was in surprise attacks, and I didn’t know how well she really knew how to spar. It wouldn’t hurt for her to expand her skills.

“All right,” I answered.

“I could use the practice,” she said as she approached. “I had training with my brothers, but they emphasized dirty fighting.”

“There’s no other kind when you’re fighting for your life. First thing, let’s find a sword that’s suited for you.”

I walked over to the rack of practice swords, testing their weights. “Try this one.” It was a lighter sword that wouldn’t fatigue her arm as quickly but still had a decent reach. I selected a shield for her too.

Sven stepped forward. “Your Majesty, is this wise?”

Lia leveled a death stare at him. I knew she was already weary of every decision being deferred to me. “We’ll be fine, Colonel.”

“Astute move, Your Majesty,” Lia said under her breath. “Or I might have had to take your steward down.”

We went through a few slow thrusts and parries so she could get the feel of her weapon and then I applied more pressure.

“Don’t use your sword to block or defend unless you have to,” I said as our blows reverberated through the yard. “Advance! The sword is a killing weapon, not a defensive one. If you’re using it to defend, you’re missing a chance to kill.” I showed her how to use her shield to deflect and unbalance her opponent to her best advantage, while at the same time using her sword to thrust and cut.

“Attack!” I yelled, baiting her just as I did the other soldiers. “Attack! Don’t wait for me to wear you down! Keep me on the move! Let surprise be your ally!”

She did, in earnest. The dust kicked up around us.

The soldiers hooted. I had no doubt it was the first time they’d ever seen a woman sparring in the work yard—with their king, no less.

Her reflexes were fast and her concentration dogged—excellent qualities for a swordsman, but I had the advantage of height, weight, and strength, as most opponents she might face would.

To her advantage, she seemed to naturally understand the concept of movement and timing. Some soldiers planted their feet like trees, as if their sheer size would keep them upright. I had seen many of them felled by soldiers not much bigger than Lia. Her face glistened with sweat, and I was caught by a surge of pride.

“Watch your shins,” someone called out. I glanced toward the crowd. Kaden. Our audience had grown.

Her sword skimmed my ribs, and cheers erupted. Like a wolf tasting blood, her thrusts became ravenous, her movement a graceful chaos that kept me increasingly alert. I advanced, pressing harder, and her strikes slowed against the pressure. I knew every sinew in her shoulder had to be burning with fire.

“Go for the kill,” I yelled, “before the choice is taken from you.”

She was a fast learner, using her shield well, deflecting my blows expertly, but then a piercing horn sounded, dividing her attention. I pulled back on my swing, but not before the flat of the sword caught her in the jaw and she went flying backward to the ground. The shocked groan of the crowd ricocheted through the yard, and I rushed to her side, falling to the ground.

I gathered her into my arms. “Lia! My gods. Are you all right?” Soldiers closed in around us and I yelled for someone to get the physician.

She grimaced, reaching up to hold her jaw where the redness was already turning blue. “Stupid,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Not you. Me. Walther told me a hundred times I couldn’t let in distractions.” She pushed my hand away and opened her mouth, testing to see that her jaw was in working order. “I still have