could see her neck had snapped under the blow. There was nothing he could do for her now.
He dropped the crossbow, readied his remaining stiletto, and headed for the stairs.
"Magiere!" Leesil shouted as he started running.
* * *
Magiere scrambled across the bedroom floor and snatched the falchion lying on her small desk.
"Get out!" she shouted from instinct, not expecting the nobleman to obey.
He didn't answer, but lunged and swung hard with his own sword. She dodged, and his blow landed on the desk. Wood shattered into pieces and the blade's tip embedded in the floor. He jerked it out effortlessly.
No one was that strong. The room felt small with no space for Magiere to maneuver, but then her opponent was also limited. She spun on one knee around the bed's end and onto her feet, her opponent sliding sideways across the floor to match her. In the low lamplight, his eyes were transparent, gazing calmly into hers. Anger overcame fear. Who was this bastard to think he could invade her home—her room?
"Coward," she snapped at him. Rage grew inside her until it threatened to overcome reason. Her falchion snapped up until it reached the ceiling, and she aimed for his neck, swinging with all the anger she felt. He blocked, but the blow's force made him step back and lose his balance. With both blades still locked, she slammed her free fist into his jaw.
More shocked than hurt, he used his free hand to shove her backward. Magiere toppled onto the bed like a moth he'd swiped aside.
"Hunter," he said simply and struck down with his long blade again.
She rolled off the bed's far side as the long sword struck her quilt with a flat-sounding swat. There was no room in here to use maneuvers against him. He would kill her by sheer force. That thought would have been enough to terrify anyone, but her rage multiplied so quickly she didn't even try to understand it.
Hatred became strength flowing through her body, making her movements quicker than ever before. Instinctively shifting for small openings, she tried to find some way to get behind him or take him off balance. He kept turning to face her. They shifted back and forth around or across the small room, making flailing slashes at each other. But there was never an opening, never an instant where she could rush the door or duck under his swing to come up on his flank or rear.
Once more shifting to the far side of the bed, she threw herself to roll across it. The nobleman made another dash to follow her across the room. When he did, she stopped short, crouched upon the bed, and struck out with the falchion so fast he didn't have time to block. Boots skidding on the floor, he tried to pull back, his torso leaning away from her swing. The blow missed his collarbone, but sliced a shallow gash down his chest.
"What—"
The rest of his words were lost in a gasping inhale. His wide-eyed gaze shifted to Magiere's sword. As his brow creased in pain, his teeth snapped together hard and clenched. Shock got the better of him, and his grip on his own sword faltered as its point dragged through the debris of the desk.
Magiere couldn't answer him, couldn't remember how to speak. She didn't want to cut him with the blade anymore. She wanted to rip his throat out. The front of her jaws began to ache and would not close completely, as if her teeth had shifted, or grown. Confusion lost her the advantage she'd gained.
When she finally lunged, he had regained his balance, but not his faltering grip on his sword. He released the weapon from his right hand and snatched her sword arm's wrist with his left. Using her weight and momentum, he spun around to slam her against the wall between the door and wardrobe. His now empty right hand clamped around her throat.
She instinctively grabbed his wrist with her free hand. He smashed her sword arm against the side of the wardrobe twice, but Magiere's grip on the weapon wouldn't release.
"I don't need a weapon to kill you," he whispered at her, real emotion leaking into his voice for the first time. "You need to breathe."
Her body bucked wildly as she tried to throw him off, but he held like stone, waiting for her to suffocate.
Magiere lost awareness that her breathing had stopped. Loss of air now made room for her to grow, as