Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,51
portraits of her family with her.”
“I think they all burned in the fire when the Ruined attacked.”
“I figured. I thought I might try to track one down, as a surprise. I’ve sent someone out to work on it.” She smiled at him. “But don’t tell her. I don’t want to get her hopes up if I can’t find one.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Cas.” She squeezed his arm as she walked past. “She’s about to beat that warrior. And I suspect King Lucio sent the best.”
Cas turned to look. Mary leaned away from Iria’s attack, knocking her arm away as she jabbed the dull tip into the warrior’s chest.
“I win,” Mary said breathlessly.
Cas returned his gaze to his mother to find nothing but empty hallway. He caught a glimpse of her skirts as they disappeared around the corner.
Iria laughed, drawing Cas’s attention back to them. “I will get you next time.”
“Or you could get me right now, if you’d like to go again.” Mary spread her arms wide in invitation.
“I’d like to go,” Cas said, stepping out of the doorway. The women turned, Mary’s smile faltering as their eyes met.
“Your Highness, I didn’t see you there,” the trainer said, straightening and adjusting his collar. “Would you like me to get your practice gear?”
“No, thank you,” Cas said, stepping into the room. Mary’s gaze followed him as he came closer.
“You know, I was told by castle staff that you don’t allow people to watch you practice,” Iria said, her hands on her hips, the sword dangling from two fingers. “They say it’s so no one knows your secrets and tricks.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I told them it was probably because you were terrible and didn’t want anyone to know.”
He laughed, holding his hand out for her sword. “Let’s see then, shall we?” He looked at Mary as Iria dropped the dull blade into his hand. “If you’d like.”
“If you promise not to let me win.”
“Why would I let you win?”
A hint of a smile appeared on her face again, and he decided he would never let her win at anything, ever, if she was going to look at him like that.
“And let’s not tell my father I let you stay while we did this,” he said to Iria as he rolled his sleeves up.
“It’s your father who doesn’t want people to watch you?” Mary asked.
“He thinks a royal’s skills in battle are better kept a secret.”
“He may be right about that.”
He walked across the floor to stand in front of her. “I never thought I’d hear you say my father was right about anything.”
“Don’t tell him I said so.”
“Never.”
She began to lift her sword, then stopped, cocking her head. “What battle is he preparing you for? You don’t need a sword to battle the Ruined.”
“He used one against Wenda Flores.”
“I guess he did.” She arched an eyebrow. “Had you ever met a Ruined before Damian was captured?”
“No.” He glanced at Iria, uncomfortable having this conversation in front of a warrior. He held his sword out in front of him. “Are we sparring, or are we talking?”
Mary lifted her sword, narrowing her eyes.
Iria counted them down, and Mary made the first move. He easily blocked her.
She was deliberately being slow and careful at first, to assess how he handled himself. He could see it in the way she watched him. It was interesting, considering her temper seemed to get the best of her in other situations.
He lunged forward and she went back, the metal of their swords sounding off the walls as they met. He tried to back her into a corner, but she ducked suddenly, darting around to the other side of him.
Her eyes raged with something he didn’t quite understand as their swords met again. It was more than anger, and he couldn’t tell if it was directed at him. He hoped it wasn’t, because if it had been a real sword in her hand, she might have killed him.
He moved forward, obviously quicker than she had been expecting, because she stumbled and he lightly struck her on her left arm.
“One,” Iria said.
She took a step back, her breathing heavy. They circled each other, and he waited for her to lunge first again. When she came at him he met her blow, moving forward and back as she attacked.
He’d only ever sparred with his trainers and Galo, and it was different with Mary. He was distracted by the way a piece of hair had escaped from its