Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,71

as he clenched his jaw and then swung. Quinn sidestepped out of the way and went down on one knee, bringing her own blade up to halt the assaulting weapon. Draeven’s eyes widened as he jerked it back and away. She knew he wasn’t expecting her to be any good at this. Men always loved to overlook her, forgetting not only what she was, but in this case, where she came from.

Quinn jerked her foot out and Draeven stumbled before righting himself. She popped to her feet and resumed circling.

“She-wolf is strong,” Vaughn commented from the sidelines as he spoke to Dominicus. Dominicus grunted, though it was neither an affirmation nor a negation of the fact that he was right.

“That was smart,” Draeven complimented her. “Getting physically closer to throw off your opponent.”

Quinn lifted an eyebrow and sighed. “Yes, I know,” she said in a mocking tone. “That’s why I did it.” She thrust her sword out and Draeven blocked it with one arm while the other shot out and gripped Quinn’s neck as her body came too close to his.

Quinn’s eyes widened and she dropped one hand from her sword to grab onto Draeven’s wrist as he lifted her slightly up on her toes. He smirked. “Don’t get too arrogant.”

She was going to make him eat dirt for that.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, sinking her nails into his hand as she unleashed a long tendril of fear. The thing hardened and slithered up Draeven’s hand from where he held her. Cursing, he dropped her and stumbled back. Quinn pivoted, swinging her sword and aimed for his neck. Before her blade could meet flesh, Draeven jerked his own up. Metal clashed on metal, the clang echoing over the training grounds.

Draeven grunted as he pulled back and swung again, throwing so much weight behind it that all Quinn could do to keep her hand from bending backwards was let go. Her blade fell from her grasp, landing on the carefully brushed soil as she stepped sideways and Draeven fell. Landing face first where she wanted him.

He rolled sideways and glared at her as he spat out a glob of dirt. “You could have beheaded me,” he said as he climbed to his feet.

Quinn shrugged as she leaned down and picked up her sword. “It’s training. If someone comes at you with a sword, they’re not going to stop.” She turned away and started towards the end of the field.

“Yeah, well, be more careful next time,” he called back.

Quinn pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder. “You might want to get over your fear of slithery animals,” she retorted.

“She-wolf Quinn is vicious in training,” Vaughn said as she approached. “Strong build. You’d make good wife.”

Quinn blanched as she dropped her sword against a nearby tree. “Uh … thank you?”

Siva—Thorne’s wife—approached dressed in tight leather shorts and a small band around her breasts. Her bare stomach was toned, though it still bore the faint lines of having carried a child. She stopped before Quinn.

“Where did you learn to fight?” she asked, her Norcastan far better than most of the Cisean’s.

Quinn shrugged. “Wherever I could,” she replied vaguely. In truth, being a slave in Norcastan borders meant she wasn’t without company. Soldiers from Jibreal and Bangratas were with her—and in return for her help translating, they taught her a great deal about fighting with more than hands and teeth. They taught her the sword, then the dagger, and before long she progressed onto weapons such as the halberd that the Cisean people so loved.

But the dagger was where her heart lie. One day she was going to return to her homeland for restitution, and when she did, she would skin the people who thought to sell her into slavery to begin with. But that was for another time. Another place.

Behind them, several women fought with halberds—the clattering of weapons echoing up into the tree tops. Siva looked Quinn over, her gaze assessing.

“Why do you ask?” Quinn continued, prompting her.

Siva reached behind her, retrieving a short rod that had been attached to the back of her belt. “You fight with this?”

Quinn took the offered rod. It was no longer than her forearm. She frowned down at it. “I suppose I could,” she replied. She’d trained with a number of weapons, but never this.

Siva nodded and then gestured to another woman. A blonde with dark brown eyes approached and held out her own rod. Draeven moved to the other side of Dominicus, sheathing his sword and