they’re all gone now. When Sensei Mick succumbed to the virus, then his sons died in short order, his wife killed herself in her grief. Only Henny is left from the entire Sonata clan. She’s the only one left to pass on the knowledge her father’s line kept sacred for generations.”
Tigh was touched by the woman’s loss. “If I have anything to say about it, her knowledge will be passed on. Her clan will not have died in vain. Together, Ginny, we can be the means for all those who have lost so much to begin to rebuild.”
He could see tears gathering in her lovely eyes as she gazed up at him. Tears that he would never allow in his own eyes, though he felt them in his heart. She would cry for both of them, though he knew she would fight to keep a strong front for her crew. He squeezed her hand, offering what comfort he could.
“It’s a noble goal, Tigh. It’s the reason I initially agreed to your plan.”
“Initially?”
A secretive smile bloomed over her lovely face. “I’ve since found other reasons.”
Tigh liked the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Such as?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
“The babies, perhaps?” His smiled broadened as he winked. “Or how we made them?”
The enchanting flush on her cheeks was his answer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Henny called for kumite, and the group set to work. She supervised as the women paired off and tried the new moves she’d set before them. The eyes of the men watching all around unnerved her, but she couldn’t let it show. Still, she noted the various looks of admiration, lust, distrust and disdain aimed at them from all sides.
The admiration and lust were easily dealt with, trust could be earned, but the disdain ate at her craw. Henny knew some sort of statement would need to be made. She’d seen it before with warriors in her father’s dojo. Whether male or female, when one fighter was underestimated, the best remedy was to prove otherwise.
Henny looked around the room and made note of the most antagonistic looks. Sizing up the few men who really seemed to be sneering at her and her women, she knew she could take them. She’d made a study of the jit’suku fighting methods for years alongside her father. They probably didn’t have any moves she couldn’t counter. At least not the run-of-the-mill fighters. The emperor now, he was a different story. Henny knew he’d been an elite fighter, even among the jits. He was a novitiate of the fighting priesthood, and she guessed he could probably teach her a thing or two, judging from the amazing juggling act he’d just displayed with her captain.
But she’d never challenge the emperor. At least not unless it was truly necessary.
Henny worked her way around the room toward a pair of warriors who were grumbling among themselves. She moved nonchalantly, positioning herself so they would not realize she had sought them out on purpose. Instead, she made a show of coaching the pair of women nearest the two men she’d targeted.
“They dance well,” she heard one of the men say to the other, just loud enough for her to hear, “but they’re just girls. They couldn’t fight their way out of a sack.”
Henny suppressed her grin of satisfaction with effort. Turning on her heel, she walked right up to the big male, her hands on her hips as she craned her neck to look up at him. She was tall for a woman, but all of these men were taller. It wasn’t something she was used to, but she could definitely use it to her advantage when fighting them.
“What did you just say?” She challenged him loud enough that the men near him shuffled their feet and listened with unabashed curiosity. Little by little, the rest of the room grew silent as the others became aware of the confrontation in the making. Just as she planned.
The warrior pushed himself up from his negligent leaning against the wall. He tried to intimidate her with his size, but it wouldn’t work. Henny had never been intimidated by male muscle. She’d had six brothers and a bear of a father who had taught her well how to use her slightly smaller size to her advantage.
“I said,” he paused to look around at those who listened intently all around, “that your moves are pretty, but I’d hardly call it a fighting form.”
Henny stared up at him. “I think you just challenged me.”
The warrior was smarter