“Good morning,” she replied quickly and picked up last night’s tray, hurrying to the door. “Oh, the king wanted me to tell you to meet him in the courtyard. He has a sparring circle prepared.”
“A sparring circle? For what?” I asked, baffled.
“I do not know,” she said, looking at me for the first time. Her eyes were the color of amethyst, matching her hair.
“Well, thank you,” I said, offering a light smile. She returned it, nodding goodbye before descending out of sight.
Catching a whiff of bread and honey, my stomach growled and I devoured the food on the tray, along with the cup of tea.
As I finished, I glanced down at my clothes and grimaced. I had been wearing the same clothes for days. Hopping up, I strolled to the small dresser, not expecting much, and pulled the knob on the top drawer.
My mouth fell open. Inside was an exact copy of what I was already wearing and nothing else. Yanking the other drawers open, they were all empty. I lifted the garments, and they seemed to be my size.
Tossing them on the bed, I jogged back to the dresser, thought of my cloak, and pulled the top one back open.
Inside was my cloak, the same one I’d worn for years.
Another enchantment.
With excitement, I closed it again, picturing my lost dagger, and opened it. Nothing. It was empty. Disappointment flooded me and I pushed it closed, turning away.
I quickly changed into the clean clothes, grabbed the dagger, and slid it into my boot as anxiety bubbled in my chest.
Once outside, I spotted Rogue standing near an elaborate weaponry rack, containing every weapon I could possibly imagine. He was clad in all black as usual, his tunic sleeveless with a deep V in the center. His hair was tied half up, away from his face. A few tendrils fell forward as he leaned over the rack, grabbed a sword, and swung it in a tight circle.
When he noticed me, he gave me a wicked grin and motioned me over. I swallowed hard as I descended the entryway steps and crossed the courtyard.
“I figured with how well you handled a sword, you may want to spar, even just to land a few blows on me. And well, I have nothing planned for today, so I’d like to see just how good you really are,” he taunted, spinning the sword in his hand. Giving me another smirk, he quickly closed the ground between us and swung.
“Hey!” I ducked, lurching towards the weapon rack, and picked up the first sword I touched. Turning, I thrust it up just in time to meet his sword with a loud clang.
Adrenaline rushed through me.
“Don’t worry,” he said in a low voice, his face too close for comfort. “The swords are spelled. They won’t do any more damage than a wooden training sword.”
His face was smug and it ground my nerves.
He took a small step back and I lunged forward, swinging low. He blocked. I spun and swung again at his opposite side. My sword connected with his ribs. He huffed, chuckling with amusement, and I gritted my teeth.
He’s taking it easy on me.
I swung the blade again. Blow after blow, he blocked. Frustrated, my swings got faster, harder. We continued this way for some time before he swung back at me, catching me in the thigh, and my knee buckled. A hiss escaped my clenched teeth as I hit the ground on one knee.
He knocked the sword from my hand and I swiftly pulled the dagger from my boot, hurling it at him. It spun end over end before he stepped to the side and caught the blade between his thumb and his forefinger, just inches from his face.
He laughed and kicked out his foot, sweeping my other leg out from under me. I fell to the ground, scowling, growing more irritated by the minute.
“Good, yes. Great? I’m not so sure.” He leered, extending a hand.
I took it, yanking him down. He yelped in surprise and fell directly on top of me, landing with his hands firmly planted on either side of my face. His eyes were wide with shock and a strange intensity.
Bringing my hand up, I felt the scar on his neck and he closed his eyes, tensing beneath my touch. I slid my fingers over his shoulder, down his back, and along the base of one wing. His breath hitched and my eyes snapped back to his. They were wide with lust and failing restraint, darting from my eyes to my lips, right before his mouth crashed to mine in a bruising kiss.
One hand firmly gripped my chin, angling my mouth to his, and he devoured me as if he had longed for this, wanted this. His tongue probed my lips, seeking entrance, and a hunger for him burned through me, almost blurring my thoughts. Almost.
My hand slid further down his back, along his waist, teasingly along his belt line when I felt it.
Ripping the dagger from its sheath, I stabbed it into his side and rolled him off me, jerking to my feet. He grunted, one hand flying to his side as he looked at me with bewilderment that quickly shifted to understanding. Releasing a low laugh, he slowly pulled the knife from his side and tossed it.