Page 11 of Of Glass and of Gold

The top window flickered with the orange glow of candlelight, but no one seemed to be downstairs. The neighbors also appeared to have retired to bed, leaving an opening for me to investigate. Evergreen bushes lined the side of the house, a perfect cover while I skulked in the shadows.

Seb told me about the report. Bruce Gallagher had been taken from his backyard after sunset. Confirming it was only me amongst the stark silence of night, I quietly stalked up to the fence and peered over.

A dark form moving along the neighbor’s fence line caught my attention. I’d have to wait until they returned inside so they didn’t give me away.

My suspicions about it being the neighbor were quickly proven wrong as the shadowy figure cleared himself over the fence and dropped into Mrs. Gallagher’s yard. My adrenaline spiked. Perhaps the kidnappers returned for the Mrs. If that was the case, I had to stop them and figure out how to get them into the castle dungeon for interrogation. Judging by the perpetrator’s small frame, I didn’t see myself losing this fight. In fact, it would take a matter of minutes at most to subdue this criminal.

Since I became a man at the age of sixteen, my father saw fit for me to learn the ways of combat. Countless hours, endless days, until my body was left beaten and bruised. And still, he’d told me to train.

"A true king can defend his crown, even in battle. You never know the power your opponents will have, what advantages they will wield. Be prepared for the worst, and you will not fail this kingdom."

If not for the saving grace of my mother, the man may not have been satisfied until I’d been buried under the dirt. Even then, he’d probably have demanded I crawled out.

On a warm summer’s day, when the sun hit my face, it brought me back to the feel of my mother's loving palm caressing my cheek. Telling me she was proud of me, whether I had won the spar that day or not, whether I had magic or not. It was who I chose to be that mattered more than what I could do, she’d said.

That sentiment was another log in the fire of my current determination to put an end to this criminal ring that’d survived undetected for too long.

The figure navigated through the tall shrubbery, rustling the leaves in his wake.

A perfect opening.

I jumped, gripping the top of the five foot tall fence and scaling until I cleared it. The moment my feet connected with the grassy ground, I rose to my full height.

The small man wasted no time unsheathing a dagger when he spotted me. Moonlight glinted off the sharp blade. A pathetic weapon, really.

I withdrew my sword that’d been fixed to my back in the sheath sewn directly into the fabric, hauled it over my shoulder, and held it extended between us.

He didn’t move. Probably weighing his options, knowing my blade was the stronger opponent. We paused in a standoff.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I warned through the fabric of my mask.

“Neither should you.” A feathery voice, smooth as silk but filled with challenge.

A woman.

In my moment of chauvinistic shock, she lunged. Not wanting my blade to injure her, I moved it from her line of attack.

A solid blow to my side had me regretting my decision. Her knuckles pummeled my ribs on the right side, and in one fluid hit, she delivered an uppercut to my chin.

She sent my gaze flying toward the night sky. Before I could return my focus, the sole of her foot connected with my stomach. Her forceful kick sent me stumbling back. Instincts had me fighting to gain control. I couldn’t let her keep the upper hand, so I recovered before falling. Never let the enemy get you to the ground.

Pain radiated from my ribs and jaw, but I centered myself. With slightly bent knees, I assumed a fighter’s stance, one that’d been ingrained in me over years of practice. To let her know I wasn’t messing around, I swung the blade in a figure eight before holding it steady. The steel sang against the night air before I sank into a meditative calm.

The fact that she struck me with limbs instead of her weapon told me she didn’t intend to kill me. She could have sliced at me while in my taken aback stupor, but she hadn’t. Either she was untrained, which, judging from her form and agility, I would have a hard time believing, or she wouldn’t use lethal force unless she had to.

“Not bad,” I said, my jaw still throbbing from her punch.

“Thanks, I learned from the best,” she explained in a surprisingly cocky fashion.

Who the hell was this? A femme fatale lurking in the shadows, capable of taking on an unexpected foe. And she’d bested me. I couldn’t recall a time in the last decade that any opponent, swordsman or in the ring, had lowered my defenses before taking their shot. Suddenly my jaw wasn’t the only part of me wanting to throb, and I hastily cleared my throat to shake off the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, no more praise left in my dropped voice.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

I chuckled, a calculated move. “You’re cute. But I’m growing tired of your games.”

“Cute? Is that what it felt like when I knocked the breath out of you, cute?” Her tone was smug, knowing it didn’t fucking tickle.

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