Page 36 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

“Why not?” I flip my sword, holding it to my shoulder so the point is facing behind me. “We both know you need to burn off steam, and my hunt is unsuccessful tonight, so let’s have some fun. No rules. You’re not the king, and I’m not an assassin. We are just two people ready to push their bodies to the limit. Unless, of course, you’re scared?”

It does the trick. No matter how smart a man is, he can’t take a blow to his ego like that. Instead of rushing me like I expected, though, he plays it smart, and my estimation of this man’s restraint and talent goes up.

He does, however, bring his sword up and slide his back foot backwards in a defensive position. “Fine. If you wish to fight, Alyx, then let us fight.”

“Thank fuck, I thought we were going to talk all day.” I take the initiative and race at him, darting left and right as his eyes track me, trying to figure out where I will attack. Just as I reach him, I move left, and he brings his sword up, but I spin to the right, slashing across his arm and stopping behind him. I see his blouse gape from the sharp edge of my weapon as I whisper in his ear, feeling him stiffen.

“Is that all you have, Your Majesty? I’m disappointed.” He spins, and I step back in time to deflect his attack.

Laughing, I deflect his blows, and using my speed and strength, I slam my sword into him and push him back. He stumbles, his chest heaving as he watches me. He spins his blade, bringing it up.

“Enough talking,” he mutters.

“Fine with me.” I grin, and this time, I wait for him to attack.

He doesn’t disappoint. He feints left and then right before hitting me head-on, and then there is no time for talking or teasing. We dance across the arena, our swords singing as they come together. He’s stronger, but I’m faster and practically feral. He’s still clinging to the way sword fighting should be won and using the rules, but I don’t. I kick dirt at him, blinding him as I parry until he stumbles back, and I finally land another hit on his side.

Rules are made to be broken, and playing by them does not keep you alive. It just means you are a righteous fool when you die.

I would rather be alive and playing dirty.

Laughing, I smack his ass with the flat of my sword, not wanting to cut that perfect, round muscle. “Stop holding back. You won’t hurt me, so give in to your anger,” I taunt as I circle him. He pants angrily, watching me, but he’s still restrained. “Let it fuel you, fill you. Think of everything they call you. Fool. Spoiled. Useless. Puppet. Take it and use it. Here, there are no rules, and no one is watching. It’s just us, so fight!”

I slash at his side again, and he snarls, slamming the pommel of his sword at me.

I dodge it with a laugh. “What are you so afraid of, Your Majesty? That you’ll like drawing blood? That you won’t be able to go back to that perfect, little box you put yourself in? Don’t be so naïve and weak. In this world, it is kill or be killed, something you know well. They are coming for you, and here you are, still holding back. Why should I bother helping a fool onto a throne?”

His eyes darken, and he bares his teeth in a feral smile. “No assassin can hand me my throne.”

“Yet that is what I am doing, is it not? What, did Daddy not give his spoiled boy everything on a platter, so now he’s angry?” I pout as I taunt him.

Mentioning his father gets the reaction I wanted, and I have to duck the sword I did not even see coming. He flung it at me like a dagger.

I jerk my head up, my eyes wide. “That was rude,” I say, but he’s sprinting at me.

I fling myself forward, rolling under his attack before getting to my feet. I see him slide across the dirt and grab his sword before he comes to a stop. His head snaps up, his eyes locked on me.

Oh, this just got good. It’s about time.

I do not even have time to think as he comes at me, his sword a blur. His movements are fast and precise, if slightly feral. Good. I let go as well. I shed the cloak I always wear, a civilized façade, and we become animals, grunting and clashing swords, dirt smearing across us as we fight. My heart hammers with joy and adrenaline, and my need for bloodlust controls me. I don’t hold back, even when I slash at the back of his knee. Luckily, he moves fast to avoid his tendon being cut, but it does slice his pants. It seems to infuriate him more, and he hammers at my sword as I hold it up to block his blows. He hits it over and over before his knee comes up and smashes into my chest, sending me flying back.

The air leaves my lungs in an audible woosh, but I ignore the slight twinge in my ribs and go low, sliding between his legs and slamming my elbow into the back of his knee. He goes down hard, and I press my sword to his neck.

I expect him to yield, to relax, but his hands come up and grip the blade, cutting his palms as he yanks. He uses my blade like a pole to pull me up and over his head. I hit the dirt hard, my back smacking into it, and for a moment, I’m disoriented. It gives him the opportunity he needs. He presses his sword to my throat, his lower body trapping mine. His head blocks out the moon, and all I see is him.

Both of us are panting and dripping with sweat and his blood, and our hearts race so loudly I can hear them.

Anger and bloodlust morph into desire for a moment as I stare into his dark eyes. He blinks, his gaze dipping to my lips as he lowers his head. I freeze, sure he’s about to kiss me.

Need blooms between us, born from anger and adrenaline, but I know kissing the king would be a mistake, so I do the only thing I can think of to stop it—I slam my head into his.

He falls back with a yell, clutching his nose as I spin to my knees and lift my sword. “Cheap trick. You didn’t really think I would fall for that, did you?”

My voice is tight, though, because I almost did.

I nearly let the king kiss me, and part of me is angry that I didn’t. Fool. I squish that down with anger as he watches me. “Had enough?” I taunt, needing to push him, needing to fight off these feelings that I don’t like. I roll across the ground, meeting his sword, and he gets the picture.

Luckily, he doesn’t call me out on what happened. Instead, he fights back.

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