Shit.
I was not prepared for that.
Still, I follow behind her silently to the open clearing. She places the heavy tome on the grass and turns to face me.
“Are you good with hand-to-hand combat?” I ask.
She nods.
“I used to train with my knights. But they are busy helping Lord Wesley with the murder case.” Her eyes turn sad again.
If only she knew that one of her beloved knights was responsible for half of those deaths. I don’t feel the need to break this news to her. If what Red said was true, then I want the bastard to continue whatever the fuck he’s doing in the shadows.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
I can’t resist the challenge and the mischievous glint in her eyes. Something in her calls to my dark soul, calls to my monster to come out and play.
She swerves to my right, catching me completely off guard. I must be out of my fucking mind, being this close to a curse bearer. But when it comes to Rhianelle Wiolant, I become a fucking fool. I narrowly evade the attack, but she follows up with the next one almost immediately, like a coiled snake ready to strike.
Rhianelle is on the offense, but I don’t go easy on her. Maybe I’m just a little angry at how she is so unaffected by me when I can’t even breathe right around her.
Her lithe dance is like nothing I have ever seen. It’s just as I thought. Being silent is only half of it. Rhianelle has strategized every movement carefully.
She is so fucking quiet I can’t even sense her heartbeat. The girl can even mask her scent which should have been impossible. It brings me shame because I am a tracker. The best hunter out of the five Bloodlines. And yet I couldn’t track her earlier.
It’s unsettling.
This is the same technique she used back when she was fighting the enormous orc. The girl’s skills as a fighter are commendable but she lacks something vital.
Experience.
I remember how she hesitated back then. I still can’t figure why she would think to spare the life of a beast who wanted to harm her.
This time I lunge straight toward her opening. I am a little starstruck when she lands on top of my shoulder. She maneuvers her legs and crosses them around my neck.
Her soft hand wraps around my jaw and the other on a side of my temple in an effort to twist my head.
“Yield,” she commands.
“This won’t work for a larger opponent,” I mutter at the useless attempt.
“It will if I count everything right,” she counters.
“Prove it,” I challenge.
My muscles shift as the girl uses my own strength against me. If I don’t have the healing ability of a Strigon, she would have truly snapped my neck.
I am impressed.
“Not bad,” I say, tapping her leg.
Those beautiful lips curl to a smile. Her cheeks flush into the rosy shade that I adore.
I see a glimpse of the fiery girl who saved me from the dungeon.
Hell, I’ve missed that.
I miss her.