Page 21 of A Hunter for Luna

I laughed and bowed. "So generous of you.”

But as the practice bout continued, Silas pressed harder, his strikes becoming more aggressive. I narrowed my focus on the flow of the fight.

Magic slid over Silas; he was using it to improve his speed. Not to a point where I needed to respond, but it was strange he was doing it in a friendly match.

I launched a quick attack, a low feint followed by a lunge at his chest. His move to parry my feint opened his guard and he barely recovered and dodge my deliberately slow lunge. Still, it maneuvered him until the sun was in his eyes.

Unless this turned into a killing match, I wouldn’t use my magic.

"You've improved," Silas panted, wiping sweat from his brow and squinting.

I grinned, disarming him with a flourish. "The world isn't kind to the slow."

Silas retrieved his blade, a determined set to his jaw. We engaged again, blades clashing in a dance of steel. His smile faded, replaced by a grim determination.

Relaxed, I held my blade the inside line, my hand palm up, awaiting his next move. He lunged, aiming for my throat.

I parried, and stepped back into position, my expression darkening. "Careful, Silas. I don't want to kill an old friend."

Silas stepped back, breathing heavily. "Just testing you."

I studied Silas's face for any hint of his intentions. Why the sudden aggression?

"Thanks for the bout," I sheathed my rapier. "But I have other matters to attend to."

Silas nodded once, sheathing his blade as well, his expression unreadable. "Of course. Until next time, Benedetto."

We clasped forearms and walked in opposite directions. I filed the encounter away, adding it to the growing list of things that didn't sit right.

CHAPTER SIX

LUNA

Morning light streamedthrough tall windows, making the long-mirrored room a dazzle of light. I inhaled the warm air, catching the scent of fresh wax on the floor and Sofia’s delicate rose perfume.

Fan in hand, I drifted around Sofia, who held a knife at the ready. She’d volunteered to act as my sparring partner today, since Vala had sent word she would be busy this morning.

Rose, wearing a gown light and colorful enough to rival the flowers in the garden, sat by the door in a cushioned chair, focused on her embroidery. Her work basket sat next to her, trailing bright floss and ribbons. The gown I planned to change into after practice lay folded neatly at her feet,

Sofia moved forward, swinging the knife. I shifted a step, my steel fan slicing through the air in a flash to block it. Sofia was much faster than she appeared, but clumsier than me, telegraphing her attacks long before she made them.

On the other hand, as far as I knew, she had no weapons training.

It had taken me daily practice for years to hone my skills with the fan. The key was to make your movements fluid and unpredictable, like water. To beguile your opponent before you cut them to ribbons.

Sofia dropped back a few paces, her body coiled. She’d strike to the right next.

I glanced over at Rose, absorbed in her stitching. Her delicate features were a picture of serene concentration.

I must keep them both safe.

No matter the cost to me. Rose was too gentle for this world, and Sofia… Sofia was an enigma in many ways. Kind, yes, and protective, yet she held secrets like a deep still lake. And she would protect Rose if I couldn’t.

Our father had avoided us in the aftermath of the beating. I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but Vala and her husband had visited him, and then he’d been taken ill for some weeks. Hastily hushed gossip had it that there’d been a physical reprisal, but no one would talk about it around me.

Still, he was a threat to Rose, even chastised and living in the provinces.

I turned my attention back to Sofia as she made her attack. Once again, I skipped out of the way.

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