Page 8 of Court of Secrets and Flames

He cocks his head, as if considering my words. “That about sums it up. Not just any sword, though. This belonged to my grandmother.”

Swallowing the knot forming in my throat, I stretch out my hand for the weapon. Now’s not the time to get emotional.

His half grin grows into a full-on smile, revealing his straight white teeth. “Only if you say please.”

“I’m not going to beg you.”

“Hmm.” His dark brown eyes glint with mischief. “You didn’t seem to mind begging me when?—”

“Okay.”Arrogant bastard.“Please.” The word coats my mouth like ash.

He holds the weapon out of my reach. “Say it like you mean it.”

Narrowing my eyes, I stalk toward him. “I don’t have time for your games.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Duchess.” He arches his brows. “We’ve got all night.”

Though my face heats at the innuendo, I refuse to consider the other ways we could occupy the next several hours. “Just give me the damn sword.”

From the ferocity with which he rolls his eyes, I’m surprised they’re still in his head. “Since you asked sonicely…”

“Whatever.” When he lowers the sword, I grasp the hilt before snatching the weapon and rearing back.

“What? No thank you?” He presses a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“I’m about to wound you,” I hiss.

I lunge, intent on carving the smug satisfaction from his face with my new blade. My slash connects before he can block the strike.

He stares at the blood darkening his right sleeve.

Turning my wrist, I aim for his left leg. He dances out of the way, the room’s size giving him plenty of space to maneuver.

“Slash down, Lark,” he instructs between parries, as if we’re back training at Flighthaven. “Let gravity help do the work.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re no longer my instructor. I don’t have to listen to you.” Pushing his sword to the side, I kick him in the hip. “But you responded so well to my other lessons. I did a damn good job teaching you to ride.” His smirk suggests he isn’t talking about alicorns. “And you seemed to enjoy it.”

Red creeps in at the edges of my vision as I dart forward, crowding close to his body to prevent him from swinging at me. His longer sword combined with his arm length means he can generate enough force to knock me on my ass.

Unless I stay close and strike fast.

“That’s right. When your opponent has a longer reach, stay close and keep?—”

“Stop pretending you care! You lost that right when you chose deception over honesty.” I aim for arm, kidney, leg, but even with his stiff hip, he manages to block each blow.

“I didn’t choose.” The back of his boot snags on the thick carpet set between the couches. “I followed orders.”

“Orders!” I pick up a pillow from the couch and fling it at his face, then lunge and jab. He spins to the side, ignoring both fluffy projectile and blade. “Is that all it takes for you?”

“What?” Confusion tinges his question.

“An order from your big brother.” I swipe, forcing him to parry as he backs into the coffee table. “That was all it took to turn Prince Knox of Tirene into a painted lady.”

“Are you calling me a common whore?”

“No. You’re like the escorts who flock to the nobles, pretending to sell their bodies for coin. Except their main source of income is selling the secrets they learn after. You’re anuncommonwhore, Prince Knox. One who doesn’t even have the morals to walk the streets or ply your trade openly.”

His face, a mask of feigned, injured innocence, boils my blood.

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