Page 54 of Of Song and Scepter
“One, zero,” I say.
“I said contact.” He spits into the sand.
I shrug. “I’m getting bored.”
A wicked smile curls his lips. “I can fix that,” he says, his voice dropping into a deep rumble.
He stalks toward me, his jaw set in determination, and I blink to clear the sudden image from my dream. Except it’s not my dream version of the prince wearing this expression. He’s here in the flesh, sauntering across the sand and looking at me like I’m a freshly roasted seaweed crisp.
My spines flex, lifting in warning.
“You want to make this more interesting?” he purrs.
I swallow against the lump in my throat and take a step back, meeting the edge of a boulder. I brace a hand on its surface as I rake my eyes up and down his body, enjoying the sight of this male despite myself.
His shadow covers me until I can see nothing, feel nothing, but the nearness of his towering, muscled body before the morning sun. I feign a faint and he leans in, touching his forehead to the rock above my head, framing me with his hands. He inhales deeply and hums, the deep sound reverberating through my bones.
His lips part, releasing a warm breath that spills over my forehead. The curve of his bottom lip is begging to be bitten.
“You like to get under my scales, don’t you, Wicked?” he whispers, as if he thinks he’s won.
I lift my knee, jabbing it between his legs. He grunts, bending low. I twist the trident from his hand and land a punch to his gut. He drops to the sand. Before he can recover, I squat over him, holding his weapon to his neck. He stares up at me with wide green eyes, the cocky little fuck.
“Two, zero,” I whisper, staking his fork into the sand beside his ear, and stand. “Again.”
His hand wraps around my ankle, yanking me back to the ground. I kick at his face, but he ducks, reaching for my other ankle.
I hiss, trying to aim a solid kick to his jaw.
He grunts, but he doesn’t let me go. We clash again, kicking and clawing, slashing and parrying.
Soon, our bodies enter the smooth rhythm of battle. The knot of tension in my stomach fades with every lunge and duck, the embarrassment of my dream evaporating with my sweat.
He’s a surprisingly well-matched partner. Where I’m quick and evasive, he plows forward. Where he’s strong and forceful, I’m lithe and precise. But he’s not as predictable as I thought. He throws in the occasional quick dodge or graceful twist to keep me guessing.
He may be smart, but he’s too confident for his own good. So I play dirty, trailing my fingers down his spine, tracing the sweat beading there. His skin ripples and flexes wherever I touch. He turns to watch me and fumbles his footwork, and I hook my foot around his ankle. An elbow to his back sends him tumbling forward, and he grunts, once more falling in the sand.
I lay the flat of my blade against his neck, laughter bubbling behind my lips. “Seven, zero.”
He grips my wrist, leaning into my knife. His gaze is liquid fire, and a grin spreads across his face. The pretty prince has a death wish, so I press harder with my knife.
“No,” he growls, his Voice menacing. Energy snakes out in green ribbons of light, wrapping around my wrists. He yanks me off him, sending my knife flying into the sand.
“Release me!” I sing, my own magic surging forth, meeting his magic where it holds my wrists captive. With one quick note, my lightning slices through his control and dispels the green light.
I roll through the sand, scooping up my knife and landing in a crouch.
The prince stands, swaggering toward me with that grin. His magic curls around his arms, twists around his legs, and expands around him into green mist.
“So, youareVoiced,” he says, triumphant.
This is one giant mistake. I shouldn’t be fighting him, shouldn’t be showing him all my tricks at once. I’ve been careful to maintain my handmaid identity up until this point, but that careful disguise is cracking by the second.
Never have I fought an opponent with both song and blade. He’s already seen too much. Why not have a little fun?
The prince whispers under his breath, sending his magic snaking toward me. It wraps around my stomach, and before I can react, he lifts me into the air.
Impressive.
