Page 69 of Mirror of Malice
I nodded, though disappointment filled me.
His hand stayed outstretched. “Well?” he asked.
I grasped Penn’s hand, his enveloping mine, warm and rough, as we shook.
“Get some sleep, Lilypad.” Penn let go of me and stalked toward the opening of the cave. “We have a sparring match you need to rest up for.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
We stood outside the cave, feet planted in the sand, Penn across from me, gripping a long stick with a sharpened point. I held one in my hand too. It was the best we could do without our weapons, and Penn wouldn’t use earth magic against me when I had none to fight back with. His sword had been confiscated when he was arrested.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Penn tossed his spear to his other hand.
“Yes.” I bent my knees, holding up my own spear as if it were a sword.
Penn’s blond hair glinted under the sun, and I noticed the way some of his strands shimmered gold.
Penn frowned. “You’re positive you want to do this?”
My gaze met his. “Yes. How many times do I have to tell you that I want to do this?”
“Well, you were just staring at my hair, so I could only assume that meant you weren’t ready.”
Right. Eyes on his weapon. My gaze involuntarily dipped to the bulge in his pants. Notthatweapon, which I had a feeling was equally as dangerous as the one he held.
I cleared my throat while Penn just stood there, looking bored with this entire thing, like it was an inconvenience to him.
I charged, and he easily sidestepped me, then swatted me on the butt with his stick, which sent me stumbling a few steps forward. I whirled, stick raised in front of me to find Penn right there, his weapon meeting mine. In a battle of strength, Penn would win every time. But Shadow had taught me ways to outmaneuver an opponent who was stronger.
I dropped to the ground, kicking my leg out and swiping it at Penn’s calves. He fell to the ground with an oomph, which gave me immense satisfaction... until he rolled over, jumping and whirling to face me, sharp end of his stick pointed right at my neck.
“You have to always be five steps ahead,” he said.
Well, damnit.
Then I noticed he wasn’t guarding his stomach. I lifted my stick to point right at it.
“The fight was over,” Penn said. “I won. You can’t gut me when I’ve already sliced your neck open.”
“Maybe you didn’t hit an important artery,” I said, jabbing my stick into his stomach. Just enough to make him scowl.
“So I just ran a sword across your throat, and you’re telling me that while you’re bleeding out, you have enough energy to stick your sword through my stomach? Mother fucking earth, I clearly needed to be sitting in on more of your training sessions.”
I gritted my teeth and jabbed harder, though his stupid stomach was already so hard, the movement didn’t seem to have a lot of impact.
Penn’s scowl deepened. “Do that one more time, and you’re going to regret it.”
I held his stare from my place on the ground and slowly pushed the stick into his stomach again. It happened in a flash. Penn stepped back and brought his boot down on my stick, snapping it in half. Then he spun around me, dropped to his knees and crushed my back to his chest, arms around my neck, limiting my breathing.
“Now, come on, Lilypad,” he purred into my ear. “You know I’m not one to make empty threats.”
“Oh, I know,” I rasped. “I also don’t care. I’m not . . . scared . . . of you.”
He chuckled darkly, and in that moment, it occurred to me that maybe I ought to be. Then I remembered Hammer putting me in this exact type of hold—and what he’d instructed me to do to get out of it.
I brought my elbow back and rammed it into Penn’s stomach. He groaned, but his hold on me didn’t loosen.
“Nice try,” he said into my ear.
