Page 29 of Artemysia
She loops the reins over her elk’s head, avoiding the antlers kept short at about a hand’s length. It doesn’t hurt a bull elk to trim his antlers, which are then often used for knife handles. Elk shed them every spring anyway, and the risk of goring riders or other elk is too high to leave them full-grown.
As Ivy swivels back toward me, she unsheathes one of her swordsfrom her waist and lets loose an ungodly howl before charging full speed. At me.
Oh,thisis happening?
Okay. I grasp both my short swords and quickly assess her. She’s shorter, sprinting with all her might, judging by how hard her boots slap the ground.
It’s obvious that she’s impulsive, so I don’t draw my blades yet. I feign that I am slow to react or that I might not even fight back, which will likely provoke her into escalating her aggression in an effort to engage me.
I’m right.
When she’s within striking distance, she roars again and leaps dramatically, raising her sword over me to strike. Rather than choosing a more moderate angle of attack, she’s escalated to an overhead swing. She believes she has the advantage and expects me to simply step back or dodge to the side.
I stand my ground. Her sword will come down and split me in two. But…strategically speaking, I know that the most dangerous position formeis also the most vulnerable position forher.
Danger for me, vulnerability for her. This is how I will win.
With her arms up and her sword in the air, her body is unprotected for that split-second. That’s when I strike fast and low, kicking out with the reach of my long leg, utilizing my height while drawing my blades in a cross to catch her sword to disarm her. I don’t hold back the force of my kick, and I let her have it, my heel digging in and up under her bottom ribs. Her face registers delighted shock as her weapon clatters to the ground before she doubles over with the wind knocked out of her.
She rolls off the floor with a low snarl.
“Competent, Fancy Bird. You may be my new leader,” she huffs. Her impish face breaks into a grin that reaches her violet eyes. “For today.”
My lips tense into a straight line.
Not giving up the bird names for my hair?
Normally, I’d chew out a subordinate for behavior like hers, but I can already tell she’s someone who would rather break than bend for formality, so I let it go for now. Plus, I already won her little test andspecial way of sayinghello, nice to meet you.
“Who’s the titan?” Ivy lifts a chin at Throg.
I might be able to resist being provoked by her, but Throg can’t hold his tongue and takes the bait.
“Well shit, that’s new. Titan. Giant. Ogre. Colossus. No one’s ever called mebigbefore.” A sarcastic grin reveals his brilliant square teeth. “You know, I’m big…everywhere.”
Oh, hell. Throg is flirting with her already. She’sexactlywhat turns him on. Gorgeous and mouthy with all the rough edges in all the right places.
She’s clearly used to this kind of attention and doesn’t skip a beat. “How big?”
Throg shrugs. “You’ll never know.”
“Lie to me some more.”
Throg lifts a brow, even more delighted. “I could lie to you all night. Multiple times. Until you’re sore from all the…lying.”
A throaty, genuine laugh. “We’ll see who’s sore in the morning, blonde and chiseled.”
Throg curls his lips and opens his mouth to reply—
“That’s enough, Commander Throgmorton.” I shut him down with a warning tone in my voice, my patience for such a lack of professionalism collapsing. “Ivy, you may call me Captain or Delphine. Let’s get going while the sun is high,” I order. “We all know the Syf prefer the darker hours.”
Riev looks down his razor-sharp nose at me, brows knitted tightly together on his sun-kissed face. A frown slowly spreads.
As if I’d expect anything else from him.
More importantly, I draw my attention to the fact that he didn’t try to stop Ivy from testing me.
His jaw tics when I meet his gaze.
