Page 61 of The Queen's Huntsman
She fought the urge to strike first in anger, knowing that, in her present position, it would send her into a spin. For the moment, he was too far out of her reach, and too nimble. With this new sword, both their swords were now of equal length and Gwendolyn no longer had the advantage of reach.
“Make use of the grip for leverage,” he reminded her, and then, without giving her time to adjust, he rushed her. Gritting her teeth, Gwendolyn withheld her swing, sensing her feet were still positioned all wrong.
Blood and bones.
It had been too long.
She knew intuitively when to strike and when not to, but Málik was faster than any opponent she’d ever sparred with, and the weight of her new sword was unfamiliar.
He said nothing, only smiled, and it was hardly reassuring—particularly after Esme’s gruesome revelation about supping on babes.
“Why did you not tell me you ate children?” she hurled at him, hoping to unnerve him, wielding her words as ruthlessly as she knew she must her sword. “If I’d known, I’d never—”
Lacking the confidence to advance properly, her energy too much spent taunting him, she stupidly stepped sideways, trying to find better footing. He grinned, seizing the advantage, stalking her. “Never what?” he asked, his question as vicious as the sharp edge of his sword.
Gwendolyn’s cheeks burned.
Never have kissed him, forsooth!
Never have loved him!
But she didn’t want to say.
“I warned you the goddess arms her creatures, accordingly, did I not?”
“Oh, indeed, you did.” Gwendolyn parried, trying to regain her aplomb as he circled her, slowly closing the distance between them. “Yet I did not figure you for a child eater.”
His smile drew back over his teeth before he answered. “I donoteat children,”he said definitively.“And neither does Esme, though I’m certain she delights in having you believe it.”
The soft titter of laughter confirmed this announcement, and Gwendolyn felt herself grow flustered. “You know me well enough,” he said, still circling her.
“So it appears I know you not at all.”
His eyes glinted. “Trust your instincts,” he said, and Gwendolyn took this time to reposition her hands as he added, “Keep your eyes onmysword. Raise the pommel, pull back as you thrust. Control your emotions, Gwendolyn.”
The glimmer in his eyes was too unnerving. Gwendolyn knew he was trying to help her, but, for a paralyzing moment, as she stared at him, all her fears came rushing to the surface, crippling her thoughts as inexorably as they did her limbs. Her heart beat faster and faster, noting the predatory gleam in his eyes—and that too wicked smile.
Remembering the first night they’d spent in these woods after his return, something about the look in his eyes thoroughly unsettled her.I cannot change my actions,he’d said.Nor do I wish to. I know what you want, I cannot give it.
Why was he here? she asked herself again. Why had he returned, if not to stand by her side? Why must she long so desperately for something that could never be?
She swung, crying out in frustration when the effort displaced her and she spun about without intending to—like a fledgling swordswoman. Málik gave no quarter. He caught her easily, turning her about and putting the sharp edge of his blade against her throat.
“You put too much hip into your cut,” he admonished, holding his cold steel to her throat, embracing her from behind so she could feel every flex of his sinew. “You aredead,” he whispered, and Gwendolyn frowned.
“I told you I was unprepared.”
His warm breath tickled the back of her ear. “And I ask you again, do you believe Loc’s men will allow you the courtesy to prepare?”
His blade remained dangerously close to the flesh of her throat—close enough that she could feel the cool kiss of steel. If she moved but a fraction of an inch, the sharp edge would draw blood.
Knowing he spoke true, Gwendolyn carefully shook her head, and meanwhile her hand reached up to draw away his hilt, giving herself room to breathe and finally pulling the blade’s edge free of her neck. Only then his lips moved closer until she could feel them brushing against her lobe. “Now tell me… what is it you’d never do again?”
Kiss him, she had been about to say.
She would never again kiss him.
Or love him.
