Page 38 of To Charm a Dark Prince

“You put too much weight on your right leg. I should be able to strike at either leg, and you should stay upright.” He offered her a hand up. When she took it, he hefted her back onto her feet. “Again.”

Grumbling, she took the stance he had shown her. She fixed her shoulders and then her elbow.

When he kicked out her right foot and she didn’t fall over, he hummed in approval. He did it for the left foot, and she still stayed upright, even if it kind of hurt to have a guy with metal boots swiping out her bare feet. She’d have bruises later.

“Now, focus. Think of yourself as the roots of a tree.” He shoved her in the shoulder.

The movement sent her staggering away, nearly falling over again. “Hey!”

“Does a tree allow itself to be moved? No. It does not. Again.”

“You’re, like, twelve times my size, asshole.” But she sighed and planted her feet again.

“I am not trying, trust me.” He shoved her again, and that time she only staggered a foot or two before she managed to recover. “Better. Still bad. But better.”

“You suck.”

“I take it that is an insult?”

“Yep.”

“Insult me all you like. I think I rather enjoy it from you. You look so adorably perturbed when you say them.” He pushed her a little harder, sending her staggering again. “A tree who does not yield to the forces around it is brittle and will snap. Steel is stronger because it bends.” He shoved her again. That time, she tilted over but managed to stay where she was. “Good. Very good.”

She let herself smile at that, just a little.

“Now, lift your sword.”

With a whine, she did so. “Please don’t—”

He swung his sword into hers without warning.

It was so jarring that she nearly threw her own blade out of her hands. “Ow!” She waved her hands in the air. “Jesusfuck.”

“How profane. Utterly blasphemous.” He sounded amused. “I love it.”

She waved her hand again. It was still on fire. Which was super weird. “Can you teach me how to turn this shit off, by the way?”

“That is precisely what I am doing.” He gestured to her sword on the ground.

“No, you’re beating me up.” She picked up the blade obediently and, with a grumble, set her stance again.

“I can be doing both.” He nudged her sword higher with the tip of his own blade. “Now, when I strike your sword, you have a choice. You can either move with the blow, or you can attempt to withstand the force. Which do you think is a better choice?”

“I know which one hurts.”

“Then I suggest you try the other one.” He swung his sword into hers. She let him knock the blade away. When she didn’t move the sword back in front of her fast enough, he rested the tip of his blade underneath her chin. It yet again sent her stomach twisting into knots. “You are small. Speed will be your advantage in a fight like this. You must anticipate my strikes and be planning on how you will recover from them before they land. Not after.” He lowered his sword. “Again.”

It took her ten more tries before she finally managed to get what he was saying. He was big, and it made his movements predictable when he wound up for a swing. The next time he swept his blade for hers, she moved it out of the way before they connected, and it let her place her sword back in front of her before he completed his swing.

“There you are. That is it. Very good.” He honestly sounded pleased.

A little bit of pride welled up in her chest. It offset the pain in her hands and the bruises she knew were forming from being shoved and knocked around by a giant man in armor. But she was used to hard work on the farm, and there was something a little rewarding about this. Like overworking at the gym.

“Still don’t know what this has to do with the fire thing.”

“Then I will show you what it has to do with the ‘fire thing.’ Lower your blade.” He walked up to her as she did as he asked. “You can either resist the force that is within you, or you can move with it. Which do you choose to do?”

“I can’t…”

---