Darn it, she couldn’t back down now. She would look like a ninny with a wagon load of personal secrets, which of course she unfortunately was. Hah, the solution was easy, she would just need to win this challenge.
Their first few parries were nothing more than a warm up, to carefully get a feel for their opponent’s mettle. Soon they settled into a rhythm of thrusts and parries, parries and thrusts… faster and faster.
Talac moved like quicksilver, surprisingly graceful for a muscular man of his size and clearly expertly trained. They circled around the arena, kicking up sawdust. First it was Alia trying to press for an advantage. And then it was her turn to back up as Talac moved into offensive mode.
Yet still neither one had scored a single touch.
Alia didn’t allow herself to become frustrated, although she was aware of the passing time, how her breathing was becoming a little laboured, how sweat was forming on her brow and between her breasts. Her arm felt fine, for the moment, but this was going to be a long bout, unless one of them did something unexpected.
The longer they fought the more obvious it became that Talac was capable of hitting harder, whilst Alia moved with just a fraction more speed. Somehow this equation balanced them so neither one could get the upper hand or find an opening.
They broke apart after a particularly long thrust and parry bout, both breathing fast, circling one another.
“How long do you think you can keep this pace up?”
Flexing her arm and shoulder to test it, Alia shrugged. “I’m good.”
“As am I. But do we really want to continue exerting ourselves fruitlessly?”
“You’re conceding? I accept.”
“Not at all. I’ll happily continue the bout. I just question whether this is the best use of our time and energy, given how evenly matched we appear to be, we could be at this for hours.”
Frowning, Alia continued to circle Talac, watching, ready. “I do have a myriad of other things I could be doing. What are you proposing?”
“A détente. No winner. No loser.”
That was a thoroughly civilised suggestion coming from a man who made his living by the sword. Talac was proving to have surprising depths and good sense. His solution revealing steely self-control, and a refusal to be ruled by his ego. Many a man, when fighting a woman, would never call her an equal, no matter how much evidence was presented. They would too often fight themselves to exhaustion and possible death, stubbornly clinging to their misguided masculine beliefs until the bitter end. Talac was proving the exception.
It made Alia even more wary of him, yet she was not so foolish as to refuse his suggestion. “I agree with your terms. How do we go about-” Watching as Talac casually lay his rapier down in the sawdust at his feet. It didn’t feel like a trap. And that twinkle that sparkled in his grey eyes, it invited Alia to have faith in his word. It would be churlish not to match his actions. Bending over to lay her own rapier down in the sawdust at her feet.
There was a strange fierce smile on Talac’s face as he stepped over his rapier to close in on her position, extending his hand. “Well met, competitor.” His rough hand warm and strong as it enclosed hers briefly as they shook hands.
“Well met, competitor.” Alia echoed, forced to exert a little effort to free her hand from his. Not sure who was reluctant to let go of whom. Which was a silly thought. “Shall I escort you to the infirmary?”
“With the tour only half completed?”
“What else is there left to see besides the hayloft, the vegetable garden and the cool house where the canning is done?”
“I knew you were holding out on me. But first, let’s grab a drink and some lunch.” It wasn’t a suggestion, as he was already hooking his arm through hers, drawing Alia outside into the sunshine.
Alia could have dug her heels in. But she was very aware everyone in the Lair was watching her interactions with Talac with strange avid interest. There was no reason to give the gossips any more fuel, so she obliged. Besides, a few more hours spent in Talac’s company would cost her nothing and clear this debt that he seemed to believe existed between them for some reason.
They were only half way across the courtyard when Talac broke the silence. “I’ve been considering our challenge wager. It’s still in effect you realise.”
If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have tripped over her own large feet. “No winner, no loser. We agreed.”
“Or, if you were to look at it from another angle, two winners or two losers.”
“I would heartily disagree. The bout, and therefore the challenge, was voided.” They passed through the narrowed arched doors, entering the main hall. There was a handful of people present at the long tables, indulging in a late lunch. Hopefully there would be nothing left to eat and Alia could part ways with Talac on the pretext of seeking them out some food.
Darnation, she should have known the kitchen staff would be two steps ahead of her, as Cassiopi, their head cook - who’d found Talac and all his questions surprisingly tolerable during their tour of the kitchens - personally brought out two laden plates. One of her assistants following on her heels with goblets and a full jug of mead.
When they were finally settled at a table of Cassiopi’s choosing, one annoyingly devoid of any other Lair inhabitants, Alia found herself alone with Talac as he resumed their interrupted conversation. “I propose a conclusion to our challenge.”
“You’re like a sunlion with a bone. We laid our swords down.” Alia dug into the spinach and cheese pie, still warm, direct from the oven. “The challenge is over.”
“But our agreement on the prize remains.”
