When I open the doors, I hear Vargas sneer, “I thought you were the King of Dragons.” He laughs uproariously before continuing, “Do you need me to slow down and let you catch up?”
My eyes widen when I hear Vargas’ scorn. Slipping farther into the room, I move over to the wall and slide down quietly to sit beside Daire, who’s watching the show.
“How long have they been sparring?” I whisper, staring at the two massive men circling each other about thirty feet away. Every few minutes, they blur into motion, which is quickly followed by the sounds of weapons striking and a loud curse or grunt as they miss or find their mark.
Daire leans over, placing his lips near my ear, and murmurs, “A couple of hours, at least. I haven’t been this entertained in a long time. He’s trying to make a good impression on Vargas.” His low chuckle sends shivers down my spine.
I turn to glance at Daire, and his icy blue eyes are filled with laughter. This is not good. I give a long sigh. “Be ready to pull me out when this gets ugly,” I instruct him.
Without waiting for his reply, I stand, throw my shoulders back, and stroll over to the two men facing each other. “Good morning, Vargas. Valerian. I know you two have been sparring for a while, but mind if I steal Vargas away? I’d like to have the chance to spar with him before he leaves.” Giving them my best smile, I watch as they swallow their irritation at my intrusion.
Valerian picks up a towel and gives me a short nod. “Of course, Arden. I’ll go watch with Daire.” He strides off without looking at Vargas, anger and frustration beating at him.
“Tsk, tsk, my darling Arden,” Vargas admonishes me. “The dragon’s been trying to win my respect all morning. But I have to tell you, I’m now doubting my previous high regard of him.”
“Don’t tsk me, Vargas,” I reply sternly. “Valerian’s holding back, and you know it.”
Vargas frowns. “I know, damn it. I’ve been trying to goad him into a real fight all morning. Why won’t he fight me?”
“I’m guessing he’s a bit old-fashioned. You know, be nice and respectful to your mate’s father,” I answer. Drawing a pair of short swords, I bow to Vargas and take my fighting stance. “That’s not the way to win your respect, though, is it?” With those words, I attack.
Vargas raises his swords up in time to meet mine, and it’s a no-holds-barred match. Blood soon dots the floor around us, our swords nicking each other regularly. I don’t worry about it too much. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. A large grin splits my face, and Vargas gives me an evil grin back. Sparring with him is exhilarating.
His foot sweeps out to trip me, and I jump to avoid it, only to realize his sword is swinging toward my head. Arching, I let my head fall back, and the sword whistles an inch above me, slicing the air in half. I hear a bellow and several shouts from the wall. I’m guessing Daire and Valerian have been joined by one or two of the others, and they’re not happy about Vargas’ tactics, but I don’t dare look.
Spying a rope off to the side, I quickly shift my attention back to Vargas, not wanting to clue him into my thoughts. Releasing a tendril of magic, I guide it toward the rope, instructing it to gather and coil into a circle. Simultaneously, I step back, away from the rope, allowing Vargas a chance to step forward, but before he gains his fighting stance, I cut in close and throw an elbow in his face, then bounce out again.
“Ha! I taught you that trick! I’d have thought you’d have new ones for me,” Vargas grumbles while rubbing his face. Shadows roll off him onto the floor and head toward me.
“Looks like the old ones still work,” I taunt. “Where are your new moves, old man?”
My feet dance between the shadows, careful to avoid their grasp, while my gaze sweeps the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I realize my trap is set. With a roar, I use a full-frontal attack to drive Vargas backwards. He grins, knowing I’m up to something now, but he’s not sure what. I let off the attack and step sideways. He follows before driving me back a few steps. Then I charge again, this time bringing him within a foot of the rope.
Using my magic, I wrap the rope around his ankle, throw it over the beam above him, and hoist him in the air. In surprise, his sword swings out wildly, and the tip catches my thigh, slicing it open. Swinging back and forth above me, he laughs, knowing I’ll have to take time to heal it, inadvertently giving him time to cut the rope and jump down. I step back until I’m not directly below him.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurts, I cry silently.
Several loud shouts carry over to me from the side, and I hear running feet. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I paste on a smile and turn to Valerian right as he reaches me. Conjuring his favorite weapon, the claymore, I use magic to toss the massively heavy sword to him.
“Damn it, Vargas!” Valerian shouts, his hand instinctively coming up to catch the claymore. “What the hell were you thinking?” He reaches a hand toward my leg. “Let me see the wound, lass.”
“No time,” I shout, quickly hobbling past Valerian. “Vargas will be dropping in front of you in less than a second. Get ready!” I limp toward the wall to get a good seat for the show.
Daire steps in front of me. “Daire, what are you doing? I need to sit down so I can heal my leg and watch this match. It’s going to be epic.” A clang sounds behind Daire, and I step to the side and turn to watch Vargas and Valerian battle it out.
Hands grab me from behind and hold me still, but I don’t take my eyes off the two men in front of me. No longer dancing and sparring lightly with each other, Valerian’s finally giving Vargas the match he deserves. This time, their match is silent, each of them laser focused on the other.
Heat caresses my leg, and I glance down to see Daire healing it.
“Thank you, Daire,” I murmur, giving him a smile. Ever since he healed me the first time, after the assassination attempt at Santiago’s, our relationship has been evolving. I haven’t even seen a sneer or heard a snarl in a long while. “I’d planned to heal myself once I reached the wall.”
“Next time, try not to get your damn leg almost cut off,” he replies gruffly.
I laugh off his worry. “Over the years, I’ve received a lot worse in my skirmishes with Vargas, and he’s received his fair share in return. And before you, I didn’t have the luxury of healing myself without using potions, which seemingly took forever.” I motion to my leg. “Hurry, you don’t want to miss this.” My eyes flick back to the two fighters.
Someone behind me snorts, and I glance over my shoulder to find Fallon. His hands are wrapped tightly around my shoulders, which is why tingles are running up and down my spine. “You threw a match on a field of gasoline. Believe me, Valerian’s anger is going to take a while to burn out,” he says curtly, his eyes glued to the two men fighting. A nerve jumps in his cheek.
My eyebrows rise, and I glance down to share my amusement with Daire, only to see the same simmering anger in his eyes. Shaking my head at them both, I wait until Daire’s finished healing my leg before moving over to the wall. I may as well get comfortable.
