Page 156 of Bride of Ice
Then he made a unique move. One she should have anticipated, since she’d seen it before.
He swept his blade over her head, missing it by only a few inches. Then he flung his shield at her, releasing it toward her right shoulder. While she was distracted, dodging the flying shield, he finished his spin, bringing his blade low to sweep her off her feet.
He almost succeeded. At the last instant, recognizing the maneuver, she leaped over the blade.
Ithadto be Colban. That was the ploy he’d shown Brand and Gellir.
On the other hand, she supposed anyone could learn a trick like that.
She had to finish the fight and find out for certain the identity of The Sable Knight.
He had surrendered his shield, wagering his tactic would end the match. Hallie could have easily won by taking advantage of his vulnerability.
But her mother had taught her a valuable lesson. Chivalry was more important than victory. So she retreated, picked up his shield, and tossed it back to him.
The crowd cheered. The knight inclined his head in thanks, and she swore she could imagine Colban’s crooked smile beaming out at her from inside that helm.
As a warrior, Hallie was renown for remaining cool, even in the heat of battle. And although The Sable Knight was challenging her composure, she knew she had to rely on that gift if she wanted to win this skirmish.
Rather than wielding blows that would finish him off, she began pestering him with small, quick attacks. Her sword became a swarm of bees, stinging in the gaps of his chain mail and thumping against his helm.
Forced to defend against each minor offense, he became annoyed. Once he was annoyed, his return attacks became careless. Fueled by his temper and sheer frustration, he grew negligent.
Finally, as every foe did when confronted by a horde of bothersome pests, he lashed out with a wild and reckless slash, as if he could wipe them out in a single blow.
Almost without fail, when a warrior’s sword slashed right and his shield went wide to the left, he left himself open to attack. Hallie took advantage of that moment to lunge forward, bowling him over with her sword, her shield, and all of her strength.
He fell backwards into the dirt, taking her with him. She ended up astride his body with her blade at his throat.
She’d won the tournament. But there would be time to celebrate later. Right now, she wanted to know just one thing.
While the crowd cheered, she leaned forward and whispered, “Tell me your name.” Her heart pounded as she waited for his reply.
Rather than answer her, the lout slipped his shield under her blade, pushing it away from his throat, threw her off of him, and fell heavily on top of her withhissword atherthroat.
Her gasp was echoed by the crowd. How had he done that? How had turned the tables on her so quickly and stolen her victory?
She struggled beneath him. But it was to no avail. She still had her sword in her grip, but the wrist of her sword arm was anchored to the ground in his steel gauntlet. She was well and truly conquered.
“Fine,” she bit out in disappointment. “I yield.”
The knave cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I yield,” she snarled.
He let her up, but she coldly refused his hand when he offered it. She was vexed. The lout had usurped her triumph and snatched glory from Rivenloch. Worse, he’d refused to give her his name.
Colban supposed a gentleman might have let the lady win. But she didn’t need the purse that came with the championship. He did. And her hastily whispered question had caught him off-guard. Fearing exposure of his identity, he did what came naturally in a sword fight, overthrowing his opponent by any means possible.
If it were left to him, he would have remained atop the magnificent Valkyrie, tossed aside their swords and helms, and continued his assault, drinking in her beauty, touching her face, kissing her lips.
But he had been lucky enough already, earning the privilege of fighting with her. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of Hallie from afar. But even in his wildest dreams, he hadn’t imagined the two of them would engage in close combat.
She was just as amazing as they said. Competent. Calm. Deadly. The match could have easily gone her way. He wanted to tell her so. But speaking would have revealed his identity. Besides, she might have perceived his praise as condescending.
He lingered just long enough to receive the applause of the crowd and the satchel of silver for his efforts from Laird Morgan and Jenefer.
Then he repaired to his pavilion to prepare for the final event, the melee.
