Page 176 of Golden Queen
"Try it on," he said, handing me the golden chain mail. It slid over my hands like flowing water.
I started to shake my head, but he pressed me. "You have to see if it fits. It would be a shame to find out on the eve of battle that it doesn't."
I laughed. "There is plenty of time between now and me riding into any battle to try on the armor."
I had to admit the fact that he saw me someday riding into battle made me intensely happy. It wasn't that I was spoiling for a fight. But I had always wanted to be strong enough to defend my people from any enemy, just as my warrior mother had done.
She had bucked custom and ridden out with my father, ancient sword of Lithaway at her hip. And although they reigned in mostly peaceful times, she fought in the occasional skirmish with outlaws or pirates.
The fact that Io saw the same capacity for that in me and did not seek to stifle it or deter me, meant the world to me.
So I let him help me slide the armor over my clothes. Each piece fit so perfectly that I would have believed the king had somehow consulted Edriana, the seamstress, for my measurements.
When I stood in the middle of the chamber in my full battle gear, holding Sangui at my side, I felt just a little bit ridiculous.
Io let out a low whistle of approval. "Dear fates, Aelia of Windemere, you look like a warrior goddess descended from the heavens to wage war on all the forces of evil."
I laughed at his borderline sultry expression. "This turns you on, you beast!"
"You're gods damned right it does. Now show me what you can really do." He picked up his sword and held it up, at the ready.
"I don't want to fight you. One of us will end up without a head."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I won't let you cut off my head, Sera darling," he drawled.
"I was talking about me," I said, rolling my eyes back at him.
"I'm not going to strike you. Just parry with me, and I'll defend."
When I made no move, he added, "Unless you're all show in that shiny armor, Star-born Guardian of the Elderwood." He said it mockingly, but I could hardly say I was offended since he was being so ridiculous. He was looking at me like he would sooner fuck me than fight me. Or rather, he was looking decidedly like he might want to fight me and fuck me, I thought with a dark, delicious thrill down my spine.
So I struck.
Moving in the armor was as easy as if I had not been wearing it. It was formed so seamlessly on me that it allowed my body to move around and within it. I was entirely unimpeded as I stepped in and swung my blade up at Io's smirking face.
Sangui hummed as she moved, slicing through the air with no resistance as a wave of strength shot up my arm, pushing my swing further, faster.
Io's sword caught mine, sliding the blow off to the side harmlessly. I didn't miss the look of surprise on his face, though. It was closer than he expected.
I swung again, and he narrowed his eyes as he ducked out of the way, Sangui gliding over his head so close that I saw his hair flutter as she passed.
I struck again and met his blade at the side of his head, metal ringing in a clash of steel that echoed off the cave walls. I met his eyes, noting the look of approval on his face.
I was momentarily distracted by his impossibly beautiful face, lips split in a wide grin showing white teeth and that dimple at the side of his mouth. The long line of his arms, muscles bunching and flexing under his rolled-up sleeves, his chest straining against the thin fabric as he swung his blade up to meet mine.
I imagined that arm moving me, grasping my waist, sliding me to meet his hips across the bed.
The distraction cost me some ground as he stepped into me, and I had to back away to continue striking.
I swung and he parried it. I swung again, and he leaned back, letting the blade sail in front of his face. He raised a brow as though to say, is that all you have?
He never offered a single correction, even as I thought I saw him wince a few times when my form was particularly bad, or my feet were placed so that I was more off-balance than I should have been.
That smile, wicked and delightful, was the only accompaniment to my blows.
I struck again and again and again, never tiring, never flagging.
When perhaps a bit too much hubris had managed to worm its way into my head, I stopped. "Strike me," I said. "I want to see how well I can defend."
