Page 41 of Esperance

Carver almost smiled. “An exciting thought, but it wouldn’t ever happen to an experienced fighter. Not on a level battlefield, anyway. Let’s try again, but this time I’ll attack you.”

Samuel nodded, raising his sword to a defensive position.

Carver struck fairly rapidly, hoping to teach him a little more endurance, as well as show him how instincts could come into play. He was still going strong when a feminine voice called out, “Do you mind if we join you?”

Carver spun, blinking slowly as he saw the women step onto the dirt field, Jayveh in the lead.

“We hate to interrupt,” the princess continued, “but tea was about to turn violent from boredom. We could use a distraction.”

Argent lowered his bow, his grin wide. “We could use a beautiful distraction ourselves.”

Jayveh smiled as she stepped up to the prince. “Teach me?” she asked, gesturing to the bow. Argent was only too quick to pass the weapon over, explaining the best way to hold it. Marriset inserted herself between Darrin and Rivard, vying for both of their attentions. Samuel mumbled an excuse and darted to Sadia’s side so he could show her the blade he held.

Carver’s eyes were drawn to Amryn, who stood just inside the dirt circle, her hands clasped before her. Tam and Cora stood near her. Tam looked as solemn as always, and he knew now it might have something to do with her mother’s illness. The shadow of sadness in Cora’s eyes was in evidence, as usual, but she seemed more relaxed standing next to Amryn than she had since Carver had known her.

Amryn looked decidedly uncomfortable as she eyed the nearby stores of mock weapons.

Carver advanced on the small group. “Would you ladies like to learn a few basics?” he asked.

Cora shook her head.

“I’ll just watch,” Tam said, eyeing him almost warily.

He turned to Amryn. “Would you like to spar?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ve never touched a sword in my life.”

Carver tipped the blade up until it bumped her clasped hands.

Her fingers twitched and she frowned at him.

Carver shrugged, lifting the weapon and making a show of examining it. “Technically you still haven’t touched a sword. I know it might be hard to tell with an untrained eye, but this is made entirely of wood.”

Amryn’s mouth pinched, but Carver could have sworn her green eyes glittered. “You don’t say,” she deadpanned.

He liked her humor, though she didn’t show it enough. When they were in a group setting, she rarely spoke. Even though that aligned with what her cleric had written about her, Carver wanted to coax her out of her shell.

He rolled his wrist, spinning the blade. “Come on. It won’t hurt you to try.”

Amryn lifted one brow. “No, but it might hurt you.”

He chuckled, but stepped forward to help her select a practice sword with an ideal weight for her unpracticed hand, before leading her to a quiet corner of the field.

Amryn did a few practice swings, her long braid swaying behind her and her skirt rippling in the humid breeze. “I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately for this.”

“You look fine.” She looked pretty, really. The green and white gown was simple, but Carver couldn’t help but notice how it accentuated her narrow waist and flared at her hips. He cleared his throat. “How was tea?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Jayveh stopped things before they could get too interesting. I was about to pull Marriset’s hair out.”

“Do I need to defend your honor?”

“No. She’s just . . .” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She hefted the sword. “When do we start hitting each other with these?”

A smile tugged his lips. “We’ll get to that part. First we need to make sure you have balance, or you’ll buckle under any strong hit.” Carver had taught countless soldiers how to fight and hone their skills. He had even helped train his brothers and sisters. But he knew the moment he stepped up behind Amryn and set his hand at her waist that this would be nothing like those other lessons. His blood warmed and he felt her stiffen in response—but she didn’t pull away.

Carver’s voice was a little deeper when he spoke. “You need to keep your feet apart and your knees slightly bent. You can’t be rigid in a fight. Be flexible, ready to move as you need to.”

She jerked out a nod, and he caught a whiff of her soap. That clean scent of citrus and mint was becoming one of his favorites.

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