by S. D. Grimm
“You call Chloe sister.”
“Of course.”
“Same reason?”
“Well, no. I mean, she was born my sister, but yes. She’d protect every one of us with the same ferocity.”
“And do you deserve to have them call you brother?”
Ryan shifted his weight to his other leg. “Are you asking if I’d be willing to give my life for either of them?”
“No. I was asking if you would protect them, but it’s interesting to know how deep you feel that protection goes.”
“Of course I would.”
One Eye nodded, his gaze drifting to the ground. Then, like lightning, he drew his sword.
Ryan stumbled back. Stupid for not being ready. He met One Eye’s sword with his own blade, barely.
One Eye pushed. Ryan pushed back. Whirled out of the way.
There was always so much to remember, and Ryan felt his movements were sloppy, but he managed to stop One Eye’s sword from slicing into his arm. He watched the man’s every move. One Eye’s feet showed weight shifts, his arms and his torso told Ryan where the sword would be aimed. Problem was, he had to read the intentions fast enough. And react faster.
His foot landed on a hard root, and Ryan lost balance just as One Eye’s weapon slapped into his. Ryan’s ankle rolled. His shoulder hit the tree. An old nub from a broken branch pressed into his arm. A sting slashed his finger and his sword fell to the ground.
One Eye disarmed him.
Again.
“Snare me.” Ryan kicked at the offending root.
“Again.” One Eye pulled back his sword and stood ready.
Ryan’s bleeding left hand clutched his sword hilt again. He’d lost track of the number of healing cuts on his fingers. When he got his own sword, he’d opt for a bigger cross guard.
The weapon flew out of his hand three more times before he finally ended with his blade against One Eye’s chest.
The man smiled and patted Ryan on the back. “Well done, as usual. You’re fast to learn and quick to imitate. You learn like a dragon.”
He learned like a dragon? Now that was a compliment and a half.
One Eye nodded once. “You’re a conundrum because I’ve seen you at the tavern. It’s not the same boy who stays here. When you fight at the tavern, you win sometimes. When you fight me, even the trees slip you up.” One Eye winked. It was the most unnerving thing the man did.
Ryan cracked a smile. “I suppose I’m just having fun there.”
“I suppose so, too. But you’re always in control, aren’t you?”
Control? What did having fun have to do with being in control?
One Eye chuckled. “You use your charm and winning smile to hide the fact that you’re guarded and untrusting. You make everyone else relax and trust you. Then, when their guard is down, you decide who’s worth trusting. It’s a good strength to have. But your weakness is always wanting to be in control. You can’t control others. But you can control your response. That is what the dancing is for. Lead them to the direction you want them to go, but if that fails, be ready anyway.” One Eye pulled out his sword. “Again.”
By the time One Eye left, Ryan was breathing hard, sweating through his shirt, and his hand was bleeding with fresh cuts. But not from the last two rounds. He’d finally bested One Eye twice in a row. He sheathed his sword.
The man’s obsession with dancing as the key to learning to fight was frustrating. Sure, Ryan enjoyed dancing. It was as good as any other way to spend an evening. Besides, the girls flocked to him like winter pigeons on a baker’s roof. That didn’t hurt his self-esteem. But if dancing was the key to unlocking his inner sword fighter, Ryan needed a way to pick that lock.
Evening finally came, and Ryan grabbed his sword and nicest shirt. Chloe met him at the house.
Estelle patted his cheek. “You two have fun and learn a lot tonight.” Then she caught sight of his sliced-up fingers and stopped him from leaving. “This won’t do.”
So they’d cracked open again.
“My husband worked you hard this morning, did he?”
Ryan cringed as Chloe hid a smile.
Estelle placed some ointment on the cuts. Heavens, that stung. She brought out a bandage.
Ryan put up his hand to stop her. “I don’t need—”
“There’ll be no blood on those girls’ dresses. Y’hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her his hand back.
“Such a mumbler.”
Ryan let her tie the bandage, then waved as she went inside. He turned to Chloe, who stood there, smug smile still on her face.
“Bleeding again?”
“It’s not like you had time for practice this morning, queen of penance.”
“Honestly.” Chloe linked arms with him and towed him away from the house toward the Winking Fox. “I don’t know how Estelle hears half of my back-talk.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I think the only thing wrong with that woman’s hearing is that she doesn’t miss a thing.”
They finally arrived at the Winking Fox and entered though the back door into the kitchens. The owner, a wide woman with friendly eyes and a red face from cooking, let them in.
“Good evening, Martha.” Ryan always greeted her with a smile.
Martha wrapped him in a smothering hug. He chuckled when she let him go and smoothed the new wrinkles from his shirt. Chloe was already gone, so Ryan headed straight to find Tessa, Martha’s daughter. But first he threw away the bandages Estelle had insisted he wear.
He caught up to Tessa and helped her clear away some dishes and crumbs that guests had left for her to clean up.
“Good evening, Ryan.” She greeted him with a smile like her mother’s, but no smothering hug. Not that he would have minded one from her. “You don’t have to help me, you know.”
“You’ll be saying that to me all night, but you’ll still appreciate the help.”
The door opened and Tessa looked to see who came in. “Here come your first callers.”
Ryan’s gaze stopped at a pretty girl with long brown hair. She wasn’t whom Tessa had been speaking of, but she was the one to catch his eye. Her gaze met his for a shy glance as she descended the stairs.
A redhead with bouncy curls and enough cleavage to swallow a man’s head stepped into his line of sight. Francesca. “I hoped you’d be here tonight, handsome.”
Ryan wasn’t supposed to turn down a dance, but this was one woman he might like to say no to, at least once. She was a bit too persuasive for his taste.
“Hi, Francesca. I was thinking we could dance to ‘Fiddle for a Bride.’ That one is fast and bouncy.” She always giggled when he winked, so he indulged her.
“I’ll be ready.” She wagged over to the musicians, no doubt to request the favorite.
“You really shouldn’t encourage her.” Chloe laughed.
“Maybe I like her.”
“Let’s not tell lies. There’s a cute little brunette standing over there. She’s been eyeing you.”
“I’m getting there.”
Too bad she wasn’t Serena. He’d hoped, after telling her that he was at the Winking Fox every night, she might visit. Every night he watched the door, but she hadn’t come back yet. She probably wouldn’t.
Tessa moved into his line of sight, balancing a full tray. “Well, I’m still working, so if the two of you will excuse me.”
Ryan faced the door and leaned on the bar. A couple girls looked his way and he shot them a half smile. They sure were giddy.
Chloe smacked his shoulder. “You’re such an—”
“What? They came here to be swept off their feet. I’m just living up to the expectation.”
Chloe snorted. “We’ll see.” She grabbed her mug and slipped off her stool. She handed a drink to her brother. “Which one are you going to sweep up first?”
His gaze found a pretty green-eyed girl. The only one in the tavern who wasn’t overtly trying to get his attentio
n. A little bit of a challenge was always more fun. Besides, she seemed more his type. Pretty, but not trying to be noticed. A little shy, but by the way she stood straight and tall, hands on her hips, she was confident.
“Her.”
Chloe patted his shoulder. “Good luck, brother.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”
“Come to think of it, she looks familiar.”
“Don’t stare, Chloe. You’ll ruin my chances.”
She cocked her eyebrow at Ryan and leaned on the bar. Then she whispered, “She looks like that young woman from the Dissenters camp. The one who could see the future.”
Ryan shot Chloe a glance, hoping she’d take his hint and be quiet. Talking about things like the Dissenters or Blood Moon talents here was beyond dangerous. As quickly as he’d shot the warning look, he sprouted a smile. “She looks like she needs a dance partner.” He set down his drink and headed over to the where the green-eyed girl stood by the dance floor.
She glanced at him and quickly looked away. A little pink flushed her cheeks. Good sign. He closed the gap between them. “No dance partner?”
“No.” Her smile captivated him.
“Well, I’d be happy to step in.”
She tilted her head and bit her lip.
He extended a hand. “I’m Ryan.”
“Madison.” She let him take her hand and kiss it. Her palm was calloused. Like someone who fought with daggers and fought with them often. Definitely still his type.
“Well, Madison, what do you say?” He hung on to her hand a little longer.
She glanced at their joined hands and pulled hers back. Her gaze darted to the floor, smile remaining. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“Really? Well, it just so happens that I’m an excellent teacher.” He bowed.
She giggled. He took that as an invitation and grabbed both of her hands this time. As he led her onto the dance floor, she worried her bottom lip again.
“There’s nothing to be scared of, Madison.”
Her eyes widened. “Who said I was scared?”
He held back a laugh. “Put one hand here.” He pressed her right palm against his shoulder. “And the other here.” He held out his right hand.
Her lip slid from her teeth and she placed her left hand in his. Now those eyes looked up at him, round.
He placed his other hand on her waist. “Now breathe and let me lead.”
She took a deep breath, and her smile returned as she exhaled.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the sparkle in hers. “That’s right. Ready?”
The music started, and her grip on his hand tightened. The music picked up speed, and she clutched his shoulder as tightly as if she rode behind him on a startled horse in the woods. She smelled wonderful.
He whispered into her ear. “Relax. I’ve got this.”
Her hold loosened as the song continued. Her smile returned and she looked into his eyes again.
He smiled. “That’s right. You’ve got it.”
That made her miss a step and her cheeks turned bright red, but he just led her on, didn’t even mention the misstep, and she relaxed again. But this time she held him closer—just not as tight.
The music slowed. He pulled her to a stop.
“You’re good at this,” she said.
“So are you.”
The blush returned. “I think not.”
“A lot of women resist a man’s lead on the dance floor. It causes more missteps than you’d think.”
“Oh. Well, I think you’re a fine leader.”
“Leader?” He chuckled. Interesting choice of words. He never led a thing. Except in dancing.
The tune of the fiddle struck up faster, and Ryan recognized the next song. “Fiddle for a Bride.”
“Are we going again?” Madison looked up from beneath her eyelashes.
“I’d love to, but I promised—”
“There you are.” Francesca sauntered over, her red curls bouncing. “You going to let someone else have a turn, Knight?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Knight?” Madison tilted her head and searched Ryan’s face with narrowed eyes.
“It’s just a nickname.” A stupid one at that.
“Really? Do you fight for sport?”
Not yet. Not really, anyway. But how could he say that to her without losing all credibility?
“Of course he does.” Francesca grabbed Ryan’s arm and towed him toward the dance floor.
Madison’s look became a bit more guarded.
“Please save me another dance?” he asked her.
She crossed her arms. “We’ll see, Knight.”
That was that, apparently. Leave it to Francesca to ruin a perfectly good time. When the song ended and the music changed, Ryan finally caught sight of Madison sitting at a table, paying no attention to him and too much attention to the dark-haired, bearded man sitting across from her. Someone grabbed Ryan’s arm and spun him around.
“Dance with me, Knight.”
He sighed again. The next seven songs had him switching from one bright-eyed young woman to the next, all of them swooning, stepping on his toes, and resisting his lead. Ah well, some of them never learned. Although, he was starting to get good at moving his feet so they didn’t step on him.
“Knight?”
“I’m going to sit this one out, Francesca. But have fun. It looks like Blade is open.” He nodded toward the sport fighter tilting his head back with a tankard of mead, then he slipped away.
Madison stood alone in her green dress, gazing over her shoulder toward the door.
Breathless, he reached her. “Care for another dance?”
She smiled brightly and stared at his outstretched hand. “Should I call you Knight?”
“Please don’t.”
Madison tipped her head and studied his face. If she didn’t take his hand, he’d have to give it to another, and he really, really didn’t want to.
Her eyes rounded into that innocent look again and she grasped his hand at last. “Why not?”
“It’s a silly name. I don’t know how it even got started.”
“I do.”
She did? It wasn’t really his best moment. “How do you—I mean, I don’t recall seeing you here before.”
Her warm smile brought out the dimple in her cheek. “You’ve been nothing but chivalrous to me tonight.”
“Very funny.”
“I mean it. You’re sweet, Ryan.”
Sweet? What exactly did that mean? Wasn’t that what pretty girls called the boys they thought too young or too old for them? Or worse, the boys they thought only good for friendship and nothing more?
He lifted an eyebrow. “Uh . . . thanks?”
That dimple made its way back on her cheek. “You’re welcome. Now, how about that dance?”
He led her onto the dance floor. “Just one?”
She placed her hand on his back and pulled him closer. “How many are you offering?”
“As many as you’ll have.”
She smiled, and he nearly forgot to start dancing. Three songs later, she had completely relaxed and let him lead her around the dance floor. Effortless. If he hadn’t met her in a tavern, he’d have thought she’d grown up in the palace, such was her grace and confidence. When the music ended, he brought her in and dipped her.
She looked up at him, chest heaving, smiling that enchanting smile.
“Would you like to step outside?” He set her back on her feet.
She nodded, but her eyes flicked around the room.
Ryan followed her gaze. The bearded man stood in the corner, watching. He moved toward the door as they did.
As soon as Ryan had her outside, she breathed in the night air. “You’re a very good dancer. I had no idea I’d be the center of attention with you out there, or I might have declined.”
He chuckled, but it sounded forced to his ears. The bearded man had followed them out and lurked in the shadows beside the tavern window.<
br />
“Excuse me one moment?” Ryan asked.
Madison nodded.
The bearded man watched him head for the door, making his way closer to Madison the farther away Ryan stepped. With one fluid motion, Ryan pulled his sword free and advanced on the bearded man.
Before he gained two steps the bearded man pulled out his weapon and faced Ryan, back to Madison.
Ryan tightened his grip. “What do you want with her?” He circled closer to Madison.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Ryan glanced at Madison. “He followed you out here.”
She giggled. “He’s my bodyguard.” Madison put her hand on the bearded man’s shoulder. “Stop, Torin. He’s fine.”
“What?” Ryan sheathed his sword.
Madison’s smile was rueful. “I trusted you. He didn’t. But I think he does now.”
Torin just mumbled and walked back to his dark post under the window.
Ryan stayed rooted to the porch. “You need a bodyguard?”
She rolled up her sleeve and the red, raised birthmark of a Blood Moon stared back at him. She lowered her sleeve, but Torin was already voicing his concern.
“Don’t worry.” Ryan pulled is collar aside and let her see the identical mark on his chest. He didn’t let her gaze linger, though. His mark had been changed.
“Wait.” She rushed up to him and moved his shirt. He tried to stop her, but she placed a hand on his. “I’ve seen this mark before. My sister told me that a man with this mark was going to help me.”
“Help you? How?”
Laughter and the creak of an opening door interrupted them, and Madison stopped talking. She pulled him aside. “When can I see you again?”
This had just taken a strange turn. “I’m here every night.”
“Good. I need to talk to my sister again, but I’ll come back to see you. Promise you won’t forget me?”
Easy. “Okay.”
“You might just be the missing piece we need.” She grabbed his left hand and touched the cuts from One Eye’s sword. Her fingers glided over the wounds and a trickle of heat skittered over his skin. He looked down as a cool breeze chased the warmth and left the skin healed. He looked up at her with wide eyes. She smiled, dropped his hand, and kissed his cheek. “You truly are a knight.” Then she stole into the shadows with her bodyguard. Gone. Just like that.