The King's Lover

Chapter 16

           

    They moved a few tables out of the way so there was space, and then Broce nodded at a lower guard. Kusy wasn't even sure he was a guard—he was small, thin, carried a small knife instead of a sword. She ducked his meager swing and kicked his feet out from under him, sending him tumbling to the ground. She gave Broce a dark look.

     "Pathetic."

     He shrugged and signaled to another low guard. This one carried a sword and swung at her head, a swing she had to jump back to avoid. He didn't pause before changing directions and stabbing forward. It was only a training sword—they weren't really trying to kill her—and Kusy dropped to the ground and rolled, swinging her arm around when she got up. Her knuckles hit the man's temple, hard, and he went down. She looked at Broce.

     "You call that a challenge?"

     Another guard came forward, then another, and another. Kusy defeated all of them without faltering; she wasn't even out of breath. Finally, Broce nodded at a member of the high guard.

    It was a large man, thick brown hair sticking straight up with sweat. He'd come in sometime when Kusy had been telling Broce how incompetent his guards had been and had tried to slip into the sleeping quarters unnoticed, but Broce had seen him and called him forward.

     Now, sighing, he stood before Kusy with his fists up. He was waiting for her to make the first move—the first of the guards to do so.

     She spun, kicking out at him with her leg. He blocked it, but she found her balance easily. She'd just been trying to see his reaction time—he was fast. Not as fast as her, but fast.

    "I do not believe we have met," Kusy said, ducking one of his swings and retaliating with an uppercut to his stomach. He staggered back, looking at her curiously.

     "You didn't ask anyone else their name."

     She shrugged, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek. "None of the others lasted this long."

     Laughing, he swung at her again, and this time she blocked and kneed him in the stomach where she'd hit him before. Before he could recover she'd hooked one leg around his ankle and pulled it out from beneath him.

     He went down, coughing, and hit the floor hard. "My name's Krow," he told her, still coughing. "And yours?"

     "Ku—" she'd dropped her guard, thought the fight was over—stupid. He knocked her legs out from underneath her and she fell, landing on her elbows and knees awkwardly. 

     "I know who you are," he told her, rolling to his feet. "Just distracting you."
    He held his hand out to help her up, and she hesitated, glancing at it. When he grinned, a bit cockily, at her, she grabbed it, spun to put her back against his chest, and threw him forward over her shoulder.

     She heard his breath whoosh out of his body when he hit the floor and crossed her arms. "Congratulations," she told him as he coughed again. "You are officially the first one not to be completely useless."

     She turned to Broce as Krow rolled to his feet. "Well?" She asked impatiently. "Have I proven to be a worthy enough protector for your queen?"

     His face was a collection of frown lines. "Not yet." She watched, trying not to groan in impatience, as he unbuckled his sword belt and threw it aside. "If you defeat me, I'll be satisfied."

     She shrugged. "Fine."

    He came at her fast, relentlessly, a flurry of fists and feet. Kusy dodged and blocked every hit, spinning faster than him. She could tell he was getting frustrated as he lashed out, but he couldn't land a hit.

     After a minute he stepped back, panting slightly, and drew a knife from his belt. He didn't give Kusy a chance to draw hers before advancing again, slashing at her now, the blade a line of silver cutting through the air. She kept blocking, kept dodging, until—

     He faked a right punch and when she blocked that, the knife whistled through the air. She managed to pull her head back, but the knife still caught her cheekbone, the edge slicing through her skin.

     They staggered apart. The room was silent as Kusy put her fingers to the cut, feeling the blood on her fingers. Broce was about to smile when she narrowed her eyes and drew her knives.

     He got into a defensive position but she whirled without getting closer to him, throwing a knife when she faced him again. It whistled through the air and sliced through the side of his shirt.

     He looked down, fingered the cut with one hand. "You missed—"
    Her boots thudded into his chest, forcing him back. His back hit the wall and she shoved her forearm against his throat before stabbing the knife into the wall, cutting the edge of his ear intentionally.

     "That," she said in his other ear. "Is what you get for being cocky, Commander."

     She pulled back and yanked her knife away, sheathing it smoothly. "I trust you will remove the guard on Juliet now," she said, stepping carefully on her other knife so it flipped up into her waiting hand.

    He nodded, touching the edge of his ear. "Yes."

     "What was that?" She leaned forward, one knife still in hand. "I do not believe I heard the whole sentence."

     "Yes...Your Highness." He glared at her as he said her title, but she didn't care.

     "It was slightly entertaining to spar with you," she said to him and the other guards gathered around. "You have good effort. It is the thought that counts, I suppose."

     She turned to face Juliet, who was pretending to itch her nose to disguise her laugh. "Your Majesty," Kusy said. "Shall we take our leave?"

     Juliet pushed off the table and glanced once more at the Commander. "I believe we shall, Your Highness."

     They walked out without looking back.