Born of Water

Born of Water Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

LESSONS

Darag repositioned Lavinia's hand.

"For this defense you need to have your hand lower, here. That way you can take the force better and not lose your grip."

Lavinia nodded, her eyes narrowed with concentration. Sweat stuck a strand of her dark hair to her brow. Darag resisted the urge to brush it away.

"Like this?"

Lavinia moved forward, dancing through the series of moves with a fluidity that usually came only after years of practice. Darag grinned.

"Yes, only now try it against me."

"I never win against you." Lavinia's voice was a bit petulant, reminding him of Beite. But she moved back to the first position, holding the sword in perfect form.

"That's because I already know what you are going to do."

Lavinia went rigid, her eyes widening. Then a wicked twinkle lit her sky-blue eyes.

"Really?" She drew out word.

Darag's chest constricted with warmth, a laugh escaping with his exhale. He smiled down at Lavinia with a reckless grin while his heart beat as if they'd been practicing for hours.

This time he had to be quick to counter her blade as defense slid to offense. She knew it, too, surprising him with a quick thrust. His block overextended her reach and he gently knocked the blade from her hand. Despite the loss, she was grinning. Darag shook his head, a smile remaining on his lips, as well. She was always surprising him.

Turning to walk back to the center of the small clearing, he realized that they were not alone. Cuileann had approached without his notice. A cold wave swept through Darag with sudden self-consciousness, displacing the heat from the moment before. He stood stiffly as Cuileann swaggered toward them.

Lavinia had picked up her sword. She glanced at Darag, a line forming between her brows when she saw his expression. Her gaze followed his, widening when she saw the new arrival.

Beite rarely went a day without mentioning Cuileann. He wasn't old enough to choose, nor was Beite anywhere close to being old enough herself, but it didn't keep Beite from dreaming or Cuileann from flirting. Tall, with light-brown patterns across his skin, red-brown hair, and golden eyes, Cuileann received a lot of attention. In Darag's opinion, it showed.

But he was a skilled fighter. As he walked across the clearing to join them, he casually shaped a practice sword from a stick. Lavinia's expression remained far from impressed. Darag had to suppress his smile. Lavinia was not Beite.

"Lavinia, I don't know if you've met Cuileann."

Lavinia took Cuileann's measure. "I'm not sure..."

"Well, I've seen you." Cuileann brushed off the lack of recognition.

"You fight as well?" Lavinia asked, taking more interest as she nodded toward his sword.

Cuileann gave her a winning smile. "Of course."

"So, how am I doing then?" she asked, crossing her arms. Darag sensed the doubt hidden under the tough front Lavinia presented to Cuileann.

"Not bad, but it should be more like this."

Cuileann spun through the moves Lavinia had just executed. She watched carefully, her initial reserve falling away.

"See, your hands move here. Grip the sword so." Cuileann placed his hand on Lavinia's. He pushed her arm forward and slid the other hand down. "You see?" Cuileann asked, face close to hers.