Morrigan's Cross Page 39


“In my world those that would kill their own kind are villains and outcasts.”

“If I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

He moved so quickly no one had a chance to react. He was behind Moira’s back, an arm around her waist. And a knife at her throat. “Of course, I wouldn’t need the knife.”

“You’re not to touch her.” Larkin laid a hand on the hilt of his own knife. “You’re not to put your hands on her.”

“Stop me,” Cian invited, and tossed his knife aside. “I’ve just snapped her neck.” He laid his hands on either side of Moira’s head, then gave her a little nudge that sent her careening into Hoyt. “Avenge her. Attack me.”

“I won’t attack the man who fought at my back.”

“I’m not at your back now, am I? Show some spine, or don’t the men of Geall have any?”

“We’ve plenty.” Larkin drew his knife, crouched. Began to circle.

“Don’t play at it,” Cian taunted. “I’m unarmed. You have the advantage. Use it—quickly.”

Larkin lunged—feinted, then slashed. And found himself flat on his back, with his knife skittering over the floor.

“You never have the advantage over a vampire. First lesson.”

Larkin shook back his hair and grinned. “You’re better than they were.”

“Considerably.” Amused, Cian held down a hand, helped Larkin to his feet.

“We’ll start with some basic maneuvers, see what you’re made of. Choose an opponent. You have one minute to take that opponent down—bare-handed. When I call switch, choose another. Move fast, and hard. Now.”

He watched his brother hesitate and the witch turn into him, using her body to shift him off balance, then hooking her foot behind his to send him down.

“Self-defense training,” Glenna announced. “I live in New York.”

While she was grinning, Hoyt swept her feet out from under her. Her ass hit the floorboards, hard. “Ouch. First request, we get pads for the floor.”

“Switch!”

They moved, they maneuvered, grappled. And it was more game and competition than training. Even so, Glenna thought, she was going to have her share of bruises. She faced off with Larkin, sensed he would hold back. So she sent him a flirtatious smile, and when the laugh lit his eyes, flipped him over her shoulder.

“Sorry. I like to win.”

“Switch.”

The bulk of King filled her vision, and she looked up, up, until she met his eyes. “Me, too,” he told her.

She went with instinct, a movement of her hands, a rapid chant. When he smiled blankly, she touched his arm. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Sure.”

When he obeyed, she glanced over, saw Cian watching her. And flushed a little. “That was probably against the rules—and it’s unlikely I’d be able to pull it off in the heat of battle, but I think it should count.”

“There are no rules. She’s not the strongest,” he called out. “She’s not the fastest. But she’s the most clever of the lot of you. She uses wile and she uses wit as much as muscle and speed. Get stronger,” he said to Glenna. “Get faster.”

For the first time he smiled. “And get a sword. We’ll start on weapons.”

By the end of the next hour, Glenna was dripping sweat. Her sword arm ached like a bad tooth from shoulder to wrist. The thrill of the work, of actually doing something tangible had long since faded into a bitter exhaustion.

“I thought I was in good shape,” she complained to Moira. “All those hours of pilates, of yoga, of weights—and I might as well be speaking to you in tongues.”

“You’re doing well.” And Moira herself felt weak and clumsy.

“I’m barely standing. I do regular exercise, hard physical training, and this is turning me into a wimp. And you look beat.”

“It’s been a very long, very hard day.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Ladies? If I could trouble you to join us. Or would you rather have a seat and discuss fashion?”

Glenna set down her water bottle. “It’s nearly three in the morning,” she said to Cian. “A dangerous time for sarcasm.”

“And prime time for your enemy.”

“That may be, but not all of us are on that same clock just yet. And Moira and Larkin have traveled a hell of a long way today and dealt with a very nasty welcome. We need to train, you’re absolutely right. But if we don’t rest we’re not going to get strong, and we’re sure as hell not going to get fast. Look at her,” Glenna demanded. “She can barely stay upright.”

“I’m fine,” Moira said quickly.

Cian gave her a long look. “Then we can blame fatigue for your sloppy swordsmanship and poor form.”

“I do well enough with a sword.” When she reached for it, blood in her eye, Larkin stepped up. He slapped a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed.

“Well enough she does, so she proved earlier tonight. But the blade wouldn’t be my cousin’s weapon of choice.”

“Oh?” A wealth of boredom was contained in the single syllable.

“She’s a decent hand with a bow.”

“She can give us a demonstration tomorrow, but for now—”

“I can do it tonight. Open the doors.”

The tone of command had Cian’s brow winging up. “You don’t rule here, little queen.”

“Nor do you.” She strode over, picked up bow and quiver. “Will you open the doors, or will I?”

“You’re not to go out.”

“He’s right, Moira,” Glenna began.

“I won’t have to. Larkin, if you would.”

Larkin moved to the doors and threw them open to the wide terrace beyond. Moira notched an arrow as she moved to the threshold. “The oak, I think.”

Cian moved to her side as the others crowded in. “Not much of a distance.”

“She wouldn’t be meaning the near one,” Larkin said and gestured. “But that one there, just to the right of the stables.”

“Lowest branch.”

“I can barely see it,” Glenna commented.

“Can you?” Moira demanded of Cian.

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