Brannick swallowed before answering. “Yes. When your father defeated Ansel in a sword fight, the bargain required Ansel to give your father strength against his enemies and protection from all fae until after he had lived a happy life.”
An icy shiver trailed down Elora’s spine. Even when she tried to shake it out, the chill persisted. If she had known all that, she might have glared a little harder at Ansel when she met him in the Dustdune ballroom. A deeper shiver shook inside her. She turned to the prince while nausea curdled her stomach. “You just said that to Quintus so he wouldn’t suspect I have sword skill though, right? Ansel hasn’t really been asking if he can have me.” She gulped. “Right?”
The prince only stared back at her. At his side, Blaz covered his nose with both paws and stared at the ground. Brannick brushed the end of his coat. His voice came out lower, with a warning attached. “As long as you do not leave the castle without an escort, you will be safe. Even your sprite friend can act as an escort. She has enough magic. Just do not go anywhere alone.”
The ice had spread from Elora’s spine and up into her throat. She tried to swallow down the cold lump, but it wouldn’t budge. Ansel had once tried to claim her father, and now he wanted to claim her too. And that was only because of her harp skill. He didn’t even know about her sword skill.
While her thoughts spun, Brannick nodded to his wolf. Blaz’s black fur flounced as he padded over to one corner of the room. While the wolf moved, Brannick removed his coat and lifted his sword.
The sight of his bare chest was just enough to thaw the ice in her throat. Or maybe she was simply too distracted to notice it anymore. When he ran his hands through his hair, something tangled in her heart. But the tangle felt like rapture, not entrapment.
Breathing had become a problem though. How was she supposed to breathe when he just stood there looking so beautiful? Good thing she had firmly decided not to fall in love with him. He’d have far too much power over her if she did.
“Give me your sheath. I need to put a glamour on it that will make it and your sword both invisible.”
Her fingers stumbled over the buckle, but at least she had managed to suck in a few breaths. When she handed it to him, she had to place her hands on one side to be sure their fingers didn’t touch.
He grasped the sheath tight with one hand and then waved his other hand over top of it. His dark lips opened and closed as he muttered hushed words. Perhaps if she’d been listening more carefully she could have deciphered them, but every bit of her attention had moved to his eyes.
They burst with light and color, yet they appeared colorless at the same time. The pulsing between color and light had mesmerized her several times before, but something felt different this time. Now that he focused on creating the glamour, his expression turned like she had never seen it before. It wasn’t as heavy. It wasn’t as cold.
He held so much weight in his eyes and in his shoulders too. Had it worsened since she first met him? Was it because his essence was suffering, like Kaia had said?
She didn’t notice when he finished working, but she did notice when he caught her staring at him. Heat surged through her face as she hurriedly glanced away.
With the sheath in one hand, he stepped closer to her. Too close. They didn’t touch, but she could feel his breath when it left his lips. Dipping his head, he reached for the part of her sword where the hilt met the blade.
His thumb traced a circle over the cross guard. With each rotation, his skin came dangerously close to brushing against hers. But she knew what would happen if they touched. She had seen it twice already. He would vanish, cease to exist.
Holding her breath didn’t make his thumb any farther away from hers, but she did it anyway. Controlling her breath made it easier to control her hand too. At least he couldn’t read her mind because then he’d know how her fingers itched to reach out. How they longed to brush against his.
After tracing the same spot several times, Brannick now held his thumb in place. He closed his eyes and dipped his head down a little more. It forced her to move back or else their foreheads would have collided.
He opened his eyes. They flashed bright and strong, even more enchanting than before. They were frustratingly gorgeous. He pointed to the sword in the spot he had just been touching. “Your sheath is now glamoured to appear invisible to all, including yourself.”
Did it mean something that she hadn’t even noticed when her sheath went invisible?
Brannick continued as he pointed to the spot on her sword once again. “There is one exception. When you touch this spot on your sword, you will be able to see the sheath. Once the sword touches the sheath, the sword will also appear invisible.”
Had he taken off his coat just to bewitch her? Because the words from his lips could only barely hold enough interest to keep her from staring at his bare chest. Even then, she kept stealing glances.
In a panic, she slammed her eyes shut and backed into the wall of spears behind her. Only once the spears dangled at her back did she finally open her eyes. Luckily, Brannick had stayed in place. Her fingers fumbled as she attempted to buckle the sheath around her waist once again. It took longer than it should have, but she eventually managed.
Clearing her throat, she cut her sword across the empty air.
“Perfect. Now it’s time to train.”
SIX
▲▼▲
THINKING CAME EASIER WITH a sword in hand. It didn’t matter if Elora’s opponent had rippling muscles or captivating eyes. She could ignore everything and focus only on the slices and strikes of her blade.
After a few introductory moves, she quickly determined Brannick was ready for more complicated maneuvers. Maybe he had faster reflexes, more strength, and better eyesight than a mortal, but she still assumed responsibility for his quick learning.
Some of it had to be due to her teaching skills.
From the corner of the room, Blaz pawed at a feather and leather string that hung from a nearby spear. His ears perked every time Elora or the prince breathed harder than usual. Though the wolf didn’t interact with them during their practice, his presence still provided a surprising amount of comfort.
Elora taught the prince two different sequences of sword moves, which they then practiced several times. The more complicated moves caused them both to breathe heavier, but apparently fae had greater endurance than mortals too.
At least she still had something the prince didn’t have, and that was expert sword skill. She jabbed and parried with finesse, blocking his blows with ease. When he got increasingly frustrated by how quickly she beat him, his sword came crashing down harder.
He fueled his swings with desperation. That only made it easier to beat him. He had grown skilled enough that she only had to hold back a little. But his increased frustration led to an unintentional slice.
The tip of her blade skittered across Brannick’s shoulder, leaving behind tiny spots of blood. It was the sort of injury that would heal in a few days and not affect muscle movement. At least that’s what it should have been.
But a sizzle of steam erupted from the prince’s shoulder. Elora squeezed her sword with a gasp and jumped forward. His bare shoulder still had puffs of steam swirling out from the tiny scratch. She reached for it without thinking, desperate to help.