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The beautiful ebon haired female stalked him like a lioness and Edmund worried he’d gotten into the wrong line of work.
He lunged toward her, extending the Ordinary sword toward the middle of her body expecting her to parry, but she didn’t. She slipped aside, lithe as a dancer and cut along his arm, tearing the fabric and slicing his arm, skin and muscle tearing as the slim glowing blade passed over them.
“I could have killed you just now” she whispered gently as she glided past his ear.
He whirled around, shutting out the pain as he looked to parry her next blow which didn’t fall. She merely circled around, looking for all the world as if mingling at a party rather than fighting to the death.
“I believe you” he muttered.
“Suggestions?” he asked in the general direction of his guards.
“Stab her” Tom suggested.
“Slice her” called Stoppard.
“Tear your shirt and cover the wound before you bleed to death” was Percival’s practical input.
‘If I could without lowering my guard I would’ he thought to himself. Still, she seemed a patient predator, so he took a moment to tear his tunic and wind it around his arm while keeping his sword raised to lunge or parry. She…
