To Kill a Kingdom(56)

“I’m going to teach you how to survive,” I correct. “First lesson being: Don’t stand like that.”

I gesture to her feet, which are pressed closely together, knees as straight as nails. If Lira really was telling the truth about her family, then I’d expect her to know better. Warriors from Polemistés are nothing if not natural mercenaries. But then, she said her family died when she was just a child, and that could mean she was too young to be properly coached.

I adjust my position and Lira widens her stance to match. She’s like a mirror, even raising her arm to mimic the bend in my elbow.

“If I beat you, what do I win?” she asks.

“The ability to defend yourself.”

Her smile is lethal. “And if I kill you?”

“False confidence is nobody’s friend,” I school in a faultless echo of my father’s voice.

And then I attack.

Lira swoops her sword up in a high arc, blocking my first blow. She’s quick, but uncertain. Her feet are clumsy and when she sidesteps, her knees knock against each other. She doesn’t seem used to walking, let alone have the right footwork for a duel. I swing again, slower and softer than before. Our swords clink together.

I twist away and bring my sword above my head, giving Lira an opening to attack. She doesn’t hesitate. Her blade comes down on mine, hard. If she’s not going to win by skill, she’s going to do it with brute force. Never mind that I’m actually trying to teach her something. All she wants to learn is how to win.

I crouch down and sweep my foot under hers, but she jumps at the last minute and I miss. “That’s good,” I say. “How did you know I was going to do that?”

“You’re highly predictable.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop retreating, then. When I attack, it’s your job to get me on the defensive. Always switch your position so your opponent needs to be the one to get away.”

“Wars aren’t won by running,” she says.

“You can’t win a war,” I tell her. “Someone else just loses.”

Lira’s sword wavers and a look of confusion passes over her severe features. Like she expected another kind of reply from the siren-slaying prince. When she doesn’t speak, I point my sword at her, uneasy with the lingering silence. “Attack me,” I say.

She lurches forward with enough power that our blades smash against each other. The noise ricochets on long after I step away. Lira strikes again, repeatedly, and with no real purpose other than to do any kind of harm. It’s the same misguided mistake that all novices make. Attacking with no goal but death.

“Have a purpose,” I tell her, blocking another attempt.

Lira’s breath is quick and heavy. “What does that mean?”

“You have to decide what you want. What’s going to cause the most harm and how you can achieve it. You have to think before you attack.”

I press forward and Lira withdraws, then steps toward me. Her feet jabbing and dancing across the deck. It’s not exactly graceful, but it’s better. At the very least, she’s a fast learner.

I bring my arm down on hers, harder this time. A little more force with each blow, until I can see her arms begin to falter. Just when I think her sword is going to drop, she twists to the side and brings her left elbow up. I block it just in time, inches before my nose is shattered. She’s adapting, using whatever she has to win. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so shrewd.

I push Lira away and she falls to the floor with a grunt. She flips onto her back, elbows digging into the wood of the deck, and lets out a long breath.

“Gallantry is not your strong point,” she says.

“I’ll remember that the next time you’re drowning.”

“I wasn’t drowning.” Lira heaves herself off the floor. “I can’t drown.”

“No,” I say. “You can’t swim.”

She glowers and then raises her sword, gesturing for me to do the same. I’m more than happy to oblige. It seems I can get under her skin after all.

Lira pierces the blade forward, aiming for my heart. I jump out of the way and slam the handle of my sword into her stomach. She stutters back, but her teeth are ground together. There’s no scream or sign of pain aside from the devilish flicker in her eyes. I think about stopping, but I don’t have the chance before she’s surging toward me once more.

She throws her weight into the next blow and I struggle to bring my sword up fast enough. It’s unexpected, and I take a moment too long to process it, giving Lira the perfect opening.

Her fist cracks against my cheek.

The pain is intense but fleeting, and Lira blinks, surprised at herself. I’m less shocked at her for taking the opening than I am at myself for giving it. I kick my leg up, sending Lira’s sword flying across the deck. She tries to copy the gesture, aligning her foot directly with my heart. But she can’t keep her balance, and as soon as her ankle is in the air, I grab it and twist. She whirls over and crashes onto her hip.

I take a step toward her. Her palms are flat on the deck, but when she sees me nearing, her head whips up and she curls her leg out. I feel my feet being swept out from under me, but catch myself before I slam beside her.

I step back and Lira pounces to her feet again. We eye each other like hunter and prey, and I cock an eyebrow, daring her to move toward me. Lira smiles impishly in return and picks up her fallen weapon.