Page 95 of Quicksilver

Ren turned his attention to me, and my spine stiffened a touch. Not with fear, exactly. More…anticipation. I knew more than the basics of sword fighting. I'd held plenty of them. I'd made enough of them in secret while apprenticing with Elroy in his workshop. I knew how they were weighted. How they tipped in your hand when you swung them. I knew what the press of a cold steel hilt felt like resting on the top of a closed hand. But these Fae swords were different. The blades themselves were narrower. Longer. The cross guard was non-existent, as if a Faewarrior would never make a mistake so stupid as allowing their hands to slip forward down a sharpened edge.

Ren did exactly that, though. He took the weapon Carrion had been practicing with by the blade and crossed the riverbank, holding it out, offering me the grip. “What do you say, Saeris? Want to try your hand at a little point and stab?”

No. I was going to say no. Definitely. One hundred percent. I was still convinced that I was going to decline, even as my hand closed around the leather-wrapped hilt.Fuck.I really didn't have it in me to back down from a challenge...

Ren grinned broadly. “Atta girl.” He spun around and headed back to the clearing where he'd 'fought' Carrion, resting the blade of his own sword on his shoulder. “In the west, in Voriel, at the port city of Western Dow, the Darn flows out into the s—”

He turned and blocked. It happened so fast. One second, his back was to me. The next, he had dropped low, his shoulder level with my chest, and his sword was raised defensively above his head, edge to edge with mine.

I hadn'tactuallybeen going to strike him. I'd turned the blade so that only the flat would have made contact with his shoulder. It had seemed like a smart-ass way to begin our lesson. Elroy had gotten me with the old,never lower your defenses, never turn your back on your enemy,more times than I could count. Fat lot it had done me, though. Turned out, Renfis's guard was never down. That, or the general had eyes in the back of his head. He didn't even blink. “On a clear day, you can see all the way to Tarran Ross Island from the cliffs of Western Dow.”

He came at me.

I saw a flash of silver as his sword moved.

And then I saw the snow-pregnant sky.

And then I saw the ground.

Then, I saw stars.

It was all over in a heartbeat.

Carrion's loud whoop echoed along the riverbank. “Thatwasfunny. Now I see why you were laughing so hard.”

I'd have cursed him roundly for being such a prick, but he was right. I'd laughed at him plenty. It was only fair. And I couldn't fucking breathe anyway.

Ren appeared in the patch of sky above my head. He frowned down at me. “You all right?”

“Ugh. Uh....yes?”

He laughed. “Want to go again?”

“Yes.” I mean, once you'd already had your legs taken out from underneath you, what was another ten or eleven face-first collisions with hard-packed snow? Even as I allowed him to help me to my feet, I made the decision there and then that I wouldn’t go down again, though.

I’d watched Renfis. I’d studied the way he moved, so I adapted my own fighting stance, and I learned quick. When he attacked again, I was ready. He rained down blows on me, the steel in his hands flashing like lightning, but I met each of his advances with an appropriate block. When he switched up his hold and wielded his sword like it was a club, I adjusted my stance again and made sure I threw back each of his assaults.

At first, I simply defended myself. An hour passed, the clouds growing ever darker, and Ren’s appraising feedback took on a challenging note. “What’s the matter, Saeris? You’ll never win a fight if you’re afraid to wet your steel with blood. Come on.Fightme.”

Oh, it was a fight he wanted?

If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.

It was good, being able to move like this. To have a proper weapon in my hands. Ever since Harron had bound my hands behind my back and run me through, I’d felt vulnerable. Weak. Incapable. But now… I was myself again. The girl who’d taken down three of Madra’s guardians outside The Mirage. The girlmany a Zilvaren thug had underestimated at their own peril. All of the rage and the fear that had been choking me since the Hall of Mirrors welled up inside of me and rose up the back of my throat.

I flew at Renfis, sword raised, and Iscreamed.

The general had faced down worse foes than me. I couldn’t imagine some of the horrors he’d gone toe-to-toe during his time fighting this war. But the skin around his eyesdidtighten a touch as he parried my first series of strikes. Hewashaving to concentrate, just a little. I was no fool. He could end this in a heartbeat if he wanted to. But my pride swelled when I managed to make Ren retreat a step. An actual step of retreat, earned not given. Carrion hadn't managed that. I—

“You hurl yourself at the end of that sword like youwantto die.”

I'd been readying another twisting blow, but the close proximity of the voice, right next to my ear, threw me off guard. The end of Ren's sword circled my own, ripping the weapon out of my grip, and the sword went sailing through the air. It arced beautifully, landing point-first in the snow at Kingfisher's feet.

The bastardclapped. “I see you've perfected the art of being disarmed.” He was still wearing his thick black cloak, though the hood was lowered now. We were far enough from the borders of the camp that no one would see him down here. The wolf's head gorget flashed silver at this throat.

“I know it's virtually impossible, but could you at least try to be nice?” Ren asked, squinting at Fisher through the fat snowflakes that started to fall with a purpose out of nowhere.

Fisher considered his request. Shrugged. “I couldtry.”