Her brother had no idea how proficient she was in the art of combat. But then, he’d kept her secret since childhood. She wondered for a moment if she could trust him. He bowed before striding from the practice room, back perfectly straight. After near twenty years, he was used to her stubbornness by now. The sword master shrugged in resignation. She couldn’t trust those inside her House, either, but at least they were the devils she knew. They say he’s killed three dragons alone. Oh, the skills she could learn from one of them. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was certain a Dragon Lord could best her easily. Dragon Lords, the genetically enhanced super soldiers with their diamond edged swords, were the only ones who could kill a dragon in hand to hand combat. Short of kidnapping a Dragon Lord, I don’t see who could help. I wish there was someone better to help you improve your skills. Practice is essential, regardless of skill. Especially when other people could read them. Inside, she smiled, but outside she gave no indication of emotion. I don’t know why you think you need lessons. He pulled out a white handkerchief to stem the flow of blood. He raised his sword in a salute, which she returned. The tip of her sword nicked her opponent, bright blood welling on his forearm.įirst blood, the sword master said, stepping back. She brought her own blade to bare, slashing out faster than a striking snake. Mai whirled, dancing out of the way with the grace of a ballerina, toes barely skimming the floor. THE SWORD CAME OUT of nowhere, slicing toward her like it would hack her head right off. And to Alin Silverwood, who keeps me caffeinated and (mostly) sane. To Tara West for giving me critical feedback as only a great critique partner can. Thanks, as always, to Bonnie Toering for helping me brainstorm, reading the ugly first draft, and being a sounding board.
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