Page 107 of Hellbound

Ksenia couldn’t help but eye the opening of his tunic and that long scar running up his neck before she quickly averted her gaze back to his hands.

Maybe he got it from a similar duel to the death.

“You fight with no finesse or structure.” His smooth, even voice could have been paying her a compliment. “I’ve seen your progression. I thought you were disciplined at first, but you’ve only gotten worse.”

“Has anyone ever commended your motivational speaking skills? You’re a sparkling conversationalist.”

“So I’ve been told.” He retrieved a spear from the weapon rack and stood before her, flexing his broad shoulders and twirling the spear languidly between slender fingers, still not looking. “I have some rules.”

Of course. He probably had sub-rules for his rules.

“What’ll it be, Captain.”

“Rule one: You will follow the training regimen I lay out for you, including the conditioning.” She let slip an eye roll, but he continued undeterred.

“Rule two: I will break you to pieces and leave you behind if you do not rise to the occasion.”

“That isn’t a rule.”

“Consider it a promise then.” His voice was low and soft as he examined the spear point. “Rule three: If you do not surpass my expectations soon, I will ‘discharge’ you from the position.”

She stilled, then glowered.

“Interesting. So, despite me fairly winning the trials, you reserve the right to remove me from it at any point you deem fit?”

“I’m glad you can listen.”

“That’s not what I—”

“And I’m sure you’re now adequately motivated for our nightly sparring sessions.”

Nightly? Even Varka had given her time off, which she desperately needed to handle her other little problem.

In the old stories, the most dangerous betrayals come from within the walls. Those who know where you sleep also know where you’re most vulnerable. Vornaya warned.

That could work both ways.

She slung off her cloak and deposited it on a weapon rack, sending a longbow crashing to the ground.

His jaw ticked.

A wicked smile slipped to her lips.

He stepped into the center of the arena, firelight casting ominous shadows over his face and figure.

“When you step into the ring, the match will begin.”

She unsheathed Caromir and pointed it downward. He casually turned his head to watch her approach. Watch her stalk him.

She lowered her stance and launched herself at his back.

He pivoted, and she did as well. Changing directions in a split second.

A slash across his chest.

He turned away, minimizing his energy expenditure. His eyes were focused and clear as a slow smile spread across his face. “What’s next?”

A growl rattled her chest as she lunged forward, her movements quick but reckless. She spotted an opening and leaned all of her weight into the horizontal strike.