Page 70 of Harbinger

He tilts his head, something distant and thoughtful shining in his eyes. “Sometimes. It’s simpler at the Bellatorum. Fight. Win. Don’t accidentally get yourself killed.” His grin is crooked. “The rest of life is messier.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter.

“I’d rather show you.” He stands and extends his hand.

I drop mine into his, panic building in my chest as he pulls me to my feet. “Show me what?”

But he walks to the rack of swords and picks one up. He turns it over in his hand. “What it’s like.”

I hesitate, but the challenge in his voice is unmistakable. Watery fear churns in my stomach—I’m the one who needs to prove myself. That’s why he brought me here, and now he’s armed. I could run, but he’ll catch me. I stand a better chance with a sword in my hands.

“Fine,” I say, crossing to the weapon rack. “Show me, but if you’re going to kill me, make it quick.”

I’m only half joking.

“I like a girl who keeps things interesting.” He steps to the side and allows me to choose a sword. They all look roughly the same. Basic, unadorned apart from the wolf head carved into the hilt. Some have a little more blood dried onto the blade than others. I grab the closest one. It’s heavier than Kieren’s—the only sword I’ve ever held—but the handle fits neatly in my palm. I test the weight, swinging it around. It wobbles in my right hand, so I add my left to keep it steady. That helps a little. But I’m pretty sure the shaking has more to do with the potential for imminent death than a lack of strength.

Taliesin begins circling me, eyes narrowed. “Have you ever fought before?”

“Once or twice.” I’m not sure knocking sticks around with my best friend or a few self-defense lessons count. But the last thing I want is to appear like an easy target. Even if I am.

He smirks like we’re playing Liar’s Hand and he just glimpsed my cards. “Perfect. Let’s see how you do.”

I grip the handle as tightly as I can, every muscle in my arms straining at the effort.

“Relax your hold,” he advises. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Except you.

He comes at me fast, his blade swishing through the air. But the swing is sloppy—almost lazy. I barely block it, my heart jumping into my throat. He laughs and dances back.

“Good,” he says. “Again.”

This time, he’s serious. The blows come faster, harder. I block the first two, but the third slices across my arm. I yelp as air hits the wound, and Taliesin backs off, lowering his sword.

“You’re not bad,” he says, barely breathless. “Better than most first years.”

Being scared shitless for your life will do that. “Was that a compliment?”

He shrugs. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

I drop the sword to the ground and look down at the cut.

“Just one thing.” His movement is a flash, and a second later, he’s behind me, his blade hovering at my throat. “Never assume the fight is over. Never drop your weapon.”

I don’t dare speak. Breathe. Move. Gone is the grinning man from this morning. In his place is someone hard. Determined. Dangerous. A knight who has proven his loyalty and is ready to protect the kingdom from … me.

“Lots of people want you dead,” he whispers into my ear.

Well, that deserves a response.

“Like you?” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“That depends.”

So much for his promise to make it quick. “On what?”

“On you.” The blade presses harder into my skin. “Now, give me one good reason not to kill you.”