Page 99 of Dhampira

Vander just smiled, his attention on me.

Narrowing my eyes, I waited for him to show a weakness or, as he called it, a tell. So far, he didn’t appear to have any. He alternated feet, his russet hair catching the light as he bobbed up and down.

“Will you stop moving?” I asked, exasperation flaring.

“Why, so you can stab me with”—his lips twitched as he glanced at the steel in my hand—“Dark Dream?”

Lorcan frowned from the bench. “Don’t make fun of my sword.”

I feinted left, then backpedaled when Vander anticipated the movement and deflected my blade. The vibration of the blow traveled up my arm to my shoulder. I clenched my jaw.

“Don’t clench your jaw,” Vander said. He shuffled his feet, bouncing harder. Up and down. Up and down. His unusual sword left blue streaks in the air as he whipped it around his body.

“What do you call your sword?” I asked him. Maybe if I kept him talking, I could tire him out. He was a big man. He couldn’t jump around like an idiot forever.

“It’s a feyblade,” he said. “Cast in Veradorn.” Haughtiness touched his features. “The elves don’t name their weapons.” He sprang forward, swinging his sword down in a powerful sweep.

Gasping, I parried, our blades clashing in a scream of metal. But Vander kept coming, driving me backward with so much force that I lost my footing and landed hard on my ass.

Pain shot up my spine. Vander tapped the flat of the feyblade against the side of my neck.

“Dead.”

Growling, I knocked away the sword with Dark Dream, and I ignored his extended hand as I kicked my skirts out of the way and clambered to my feet.

Vander stood back. “You’re waiting for me to tire. It’s a decent strategy, but it depends on what your opponent is going to do. It’s a passive move.”

My lungs burned, and the muscles in my arm and shoulder throbbed. We’d been practicing for so long, our boots had flattened the grass.

When I finally caught my breath, I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “I don’t know why you insist on teaching me swordplay. You already said I’ll never best a warrior.”

“Perhaps not with a sword,” Lorcan said, standing. He crossed the grass and took Dark Dream from me. Instead of sheathing it, he leaned it against the bench. Then he returned, his cool gaze falling on Vander. “There are other ways to disable an opponent.”

Vander groaned. “Not this again.”

“Put down your nameless sword, Sir Vander.”

“What kind of ways?” I asked, my curiosity sparking.

Lorcan gave Vander a sympathetic look. “If you’re too nervous, we don’t have to show her.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Of course not.”

Snorting, Vander went to the bench and leaned his feyblade next to Dark Dream.

Lorcan turned to me. “You’ll probably want to back up a little for this. Vander takes up a lot of space when he falls.”

“Now who’s being an asshole?” Vander asked, rolling up his sleeves as he moved in front of Lorcan.

Lorcan’s eyes gleamed as he angled his body sideways and lifted his hands. His fingers curled loosely, he crooked a finger at Vander. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Vander’s throat bobbed. Then a determined look descended over his features. Copying Lorcan’s pose, he gave a short nod.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then they charged each other at the same moment. Vander thrust an arm out, his hand angled like a blade.

Lorcan dodged the blow, spun in a blur of black, and landed a flurry of light blows on Vander’s lower back, upper thigh, and forearm before spinning back to his original position.