“Does the professor spar with steel?” Karigan asked.

“No, no. I just thought you probably did, being as well trained as you are.”

“I only use steel when necessary to—” She faltered.

Cade nodded. “When necessary to kill. That’s how it is with guns. Although there is no substitute for target practice with anything but an actual gun.”

When finally Cade chose a wooden sword to his satisfaction, they touched blades and began. Karigan kept the pace slow and steady, offering commentary as she went and pointing out his mistakes, as well as what he did correctly. Steadily, she increased speed and spoke less, enjoying the work and how her puffy sleeves billowed with each stroke and thrust.

Cade grew in confidence, turning on the offensive. Karigan let him, parrying and blocking in a steady rhythm as the clack of wooden swords echoed through the cavernous room. She let the rhythm lull him and gave him no reason to doubt his confidence. She even let him score a touch on her arm that normally, she’d deflect. When she saw the slight smile on his lips, felt the aggression increase in his attack, and saw he was about to go for kill point, she simply allowed him to put all his force into a single scything swing. Before his blow landed, she lithely pivoted out of the way. The momentum of his effort unbalanced him, and he stumbled forward. She jabbed the blunt tip of her blade into his back.

“You are dead,” she said, and explained where he had gone wrong. “Now again.”

She lulled and goaded him enough times like this that she could tell he was growing both frustrated and mistrustful. Being wary of an opponent was good. Not being able to trust oneself, not so good. When he fell for yet another trap, and she sent his sword flying across the floor, she could tell by his sharp movements and glower that he’d become angry. He stomped away to pick up his sword.

When he returned, she said, “A couple of important things—there must be balance between instinct and technique. Your technique is getting better. However, I’ve been tricking you, and it’s making you question yourself. I think you should assume that a genuine opponent will do whatever it takes to defeat you, including deception. Your instincts will grow with practice. You’ll be able to sniff out trickery. Also, if you’re angry, you are prone to make more mistakes.”

Her words did not appear to mollify him much. He still glowered. Karigan needed to be extra aware in their next bout, as fighting angry opponents could be dangerous. They became unpredictable, and trainees were apt to make painful errors in judgment.

In Cade, the anger worked to his advantage, sharpened his reactions and made him more calculating in his offensive moves. She thought she was goading him into another trap, but he pulled a reversal, and to her surprise he passed through her defenses and got kill point with a hard smack to her ribs.

“Bloody hell!” She doubled over in pain. When she caught her breath, she tentatively probed her rib cage to see if he’d broken or cracked something, but it didn’t seem like it. She’d have a good bruise, though.

Cade’s sword clattered to the floor, and he rushed to her side. “Did I—did I injure you?”

“I’m fine,” Karigan said breathlessly, gratified by his concern. “Just smarts.”

“Let me see—”

She pushed his hand away.

“I just want to see if I broke your ribs,” he said.

“With that technique? Not even close.”

“I do not trust your bold words,” he replied.

When he reached for her again, she slapped his hand away. He grabbed her wrist. She hooked her leg around his and swept him off his feet. He fell on his back, and his head thunked on the floor. He lay there unmoving.

“Hells!” Karigan knelt down beside him. “Cade? Are you all right?”

His eyes fluttered open. “What are all these stars I see?”

“Let me check the back of your head for—”

As she reached for him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “Not till I check your ribs.”

They were nearly nose to nose. The end of Karigan’s braid brushed his cheek. They glared at one another. Warmth rushed through Karigan’s body. Driven by some impulse she did not know she’d been harboring, she closed the gap between them and kissed him. He jerked beneath her. If he’d been standing and not on the floor he would have pulled back. But he couldn’t, and after the initial shock of the kiss, he relaxed and gave into it, and gave back.

What was she doing? Karigan’s blood rushed, and she shivered. His grip on her wrist had loosened, and his hand was traveling up her arm. She broke off the kiss and hopped to her feet.

“Ha!” she cried as if it had all been some grand joke. She was all at once giddy and triumphant for both kissing and besting him, and embarrassed she’d let her guard down, for revealing herself that way. And the sudden move had pulled painfully at her sore ribs. She embraced the pain, which edged out certain other sensations but not the regret for having broken off the kiss. Cade still lay down there looking bewildered. Perhaps . . . perhaps she should kiss him again?

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. She knelt again beside him, concerned. His gaze was steady and clear, not unfocused the way it would be if he had a bad head injury. Definitely not unfocused. As he reached for her, she suddenly felt shy and looked away, only to glimpse the professor standing just a few paces away, watching them. They’d been so preoccupied with one another they hadn’t heard his entrance.