Fates Entwined: Halven Rising

It was a good thing Reese had asked Ulric to convince the seamstress to give her something comfortable to wear, because Keen was bent on breaking her ass in training.

“Again,” Keen said, after Reese had performed twenty perfect roundhouse kicks.

“I told you”—she started another set—“I’m a black belt in tae kwon do. It was the one extracurricular my mom allowed me to choose. I won best in my weight class senior year of high school.”

“That may be, but you are short and you weigh less than my sword.”

“I’m not short, I’m five foot six!”

“Exactly. Short.”

She gave up arguing, because she was small compared to the six- and seven-foot Fae.

“During a fight with a female,” he continued, pacing annoyingly behind her, “you might be evenly matched, even with the Fae’s taller stature, but not against a male. And not against either male or female if they possess weapons or use magic.”

Reese could fight a six-foot opponent and kick his ass, as long as she accounted for his longer reach, but not a seven-foot opponent. And Keen was right. If they had weapons or magical abilities, she was screwed.

“You also use your legs too much,” he pointed out. “That alone will not save you in a fight. You must practice arm strikes.”

She nailed the bag with an axe kick. “Punching didn’t earn me points in competitions.”

“There are no rules when fighting Fae. The first to kill wins.”

Reese faltered, and her next kick landed off. She grabbed the bag and caught her breath, letting his words sink in.

“We will focus on full-body battle tactics,” he said, and walked to the center of the mat. He got into ready position. “Perform overhand rights, and uppercuts.”

She let go of the bag and moved closer. “You want me to hit you?”

He sneered. “If you can.”

Oh, she could. She’d been waiting for the opportunity to strike that smug look off his face. Bring. It.

Reese enjoyed hammering Keen with kicks and punches, but the darn Fae was fast. She didn’t hit him nearly as often as she would have liked.

She made one last uppercut attempt—and found herself twisted around, her arm locked across her stomach and her back to Keen’s chest.

His breath swept over her ear and the side of her face, as though his head had dipped closer. “You will need to work harder if you wish to best one of us.” His words came out more sexy than threatening.

Her throat suddenly went dry, her heart hammering. “I need rest.”

Keen released her as quickly as he’d disarmed her.

She limped toward the door. “And I could use another one of those trays of pastries and fruit. And cheese. I need lots of cheese. Please don’t tell me what kind of animal it comes from. I’m afraid to ask after sampling the meat in the sandwich I ate this afternoon. It tasted gamey.”

He hooked the kicking bag off to the side. “The animals in Tirnan are different from those on Earth.”

She closed her eyes and held up her hand. “Shhh, no more. Your food tastes good; that’s all I need to know.”

He shrugged and walked her to her room, stopping outside the door. “You are a better fighter than I assumed.”

“Why, thank you.” She smiled broadly. It was one of the best compliments he could have given her.

“Tomorrow, we will focus on weapons.”

Whoa, what? “But weapons kill.”

“It is very difficult to kill a Fae, and highly unlikely you will accomplish it. If you should find yourself in a fight, having the ability to maim might allow you time to escape.”

So he wanted her to run and hide? That wasn’t her style. Though… “Weapons. Even if your kind can’t die from them, I’m not a big fan of guns and such.”

“You must get used to them if you are to survive. I cannot watch your every move.” Keen glanced away. “There is one more thing. Portia is hosting a celebration in a week. She wishes you to be there. You will wear one of the gowns the servants made you.”

“Yeah, what’s with all those dresses?” She glanced down at the stretchy black pants, sleek boots, and the comfortable black tunic she wore. “This is way more my style while we’re here. And, hey, it’s better for training.”

“Agreed. You will wear the uniform when we train. The dresses are for formal events. During your stay here, you’re considered a part of the New Kingdom court. You must dress as the nobles do. I convinced Portia that if the Fae see you as a friend to the nobility, it might prevent them from attacking you.”

“Awesome.” She shook her head. “Not like I don’t stand out anyway. I’m fair like the rest of you, but I’m still short, as you’ve so graciously pointed out.”

“This is true. Anyone paying attention to your energy level can also tell you’re Halven. Not to mention, the entire palace is aware of your presence.”

“Exactly. So why do I need to wear those giant dresses?”

Keen’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Because they are appropriate.” He nodded at a guard outside her room, gesturing for the man to open the heavy wooden door.

“Those monstrosities are what you find appropriate?” she called after him as he walked away.

“At the palace? Yes. Anywhere else?” He looked over his shoulder and down her body. “What you have on would do.”

“Because it covers every inch of me?”

“Precisely.”

Grrr. She’d show him “appropriate.”