A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 10

Eris was awoken by the ungodly loud barking of Soup and Oatmeal, indicating that either the world was ending, or someone was at his door. He opened one eye with distaste, looking out from his lofted bedroom to see through the great window that the sun had barely risen. The expanse of the waterfall and lower valley were still cast in the blue light of dawn, the reds and oranges of the leaves still dimmed to purple and grey in the morning light. It had better be the apocalypse, or Mother help the person who was dragging him out of bed at this hour.

He took his damn time making himself presentable—the end of the world, or whoever, could wait. The dogs, at least, quieted, though now he could hear the low, feminine voice telling Soup and Oatmeal what good boys they were for waking up their dad.

That left only one possibility, as only two females had access through his wards, and his mother, with her fear of hounds, had not entered his home since Soup and Oatmeal retired indoors, though he'd now recognize Nesta's voice anywhere. His foul mood softened—just a little. He put even more care into the smoothing of his hair and jacket, as if it were possible to improve on his daily, self-imposed standard of perfection.

As he finally descended the spiral wooden stairs that led from his loft bedroom to the great room, he said, with an odd mixture of excitement and annoyance, "Archeron. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of a dawn wake-up call?"

Nesta looked up from where she sat, legs crossed on the floor, holding the end of a chewed-up bit of rope in her hand as Soup tried to wrest the other end from her grasp. She allowed Soup the victory, gracefully unfolding her legs to stand. "I'm bored of running alone and want to move a little before Beron makes me stand still in a fairy circle for hours. Can we spar?"

She had come prepared, dressed in training leathers and practical boots. He tried not to admire the way the leathers skimmed her curves and muscles for too long, but her tight pants and jacket did not make it easy.

Nesta cleared her throat. Eris smirked in a practiced attempt to make his lingering gaze seem intentional, like a courtier's detached flirtation rather than the genuine mesmerized state he often fell into around her.

"Unless you have any soldiers or guards you'd like to introduce me to?" she asked, arms crossed and foot tapping in impatience.

"Hardly. I'll measure your abilities myself before I unleash you against anyone whose life I value."

Nesta glared at him. "That implies you don't value your own life, and that have me leashed at all."

"Would you like to be? There's another floor below the armory full of—"

"You'd best go change again. I'd hate for you to muss your velvet jacket," she said, unruffled but clearly changing the subject. "Think you can do that without getting distracted by the mirror and spending another twenty minutes staring adoringly at your own reflection?"

He held her gaze as he slowly unbuttoned his jacket, smartly folding it and laying it over the back of a chair. He then unlaced the loose shirt and slipped it off, leaving only the sleeveless undershirt he knew would cling tightly to every toned muscle once he broke a sweat.

Smirking once again at the ever-so-faint, but detectable, heat in her cheeks, he said, "I'm ready."

✦✦✦

Gods, she was glorious. Every bit as graceful and smooth as when they had danced at the Solstice party, but this was—better. She fought with all the furious instincts of a hellcat, if a hellcat had the discipline and cunning of a trained military leader.

Where Nesta was ferocious and predatory, Eris relied on his ethereal speed, managing to predict and parry several of her more creative maneuvers, which only made her push harder. They were almost well matched, though he did not hold back and ultimately landed a few more blows on her than she did on him. It was to be expected, as she said she had only been training a few months, but...in a few more months, in the years and centuries she had ahead to hone her skill, she would easily become an unholy terror. And that was not even considering her simmering, deathly magic.