Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

You Want Me Bad

"So then. I assume you already know all the basics. But for the sake of doing this properly, walk me through it anyway. Let's test your knowledge."

Evan's words, echoing back to me now. From my place in the centre of the empty ballroom, I watched as he slowly strode the length of the wall, flinging back the massive curtains as he went. In doing so, he revealed a breathtaking full wall of windows overlooking the eastern side of the estate.

He'd woken up in seemingly much better spirits than those with which he'd left Reggie and I last night. And that headache, which he steadfastly denied having, appeared to be gone completely. Though I did notice that he'd slept in quite a bit later than was his habit, presumably residual exhaustion from whatever it was he'd been up to yesterday at Malfoy Manor.

With Reggie gone for the day, Evan and I intended to make good on our promise to practise my duelling. He'd opened up one of the closed wings of his home just for the occasion, the two of us enjoying a quiet breakfast then walking in silence through a series of long gilded halls before finally coming to a stop in front of a set of massive, elaborately carved white and gold doors.

"The main ballroom."

That was all he said by way of introduction as he flung open the double doors and stepped back, gesturing for me to enter.

As I stepped past him and forward, I could feel the wooden floorboards creak beneath me, as if this part of the home was alive and protesting against having been disturbed, awoken, after so long a slumber. An old space, and gorgeous - beyond gorgeous, to speak truly. No furniture, nothing other than the windows, bright white and gold walls, and a huge, vaulted ceiling above us.

Turning my attention from the ceiling back to Evan, I watched as he continued along the long wall of windows. My hands clasped behind my back, I called back to him, the acoustics of the empty space causing our voices to echo off the walls, "Well, at its most basic, there's basically three schools, three styles of duelling. People usually display an innate preference for one of the three."

Turning to face me, his expression one of complete seriousness, Evan nodded, "And those three styles being?"

"Aggressive, defensive, and tactical."

"Another word often used for the tactical style?"

"Stealthy."

"Strategic," he corrected sternly.

Crossing my arms at this, I huffed at being corrected, "Aren't they all strategic? Duelling is strategic."

"Certainly. But that one far more so. It's the primary focus of the style."

Seems like you're splitting hairs, Mr. Rosier.

"Fine. Very well. I meant to say strategic. Aggressive, defensive, and strategic."

Walking slowly towards me now, he fixed his eyes on mine intently, "Very good. Remember that. And now tell me: how do they each interact with one another?"

Nodding, I considered my response carefully, "Each has its own unique advantages and disadvantages over the other two."

"Elaborate."

He's being so serious today ...

And so critical!

I'm not used to this.

This is flashes of old Evan.

Holding his gaze as he neared me now, I began to rattle off the little I knew of formal duelling theory, "... Aggressive styles are often said to be advantageous against strategic, especially in the early stages of battle."