“Would you like to try your swords out after you’ve had a chance to warm up?”

She looked up and raised one eyebrow. “Are you asking me to spar, Lord Damien?” The joy inside of her spilled out across her face and words.

He seemed taken aback for a moment by her playfulness before he returned her look with a grin. “I am. I’ve seen you practice against dummies and highwaymen. I would love to test your skills against my own.”

His smile made her heart do a weird flip inside her chest. Selene turned around and headed for the closest dummy as her face heated up. “I would like that,” she said without looking back and began her drills on the straw-stuffed canvas.

The familiar rhythm came back to her, the flow between her body and her blades. Her muscles had grown soft over the weeks, but they would be strong again soon. She hit the dummy with consecutive moves, each hit emitting a muffled sound.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Damien warming up nearby. But instead of using a practice dummy, he first stretched out his body, then went through a couple of motions with his own sword in the middle of the room. Her heart did that weird flip again. His physique, while not necessarily muscular, was certainly athletic. His moves were controlled, smooth, and potent—not wild with brute power.

Selene went back to her warm-up and wondered if Damien’s fighting style would be similar to Amara’s one-sword technique or different. Her lips quirked to the side. She was looking forward to this.

“Ready?” Damien asked ten minutes later.

Selene turned around, sweat beginning to form along her skin. “Yes.” She joined him in the middle of the training room and raised her right hand and longer blade and held it above her head while she staggered her feet, the majority of her weight along the back leg. Her left hand, holding the shorter blade, was held out in front of her.

Damien gripped his sword between his hands and held it between them, point up, his feet apart and knees slightly bent. “Ready?”

Selene nodded. “Ready.”

She blocked Damien’s first move with her shorter blade, then brought her longer blade around. He caught it with the side of his sword, pushed her blade away, and went for the opening. She blocked again.

The strength of her style was in her dexterity while Damien’s power came from strength itself. She danced and weaved around him, moving in when she could, bouncing back and blocking when he went for an opening.

He was strong. Stronger than Amara. Stronger than her mother. Stronger even than the highwaymen.

Selene sucked in another lungful of air. Heat radiated off of her body like a warming brick. She blocked again, but her movement was a hair slower. Did he notice?

Damien wiped the side of his face, then brought his sword up again.

This time, Selene attacked first, charging with her shorter sword and catching his as he lifted his own up to block. She went to jab him with her right as she pushed his sword away with her left, but he pulled out of her grasp, angled up, and knocked her sword to the side.