The Princess and the Pawn (A Raven and Dove Prequel) by Kaitlyn Davis

Author:Kaitlyn Davis [Davis, Kaitlyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kaitlyn Davis

4

Rafe

A blade cut toward his neck and Rafe ducked, tucking his wings close as he spun on his knees before swiping his sword at Helen's feet. She jumped, narrowly missing the attack, then slammed her weapon down. Rafe crossed his twin blades above his head to catch the blow before it sliced his scalp in two. Using his extra weight to his advantage, he pushed hard and she stumbled back. It didn't take her long to find her footing—there was a reason she was the master of the guards. Rafe hardly had time to stand before she came barreling back, flapping her wings to lift snow and dust into his eyes as she went for his torso. Rafe deflected the attack with one sword, then spun, anticipating her path. When she turned, his other blade was at her throat.

"Yield."

"Well done, Rafe." Helen grinned, eyes wild from the fight, as alive as he ever saw them. "But can you best me with only one blade?"

He glanced at the twin swords in his hands—his weapons of choice—then dropped one into the snow by his feet. The guards circled around them murmured, whispering to each other, likely placing bets. It was one of those rare moments when he felt as though he belonged—on the practice field, surrounded by soldiers, muscles firing, skin warm, heart thumping loud enough to drown out the doubts. Normally, he practiced by himself or sometimes alone with Helen, one-on-one. The other guards didn't care to watch, as though just looking at him, just acknowledging him, would embroil them in whatever devious plans they assumed he spun.

A tickle lifted the hairs at the back of his neck.

Again, he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why were they acting differently? Why were they looking at him as though they knew something he didn't? Why were they sizing him up and assessing his skill? Why were there calculations in their eyes? Most of all, why did he see the smallest glint of hope there too?

"Ready?" Helen called, lifting her blade.

He nodded. "Ready."

She acted swiftly, charging across the space with her weapon held high. Rafe caught the edge of her blade easily—too easily. He realized a moment too late the attack was feigned as she spun under the weapon to elbow him in the gut hard enough he stumbled back. Helen sliced in a wide arc. He caught the sword on his forearm, using the metal sewn into his jacket as a shield, and pumped his wings, lifting into the sky. With his strength, he could land harder blows from the air than she, without the ground to anchor her movements. When their blades met, she strained to match his force, beating her wings rapidly to keep from falling back. Rafe stored that bit of information as he met her swing for swing, waiting for an opening. Fights were the only times when he knew how to be patient—how to wait for that perfect moment to strike.

Now!

He was a few feet above Helen with his sword lifted overhead, gripped tightly with both hands.

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