Chapter 210: Impressing Valemont

Elara:

This time, both my brain and body were prepared. I stepped forward instead of retreating, catching his approaching wrist with one hand while driving my other elbow toward his ribs. Reign twisted before the strike could connect, his free hand catching my upper arm as he redirected my momentum.

I used the movement to pivot, aiming a kick toward his side, but he shifted just in time, and my foot cut through empty air.

The instant I landed, I drove my palm toward his chest, hoping to force him backward and create enough distance to reassess the situation. He caught my wrist, his fingers closing around it with infuriating ease, and I used his grip against him, turning beneath his arm to attempt a throw.

For half a second, I thought I had him. Then he adjusted his footing, countered my movement, and suddenly I was the one fighting to keep my balance.

I broke free before he could exploit the opening and retreated just far enough to avoid his next strike. My lungs pulled in a sharp breath, my pulse quickening with something that was equal parts adrenaline and murderous irritation.

"You could have warned me that your idea of a morning greeting involved attempted homicide!" I snapped.

"Would you have preferred a formal invitation?" he asked, advancing again. "Perhaps a letter? Dear Argentis, please arrive at the forest behind the palace at sunrise so I may attempt to break your jaw?"

"I would have preferred you to develop a personality that doesn’t require physical violence to entertain itself!" His laughter followed me as I lunged at him again, and I hated that the sound was annoyingly attractive.

The next several minutes became a blur of movement, snow, and increasingly creative insults. Reign was infuriatingly good at physical combat. Every time I thought I had found an opening, he closed it with a speed that reminded me just how much experience stood between us.

He anticipated my kicks, deflected my strikes, and turned my attempts to catch him off guard into opportunities to counterattack. But I wasn’t some inexperienced girl either. Even when Reign managed to catch me off balance, I refused to surrender the advantage without making him work for it.

I blocked a strike aimed at my shoulder, twisted away from his attempt to trap my arm, and drove my knee upward toward his abdomen. He caught the movement with his forearm, but the impact forced him to take a step back.

My lips curved into a triumphant smile. "What’s wrong, Valemont? Starting to regret challenging me before breakfast?"

"Not particularly." He glanced down at the spot where my knee had struck his arm, then lifted his gaze toward me. "Though I am beginning to understand why Lorien has been spending so much time with you."

I barely had time to wonder whether that was a compliment before he closed the distance again.

His hand brushed my waist as he redirected my attempt to strike his shoulder, while his other hand caught my wrist and guided it away from his face. The touches were perfectly innocent in the context of combat, necessary adjustments made by someone who knew exactly where to place his hands to control another person’s movements.

Unfortunately, the fact that I was aware of that did absolutely nothing to make them less distracting. Every time his fingers grazed my side, steadied my hip, or briefly caught my arm before I could slip past him, I became painfully conscious of those familiar tingles running across my body.

He wasn’t being gentle, either. His movements remained sharp and precise, his attacks relentless enough to leave me with little opportunity to dwell on anything except survival. Yet he somehow found the time to make matters worse with his mouth.

"You are thinking too much, Trouble," he remarked as I ducked beneath his arm.

"I’m thinking about how many different ways I could make your funeral unpleasant."

"Planning my funeral already? That’s surprisingly sentimental."

I swung at his shoulder, and he blocked the strike with a grin.

"Careful. Someone might think you care."

"Someone might think you are intelligent if you keep your mouth shut for five consecutive seconds. Let’s not encourage impossible expectations."

His laughter brushed against my ear as he stepped behind me, and I immediately twisted, refusing to let him use my distraction to trap me. I drove my elbow backward, forcing him to evade, then spun around and attempted a strike toward his jaw. He leaned just beyond my reach and my knuckles missed his handsome face by an infuriatingly small distance.

"So close," he murmured. "Were you aiming for my face, or have you finally decided to touch something you like?"

I nearly choked on my own breath. "I was aiming to rearrange your teeth!"

I attacked again before he could make another comment, and this time I managed to force him backward across the snowy ground. I used every opening I could find, chaining together strikes and evasive movements, refusing to give him the chance to settle into the rhythm he preferred.

He was stronger, faster, and considerably more experienced, but I was stubborn enough to make up for at least some of those disadvantages.

I caught his wrist, twisted away from his grip, and landed a quick strike against his shoulder before he could block it. His eyebrows rose, and I felt an absurd burst of satisfaction.

"There," I announced breathlessly. "Proof that you can be hit."

Reign rubbed his shoulder with exaggerated consideration. "I’ll have to remember that when I’m writing my will."

"Make sure you leave me something valuable."

"My entire fortune, perhaps?" He suggested.

"I’d still prefer your silence. It would be worth considerably more."

His smile turned almost wicked. "You could have both, Trouble. All you would have to do is ask nicely."

I rolled my eyes and went for another strike, but he caught my arm, turned with my momentum, and brought us close enough that I could see the amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

For one dangerous heartbeat, I forgot the snowy forest, the physical challenge, and the fact that this man had nearly punched me unconscious less than ten minutes ago. Then he shifted his grip, and I remembered exactly why I should never allow myself to become distracted around Reign Valemont.

I broke away, putting distance between us before he could exploit my momentary lapse. His gaze followed me, and the knowing curve of his lips told me he had noticed every second of it.

We continued until my muscles began to burn and my breathing grew heavier, though I refused to let either show more than necessary. I was determined to land at least one clean strike on his face before this absurd exercise ended.

Unfortunately, Reign seemed determined to preserve his annoyingly perfect features at all costs. Every attempt came close enough to be frustrating but never close enough to satisfy me. Eventually, he stepped back, raising his hands slightly as though he had finally decided to grant me a moment of peace.

"I’m impressed," he said, and the unexpected sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. "You have improved considerably since the last time I saw you fight."