She aimed a kick at his chest – a step backwards had her stumbling and off-balance. He struck – to be met with her blade. Again. Again. Again.
Backward.
Forward.
Each parrying the other's blade.
Each attacking, but ready to be defensive.
Testing each other out, almost as though there was something to prove.
Suddenly, she slid back, and he saw his opening. His sword shot out to rest at the base of her throat – And then he felt himself falling. As he went to get up, steel pressed against the nape of his neck.
"Sloppy, Ironarm."
The pressure was lifted. Liam Ironarm got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Unfair," he grumbled. "I was just about to win."
His attacker let out a short laugh, sheathing her curved sword, which was as exotic and interesting to Liam as its owner. "And that's precisely why I won. My move came first."
He swung her to face him, his eyes searching her face. Her gaze met his, frank and open. That was one of the things he liked – loved? – about her. Her ability to be honest with him. He had seen those eyes when she was confronted, and it was like something slammed shut behind them to protect her secrets. Secrets that he didn't know, but he could if he asked, that much was clear.
He often considered Kylaia to be beautiful, even taking into account the battle scars that marked even the best Shang warriors. Hers showed an adventurous spirit, somebody who wasn't willing to just let things be. Somebody who was willing to take action. Others thought the same way about her, he knew. And again he wondered if he should put limits on their open relationship, to make her his, and, he supposed, to make him hers.
She tugged herself free, drinking deeply from the water-skin strapped to her waist. Liam smiled thinly. The Shang Unicorn would never let herself be caught. Besides, he knew better than to commit himself to somebody. Distractions were unwelcome, and there were also the dangers every Shang fighter faced. He shuddered slightly. Kylaia noticed and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, come now, I won fair and square, no need to be disgusted that a girl beat you."
"You cheated," he retorted. "I'd have beaten you if you hadn't kicked my legs from under me."
She rolled her dark eyes. "That's precisely why I won," she replied. "You–" Here, she prodded him in the chest – "thought you were winning, and it distracted you. I didn't lose focus for a second, not even when you tore through my sleeve – again. Honestly, I'm sure you aim for these."
"They are rather hard to miss," Liam pointed out dryly, sitting down and taking a swig from his own water-skin.
Kylaia was busy fussing over her slashed sleeve. She let out a sigh and moved to sit down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her. "Sometimes I think needlework would have been more useful to learn than fighting. I certainly seem to need it more."
He chuckled. "I like you right where you are."
"Me too," she murmured, pressing her lips against his.
"Liam, there's a Doi at the inn," she whispered, looking excited.
He didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. "Good."
"A fortune-teller one. And they've offered to do us." She knew pleading filled her eyes, and she hated herself for it. "Please, Liam, it's offensive to refuse. And – and I know it's magic, but I don't want to do it alone."
He looked at her, eyes unreadable. She knew he hated magic – part of her wanted to know why, when nothing else seemed to shake him.
"Fine."
She smiled at him, though he refused to return the favour, and took his hand, leading him over to the Doi's table. The woman was most likely a fake anyway, but she wanted reassurance.
The wizened old woman nodded. "Sit, child, I cannot read your hand from there."
Kylaia sat, obediently. She held out both of her hands, unsure which would help. The old woman peered at both of them, then chose the right one.
"You may not like the path you have to walk, but you must walk it without fear." The Doi raised her eyes to Kylaia's, capturing them. Kylaia shivered. Not a fake. Curse it. "And you must walk it alone, for the most part."
Kylaia swallowed tightly, withdrawing her hand. She didn't like all she had heard and was reluctant to trust it. As she stood, Liam took her place, looking wooden.
The Doi took his hand, a smile forming over her cracked lips. "Interesting. You will be forced to confront your fears in ways you could never imagine. You, I think, will enjoy your life." She released his hand. "And you will know when the Black God is ready to welcome you into his realm."
The Dragon got to his feet, his face shadowed.
Death. Death and being alone. She'd known the Shang way of life wasn't easy, but her head still reeled. Then her mouth firmed. She would cope. The Shang were born and bred to be alone.
"Remember, both of you. Fortune favours those who seek it without reservations."
Kylaia tried to smile as they moved away from the table. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He cleared his throat. "No." He shook himself, losing the dazed look from his eyes. "Not at all."
As he pulled her close for a kiss, Kylaia couldn't help remembering her destiny.
To be alone.