Page 103 of Come the Morning

“It’s difficult to tell sometimes if danger isn’t living within the same walls,” she countered quickly, and equally as pointedly.

“But you must always have a protector!” Brett, one of her own young men, a MacKinny, and kin to Ewan, called to her. “My lady, it is a simple question of size!”

“Size is not so simple a matter,” she said, and nudging Dabney, she circled around Ewan.

“Give me your shield, Ewan.”

“Mellyora, no.”

“Ewan, please—now!”

He did as she commanded, and she reached for the lance he’d been about to use in the next training exercise. He resisted, but then released the long lance.

“Your husband will spear me with this thing!” Ewan whispered.

She cast him a withering glance and rode on by him, looking quickly to ascertain that the tournament weapon, used here today to practice aim, was blunted. She turned Dabney quickly, challenging Brett. “Come, let’s see how size affects the outcome of a joust.”

“Nay, lady, I could not—” Brett protested.

“Then, sir, I have the advantage, for you will not defend yourself against me!”

“Mellyora!” Waryk warned, but she ignored him.

The other men had cleared away, and she had taken the requisite distance between the two of them, then spurred her horse onward. Dabney was expert, and fearless. Brett’s mount betrayed his rider at the moment of impact, and though Mellyora was severely jolted, she held her seat while Brett was unhorsed.

There were cheers for her, and shouts in defense of Brett. “Ah, lady, now, Brett is a gentle fellow and would not take aim at your fair form!” cried Angus.

“Then he’d best take care to guard himself!” she said firmly. Dismounting, she dropped her lance, and seized a sword from the arsenal of weapons brought to the field. Shield in her left hand, taut to her body, she strode determinedly toward Brett, her eyes pinned on his with steely purpose. Waryk, she was certain, was an excellent trainer of men, but he had not had enough time yet to teach young Brett the finer rudiments of swordplay. “Today, sir, I will help with Laird Lion’s lesson.” Brett lost his sword after her fourth swing. He fell to a knee, bringing his shield up to deflect her final blow. “Milady—” he began, but as he spoke, she swung around, aware that Waryk had come behind her. She had expected him.

“Another lesson,” he said firmly, eyes furiously on hers. “There is seldom just one opponent on a battlefield. Just when you might feel that you’ve triumphed, there will be another man ready to skewer you through!”

“Well, then, that is life, isn’t it? It seems that there is, indeed, always another man ready to skewer you through! All the more reason to be ever on the defensive, and never underestimate your opponent.

“Aye, lady, don’t underestimate,” he warned softly.

“And don’t take me for a fool!” she returned.

She swung at him hard in anger, and realized that he had planned on her doing exactly that. He came back at her with a staggering series of blows, so that she was forced down as Brett had been, raising her shield to deflect his blade. But when he would have brought his claymore down with such force that her blade would be torn away, she suddenly rose, swinging with her shield, and left him slamming his claymore with full force into the ground. She quickly flew back at him, ready to strike, buthe drew his blade from the ground just before she brought her sword against him, and she struck his steel with a shattering force. Stumbling to recover, she retreated to regroup, ignoring the fierce pain in her shoulder from fighting to hold the blade.

He came after her. Grimly. She moved behind Dabney; he followed. She backed away, watching for his least movement. She stepped backwards upon a rock, and missed her footing. She wasn’t hurt, but she cried out as she fell.

“Milady—”

He lowered his sword, reaching for her.

She swung her sword to his throat. He held still, eyes flashing, staring down at her. “Treacherous witch,” he said softly.

“Use any edge,” she retorted.

“Any edge.” He caught hold of her sword, heedless that he cut his hand, and wrenched the blade from her. The weapon flew across the field.

“There, lady. Advantage taken.”

“You were already a dead man, had I chosen.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I no longer hold a blade.”