“Elian.”
Kye’s voice gives me pause. It’s a warning not to do anything stupid or reckless, especially if it’s only to prove a point.
“Madrid,” I say, gesturing to her cutlass.
She hands it over without pause, deliberately avoiding a glance in Kye’s direction. She’s eager to see what will happen, just as the rest of my crew is. I can feel their eyes circling us, hear the quiet as their voices drift off and they stop singing to take in the sight.
“I didn’t realize you could smile,” I say as Lira studies her new blade.
“You’re going to teach me how to fight.”
It isn’t a question, any more than it’s a request. She’s demanding it, as though I haven’t so much as offered and it’s her feminine charm that’s spurred this whole thing on.
As though she has any sort of charm.
I don’t make a habit of teaching strangers my tricks, but if Lira’s going to survive among my crew, then she’s going to need to know how to carry a blade. Watching her grapple with the guard in Eidyllio was embarrassing enough, and I need her if I’m going to be able to take down the Sea Queen. Lira isn’t going to offer any of her secrets – not the intimate details of the ritual or any other nuances – until we reach the mountain peak. Which means I need her alive and able to defend herself if I’m not there. Especially when we arrive at our next destination. If Lira thinks my crew is rough around the edges, then she’s going to be in for a shock when she meets the Xaprár.
“I’m going to teach you how to survive,” I correct. “First lesson being: Don’t stand like that.”
I gesture to her feet, which are pressed closely together, knees as straight as nails. If Lira really was telling the truth about her family, then I’d expect her to know better. Warriors from Polemistés are nothing if not natural mercenaries. But then, she said her family died when she was just a child, and that could mean she was too young to be properly coached.
I adjust my position and Lira widens her stance to match. She’s like a mirror, even raising her arm to mimic the bend in my elbow.
“If I beat you, what do I win?” she asks.
“The ability to defend yourself.”
Her smile is lethal. “And if I kill you?”
“False confidence is nobody’s friend,” I school in a faultless echo of my father’s voice.
And then I attack.
Lira swoops her sword up in a high arc, blocking my first blow. She’s quick, but uncertain. Her feet are clumsy and when she sidesteps, her knees knock against each other. She doesn’t seem used to walking, let alone have the right footwork for a duel. I swing again, slower and softer than before. Our swords clink together.
I twist away and bring my sword above my head, giving Lira an opening to attack. She doesn’t hesitate. Her blade comes down on mine, hard. If she’s not going to win by skill, she’s going to do it with brute force. Never mind that I’m actually trying to teach her something. All she wants to learn is how to win.
I crouch down and sweep my foot under hers, but she jumps at the last minute and I miss. “That’s good,” I say. “How did you know I was going to do that?”
“You’re highly predictable.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop retreating, then. When I attack, it’s your job to get me on the defensive. Always switch your position so your opponent needs to be the one to get away.”
“Wars aren’t won by running,” she says.
“You can’t win a war,” I tell her. “Someone else just loses.”
Lira’s sword wavers and a look of confusion passes over her severe features. Like she expected another kind of reply from the siren-slaying prince. When she doesn’t speak, I point my sword at her, uneasy with the lingering silence. “Attack me,” I say.
She lurches forward with enough power that our blades smash against each other. The noise ricochets on long after I step away. Lira strikes again, repeatedly, and with no real purpose other than to do any kind of harm. It’s the same misguided mistake that all novices make. Attacking with no goal but death.
“Have a purpose,” I tell her, blocking another attempt.
Lira’s breath is quick and heavy. “What does that mean?”
“You have to decide what you want. What’s going to cause the most harm and how you can achieve it. You have to think before you attack.”
I press forward and Lira withdraws, then steps toward me. Her feet jabbing and dancing across the deck. It’s not exactly graceful, but it’s better. At the very least, she’s a fast learner.