wooden floor. Torches lit the training hall, the smoke dispersing through a circular opening in the ceiling so as not to impair the warriors’ breathing.
Warriors fought inside the rings surrounded by cheering, shouting onlookers while others practiced sparring or hand fighting in the empty floor space.
Sun handed her sword and sheath to Sefu who motioned for them to join the others.
She and Mica stood against one of the walls, watching for several moments before he slipped off his robe and hung it on a hook next to dozens of others. Beneath he wore
blue cotton trousers and a vest. Sun stared at him from the corner of her eye once again, admiring his physique. She imagined cuddling naked with him later that night. He bound his long, black hair at his nape with a strip of leather and extended his arm toward one of the rings. “Shall we, Dame Sun?”
She tossed him a smile then approached a ring where a tall woman with black hair braided down her back fought with a shorter, thicker man. Sun noted the woman’s skill surpassed her opponent’s. Within seconds she struck him in the abdomen then the face.
He lunged at her, his fist aimed at her nose. The woman dodged the blow and spun to the floor, using her leg to knock the man to the straw mat covering the inside of the ring. Snarling, the man hopped out of the ring while the woman shook her fist above her head to the sound of cheering.
“They fight for points?” Sun asked.
“Yes. That’s usually how it’s done here. Occasionally more dangerous matches are allowed but only in special cases. This is a training hall—where we have a few harmless bets every now and then.”
“Harmless bets, eh?”
“Would you like to practice with staves?” He removed two staves from the wall and tossed one to her. They spent the next few moments stretching their limbs and warming up with some staff exercises, spinning and striking, before they found an empty space to practice.
Sun’s gaze fixed on Mica as they circled each other. She attacked first. He used his staff to block her blows and execute his attacks. Within moments Sun knew he was exceptionally talented with the weapon. They fought until he backed her to the wall, the tip of his staff pressed to the hollow of her throat.
He released her and said, “You’re very skilled.”
“I’m better with a sword.”
“Then I’ll refrain from challenging you.”
“If you’re as talented with a sword as you are with a staff it would be an interesting match—although I can think of other ways I’d rather fight you.” She offered him a seductive smile.
“Dame Sun.” He stepped closer, his lips parted and desire gleaming in his eyes.
Her attention drifted to one of the rings where the same dark-haired woman now fought a tall redhead. Both women seemed equally skilled, their punches and kicks forceful and precise. A crowd had gathered around them.
She turned to Mica. “Do you mind if I get a closer look?”
“Enjoy yourself.” He took her staff and she walked toward the ring.
Mica returned the weapons to the wall before following Sun. He allowed himself a lingering look at her shapely buttocks in the brown cotton trousers. Her body tempted him to beg for favors he’d long intended to give up for religion—favors that for the past
few years he’d been unable to appreciate because of circumstances he refused to think about. Not when he was having the most perfect evening of his life. Still her change of heart confused him. This evening she seemed to enjoy his company. In the shrine he felt sure if the women hadn’t walked in she’d have made love with him right then and there. Sun was a complex woman. Was it reasonable to believe she had finally realized the senselessness of blaming him for his father’s crimes?
Of course not. Mica wasn’t an inexperienced idiot. A few kisses and a pleasant evening couldn’t instantly wipe out her deep hatred but it might be a start. She wouldn’t be in Ademene
Warriors fought inside the rings surrounded by cheering, shouting onlookers while others practiced sparring or hand fighting in the empty floor space.
Sun handed her sword and sheath to Sefu who motioned for them to join the others.
She and Mica stood against one of the walls, watching for several moments before he slipped off his robe and hung it on a hook next to dozens of others. Beneath he wore
blue cotton trousers and a vest. Sun stared at him from the corner of her eye once again, admiring his physique. She imagined cuddling naked with him later that night. He bound his long, black hair at his nape with a strip of leather and extended his arm toward one of the rings. “Shall we, Dame Sun?”
She tossed him a smile then approached a ring where a tall woman with black hair braided down her back fought with a shorter, thicker man. Sun noted the woman’s skill surpassed her opponent’s. Within seconds she struck him in the abdomen then the face.
He lunged at her, his fist aimed at her nose. The woman dodged the blow and spun to the floor, using her leg to knock the man to the straw mat covering the inside of the ring. Snarling, the man hopped out of the ring while the woman shook her fist above her head to the sound of cheering.
“They fight for points?” Sun asked.
“Yes. That’s usually how it’s done here. Occasionally more dangerous matches are allowed but only in special cases. This is a training hall—where we have a few harmless bets every now and then.”
“Harmless bets, eh?”
“Would you like to practice with staves?” He removed two staves from the wall and tossed one to her. They spent the next few moments stretching their limbs and warming up with some staff exercises, spinning and striking, before they found an empty space to practice.
Sun’s gaze fixed on Mica as they circled each other. She attacked first. He used his staff to block her blows and execute his attacks. Within moments Sun knew he was exceptionally talented with the weapon. They fought until he backed her to the wall, the tip of his staff pressed to the hollow of her throat.
He released her and said, “You’re very skilled.”
“I’m better with a sword.”
“Then I’ll refrain from challenging you.”
“If you’re as talented with a sword as you are with a staff it would be an interesting match—although I can think of other ways I’d rather fight you.” She offered him a seductive smile.
“Dame Sun.” He stepped closer, his lips parted and desire gleaming in his eyes.
Her attention drifted to one of the rings where the same dark-haired woman now fought a tall redhead. Both women seemed equally skilled, their punches and kicks forceful and precise. A crowd had gathered around them.
She turned to Mica. “Do you mind if I get a closer look?”
“Enjoy yourself.” He took her staff and she walked toward the ring.
Mica returned the weapons to the wall before following Sun. He allowed himself a lingering look at her shapely buttocks in the brown cotton trousers. Her body tempted him to beg for favors he’d long intended to give up for religion—favors that for the past
few years he’d been unable to appreciate because of circumstances he refused to think about. Not when he was having the most perfect evening of his life. Still her change of heart confused him. This evening she seemed to enjoy his company. In the shrine he felt sure if the women hadn’t walked in she’d have made love with him right then and there. Sun was a complex woman. Was it reasonable to believe she had finally realized the senselessness of blaming him for his father’s crimes?
Of course not. Mica wasn’t an inexperienced idiot. A few kisses and a pleasant evening couldn’t instantly wipe out her deep hatred but it might be a start. She wouldn’t be in Ademene
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