Chapter 12.2

The fighting continued, slowly turning into a game of sorts as people began to realise he didn't need any downtime if he didn't spend time advising them. So they would silently attempt things instead. At any point, he would have four opponents trying out various techniques and moves. Any knight that suffered a serious injury, or would have without restraint, would step out. Immediately after, someone else would take their place.

Anyone that managed to get past his defences and made a significant wound, would also step out. At first, rarely anyone did. But as the fights went on, more and more triumphant grins appeared. As Eirwen looked on, she knew she should be proud, as he was. Instead she felt a pang of jealousy every time he grinned at someone else. She studied his moves while mimicking his abilities, trying to find ones she could make her own, so she could properly face him, keep his eyes solely on her.

As the fighting went on, the swordplay almost turned into a dance of continuous movement, as any time he stood still, he became an easier target. Eirwen joined the dance, tagging in and out the same way as the knights. Whenever she entered the fray, the fights would transform into three knights protecting her as she traded blows with him. When she bowed out, which became less and less frequent, four would hunt him instead.

Both of them made constant use of the Carraig and Verglas techniques, while healing any scratches received. At this point, the air shimmered around them from the heat they were giving off, with blood vaporising the very count it was drawn. She could feel the fire inside, not at risk of overtaking her, just burning. They fought as if they were spiralling around each other, constantly in motion, grins appearing on their faces as they enjoyed the fight.

The tag-in method had a small benefit, as it meant less serious injuries for the healers to take care of. Still they were all slowly exhausting themselves, just like the ambient mana levels were dropping off. But the knights were improving at a rapid pace, more and more managing to not just stab but slash Verglassed as well, and a few even working on other tricks.

She wanted to keep fighting like this forever. Ignore the aching of her body, the way her focus was becoming sharp but narrow, the fact that tomorrow would still come. Just stay in this moment. With his eyes on her, him by her side as an enemy, learning more and more, spilling his blood as he spilled hers, stuck in an eternal sword dance. She wanted him, wanted him here, where for a moment they could pretend they were still equals. 

Eirwen bashed his sword aside, but he countered with the same move. Suddenly she found herself facing him up close, without a sword in-between them. Without a thought, her head smashed forward, solidified with an iceblue Carraig shield. She could hear his nose break as he staggered back. But as she moved in to cut him, he dropped both sword and shield and went for her arm.

Before she knew it, she landed on her back, hard, knocking the air out of her. She looked up at him and saw all three knights move at him while he went for his sword, when suddenly he did somehow that grabbed their feet. An offhand swing with a shimmering Verglas extension and she could see the minor cuts on their throats, which could have been so much worse.

"Halt!" Everyone froze, long since having forgotten about Vicomtesse Pertrellan, as she explained her intervention. "These fights have clearly already greatly helped you, but we need to remember that this isn't a controlled spar. A single slip here could easily cost someone their life. As such, I have to end this now, as I can see how all of you are pushing yourself. I do have to say, I'm proud of all of you for seizing this opportunity. Now go clean up and enjoy dinner. Dismissed."

Knights with injuries left all reported to Bethan, though the first one she healed was their opponent. Seems like a broken nose was something he still preferred to have a professional take care of. Next was Eirwen, checking on her forehead and her back. She had to admit, while she could now heal wounds, her backache did profit from Bethan's help.

Now healed, Eirwen turned away to find him. She couldn't see him any more, so quickly spread her senses. Seemed like he had already retreated to the private library. To be honest, it kind of hurt how easily he had left her behind. And she still wanted to thank him, or at least that's what she told herself as excuse while she went after him, her doorguards falling in line.

He wasn't retreating the way he had the day before, but she still was worried. And she didn't want him to leave her sight right now. She arrived at the library, gesturing her doorguards to stay behind as she entered the room. He wasn't hiding, just stood there next to a table. As he looked up at her, pure hunger in his eyes, she realised why he had fled from her. A part of her wondered what the look on her own face was like.

"Eirwen." There was a soft growl in his voice, which only served to amplify her own wanting. "I really think you shouldn't have come here." She moved closer anyway, until she was in-between him and a bookcase, silent, not knowing what to say. Gods, she wanted him. How dare he try to run from her.

He leaned towards her, an arm next to her head as he closed in, his head now next to hers. "You should run." The growl in his voice betrayed his own hunger, while only serving to increase her own. She moved in an instant, seizing his wrists as her face met his. With amplified strength she easily pushed him back, trapping him against the table as their tongues swirled around each other. She could feel his conflict between resisting and giving in. But Eirwen had no such inner conflict right now.

Suddenly, pain stung her as she felt the familiar taste of iron. She pulled back in shock, her hand covering her own mouth as she looked at his, blood seeping from the tips of his mouth. He had actually bit her tongue, hard, blood still flowing out of it. He looked at her, an inferno raging in his eyes, a heavy growl in his voice. "You really should be running away now." As he pushed himself away from the table, towards her, she turned and ran out past her doorguards.

Finding Bethan was easy. Resisting the probing on how she got injured, that was harder. And once the healer figured it out, then deliberately taking her time healing Eirwen to tease her more, Eirwen found that keeping in her blush proved utterly impossible. Even the cold bath after didn't help cool down her embarrassment, nor her lust.

Hours later, as she fell asleep, she revisited the moment in her dreams. This time, she didn't hold back, nor did he stop her. She dreamt of all the things she had wanted to do to him back in that library, trying to satisfy her hunger. Only when she woke up in the middle of the night, did she realise how foolish that idea had been, only amplifying her desires. But soon that thought was overcome by a realisation.

In her dream, she had touched his skin, feeling scars that she had never seen on him before. There was no way she could have known of those, and dreams were supposed to be formed out of memories. Her blood almost froze as she connected the dots. She sent her senses over to him, finding him on his way to take a cold bath himself. Oh no. That timing...

Eirwen grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, wanting to scream into it. Why did their dreams connect, how could she possibly face him now, without both of them falling prey to the desire to re-enact their shared dream... It was a good thing the servants were returning the next day, because how could she ever face him again.

He sent her a mental grin, and an insincere apology. Of course he had realised. And of course he was now teasing her with it. She groaned from embarrassment, then withdrew her senses, desperate to fall asleep again and pretend to forget this ever happened... By the time the dawn came, she had barely rested at all.