Morrigan's Cross (Circle Trilogy 1)

Moira narrowed her eyes. “I may be sorry I lashed at you, but I’m not going to let you cut me.”

“No, it’s an expression. It means…” And every other term Blair could think of would be just as confusing. Instead she curled her arm, flexed her biceps.

“Ah.” A smile glimmered in Moira’s eyes. “Sure I’d like that. All right then, you can cut me.”

They worked a full morning. When Blair paused to gulp water from a bottle she nodded at Glenna. “You’re coming right along. Ballet lessons?”

“Eight years. Never thought I’d pirouette with a battle-ax, but life’s full of surprises.”

“Can you do a triple?”

“Not so far.”

“Look.” Still holding the bottle, Blair whipped her body around three times then shot her leg out to the side, up at a forty-five-degree angle. “That kind of momentum puts a good solid punch in a kick. You need solid to knock one of these things back. Practice. You’ve got it in you. So.” She took another swig. “Where’s the groom?”

“Hoyt? In the tower. There are things that need to be done. As important as what we’re doing here, Blair,” she added when she sensed disapproval.

“Maybe. Okay, maybe. If you come up with more stuff like the fire dagger.”

“We’ve fire charmed a number of the weapons.” She walked to another section of the room, took down a sword to bring it back. “Those that are charmed we’ve marked. See?”

On the blade near the hilt was a flame, etched into steel.

“Nice. Really. Can I try it?”

“Better take it outside.”

“Good point. Okay, we should break for an hour anyway. Grab something to eat. Cross- and longbows, boys and girls, after lunch.”

“I’ll come with you,” Glenna told her. “In case.”

Blair used the terrace doors, jogged down to ground level. She glanced at the straw dummy Larkin had hung from a post. You had to give it to the guy, she mused. He had a sense of humor. He’d drawn fangs on the stuffed face and a bright red heart on the chest.

It would be fun to test the fire sword out on it—and a waste of good material. No point burning up Vampire Dummy.

So she began in a fighting stance, her arm arched behind her head, the sword pointing out.

“It’s important to control it,” Glenna began. “To pull the fire when you need it. If you’re just slapping the burning sword around, you could burn yourself, or one of us.”

“Don’t worry.”

Glenna started to speak again, then shrugged. There was nothing and no one to hurt but the air.

Then she watched as Blair began to move, slowly, fluid as water, the sword like an extension of her arm. Yes, a kind of ballet, she thought, a lethal one. But

nonetheless compelling. The blade shimmered when the sun struck its edge, but remained cool. Just as Glenna began to assume Blair needed coaching on how to use it, the woman thrust out, and the blade erupted.

“And you’re toast. God, I love this thing. Will you make me one, out of one of my personal weapons?”

“Absolutely.” Glenna lifted her brows as Blair swished the sword through the air and the fire died. “You learn fast.”

“Yeah, I do.” She frowned, scanning the sky. “Clouds boiling up in the west. Guess we’re in for more rain.”

“Good thing I planned an indoor wedding.”

“Good thing. Let’s go eat.”

Hoyt didn’t come down until late afternoon, and by that time Glenna had given herself permission to take time for herself. She didn’t want to do a quick glamour to look her best. She wanted to pamper herself, just a bit.