After lunch, the team cleared the tables and propped crumbling racks of wooden swords in each corner of the cafeteria. The fighters of Rashika's Resistance each chose a sword and lined up in front of me and Izra.

Jek danced from foot to foot and rolled his shoulders. "Izra, how do we start?"

Izra strode to the end of the line and spun around to face me, glossy ponytail swaying. "Epsa, how do we start?"

Training exercises consumed the majority of my last eight years, but I always stood in line and awaited instruction. With all eyes on me, a bout of nerves tightened my chest. I had only just cut my own strings. How could I lead others when I was still learning how to lead myself?

I drew in a shaky breath, scanning the crew watching me. Emotions ranged from nervous to scornful. Plu and Navi both hunched their shoulders and scuffed their feet, while Jek folded his arms over his chest and tipped up his chin. The fingers of my free hand instinctively closed over my thigh. Then my eyes found Izra, and my hand slipped back to my side.

One of her hips cocked, and a strand of hair brushed her face. Otherwise, she formed a perfect, sleek statue. The hopeful vulnerability in her eyes the night before had been replaced by the pragmatic trust one places in an experienced professional.

I didn't expect that from a warrior.

"Show me what you can do," I told the crowd, "And I'll show you what you need to learn."

Izra broke the group into pairs to spar. For the next half hour, swords clacked, feet shuffled, and sweaty bodies heated the cafeteria. Izra, Janafir, Jek, and the twins wielded their swords with confidence, but Plu fell into the defensive and surrendered far too easily, and even Izra, the best of the five, slipped into postures my own trainer would reprimand.

The rest of Rashika's Resistance swung wildly, gripping swords like heaving boulders.

We had work to do.

I called an end to the sparring, and the group lined up before me once more, faces flushed and chests expanding with each breath.

"I need a volunteer for a demonstration," I said. "As a fair warning, you may come away with bruises."

Eyes dropped to the ground or flitted to the side. Plu visibly gulped and jerked back one step. Jek shook his head and huffed a scoff.

Izra stepped forward to face me. "I'll do it."

I hesitated, dropping my voice quiet enough to reach only Izra. "You really want me to knock you down in front of your followers — your admirers?"

Izra lifted her sword and widened her stance. "Don't you dare go easy on me."

The rest of the group formed a circle around the room to watch us, but they faded to a blur of colors as all of my attention zeroed in on my opponent. Izra watched me with the same intense concentration, and we circled each other with slow, steady steps.

Izra increased the speed of her footwork, and so did I. She thrust the sword tip toward me in a few experimental jabs I easily parried. When she reached farther and swung harder, I redirected her sword on the parry to send her off-balance. The moment her defensive stance collapsed, I twisted my sword around for a sharp attack and then swung a foot forward to catch her closer boot.

Izra's back smacked the ground, and I flicked my blade down to touch her chest before she could move. A gasp passed around the room. I caught Izra's gaze, and for a moment, I was transported to the secluded woods where I last defeated her in a sword fight. That day, I had pinned her wrists above her head and straddled her sharp hip bones while she glared up at me in defiance. Finish this!

Like that day, her nostrils now flared with fast breaths, and sweat-damp hair clung to her glistening forehead. But her eyes met mine not in challenge but in... something else. Something I couldn't quite interpret.

I let the sword fall back to my side and offered a hand. As I pulled her to her feet brusquely, I tried to ignore the perfect fit of her warm hand in mine and forced my attention to the group surrounding us.

"I'll start by making some stance adjustments. It doesn't matter how well you can wield a sword if your fighting stance is not perfect. Fall out of position once, and the fight is done." I nodded at Izra. "Raise your sword again."

I addressed the whole group while I adjusted Izra's form, delivering advice on how to reposition elbows, shoulders, hips and feet while moving through various attacks and defenses. Izra followed each of my directions with maddening self-control, face impassive.

Meanwhile, I fought to suppress a sizzle of stubborn excitement each time I laid my hand on a new part of her body.

Goddess, the whole room watched me, and these lessons might make the difference in a matter of life or death. I could not allow desire to breach my concentration. I needed to be more like Izra — cool, calm, collected.

Then I repositioned her hand on the sword, and my fingers brushed over the silky smooth skin on the inside of her wrist...

And her pulse fluttered like the wings of a panicked bird.

I choked off mid-sentence, eyes ticking up to her face. Her own gaze averted. Embarrassed? Angry?

I disguised my confusion with a small cough and addressed the group around us once more. "Pair up again and focus on posture this time."

The fighters of Rashika's Resistance returned to sparring, and I strolled around the room to correct form and offer advice. Most of the group responded enthusiastically, especially when they noticed improvement. However, Jek still rolled his eyes whenever I attempted to help him. And Izra...

Izra refused to look at me.

She fought hard and followed my directions well, but unease festered in my gut. She had asked me to knock her down, to correct her in front of everyone, to take command of her group... hadn't she? Had I taken it too far?

When shoulders slumped and elbows dropped all around the room, I announced the end of the lesson.

"Eat and sleep well tonight. We will resume training right after breakfast."

Chatter soon filled the cafeteria, tongues loosened by fatigue and relief. I started to help Ru and Plu drag a table back into place, but Izra caught the crook of my elbow. Still avoiding my eyes, she pulled me into the hallway.

I side-glanced her as we walked, taking in the sharp profile, the tense shoulders, the smooth, unreadable mask. We reached the door, and she turned the knob and ushered me through first, a courteous formality which only increased my anxiety.

I passed the doorway and spun back toward her as she slipped in behind me. Wrestling with my own tongue, I managed fumbling words.

"Izra, I... I thought you wanted me to take the lead."

She pulled the door shut and spoke to the floor just behind me. "I did want you to... and you were incredible. Even better than I hoped."

I furrowed my brow. "Then why won't you look at me?"

A tiny breath of laughter, and then her gaze met mine, eyes smoldering like glowing charcoal. She took one slow step toward me, one foot and then the other rolling from heel to toe. Her hand skirted over my forearm up my bicep to my shoulder, leaving a hot tingle in its wake.

"Because there was something else I wanted more."

I sucked in a breath that filled my lungs with fire. How easily I could strip that tunic off over her head and fully explore that beautiful body I had touched with feigned indifference during the demonstration. Instead, I fisted my hands and swallowed.

"So it really didn't bother you that I laid you out flat in front of your team?"

A little smile teased one corner of her lips. "Bother me? It was so fucking sexy, Epsa. You're always sexy, but when you are sword fighting... gods, I wanted..."

My own lips twitched in response, and the fire in my lung spilled over the rest of my body. "You wanted what?"

She grasped the front of my tunic and yanked me toward her. Her lips brushed mine, lightly at first but quickly deepening. When I parted my lips and reciprocated, I tasted hot salt and tangy earth. Her tongue played along my teeth and tangled with mine, and hot delight shivered over my skin.

I fumbled with the edges of her tunic, and she tugged at the bottom of mine. I peeled the fabric up until her arms prohibited progress and then realized she had just encountered the same problem in stripping me.

We broke off the kiss with a unison chuckle. Lust colored her voice rich and dark. In disjointed movements, we took turns stripping the tunics over each other's heads. Two balls of discarded fabric landed softly beside the bed.

Then we faced each other again... and stilled.

For a long moment, I could do nothing but stare. Her sweaty olive skin glistened in the light. Below an elegant sweep of collarbone, round breasts rose and fell with each breath. Her waist curved gently, dipping in between her ribcage and hips.

Slowly, she lifted a few fingers toward me — still not touching, but sketching the path of her eyes like a painter. Drawing me in the air... drawing me in her mind. Then her fingers grazed my collarbone and fluttered down to brush a hardened nipple, and I sucked in a sharp breath. When she leaned down to tease the same nipple with her lips, my breath rushed out in a strangled whimper.

The moment her lips left me, I skimmed both hands up her waist and caressed her breasts, thumbs circling the rosy skin around her nipples. Her shaky exhale drew my gaze to her face. The same pink from her nipples flushed her cheeks, and she watched me with wide, unblinking eyes. I laid my palm over her left breast and felt her thumping heart.

Ignoring a throbbing protest deep in my core, I edged one step back. "Izra, are you sure you want this?"

She breathed a laugh. "Is that really a question?"

"You seem nervous."

"I am."

"You're never nervous."

"That's because I've never..." She swallowed. "You're special, Epsa."

My lips twitched in a smile, but my eyebrows drew close. "Special how?"

She played with the string of my waistband. Head dipped, she regarded me from under long eyelashes. "Can I take this off?"

Back in her tent, she had watched my fumbling exploration with poised amusement, alto voice oozing sultry confidence. Now her voice and posture emanated a sweet shyness I had come to recognize as an equally important part of her character — just one she hid from everyone.

Everyone but me.

You're special, Epsa.

"Yes," I whispered.

She drew me to the bed and placed both hands on my hips to guide me onto the mattress. Gently, carefully, she untied my waistband and slipped the trousers down over my waist. I arched my back off the bed to allow her to tug the material down my thighs, calves, and off of my feet.

Her eyes burned a path from my feet all the way to my face, and she sucked one corner of her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head. "Epsa, you're... you're a fucking goddess."

A grin overtook my lips, but I rolled my eyes. "If only. Then I would know how to defeat the King."

"You will," she said.

And the soft certainty in her voice stole mine.

She traced a few fingers over my thigh, caressed my hip, slipped over my abs toward my breasts. When her fingers grazed the edge of the bandage over my shoulder wound, her eyes darkened and shoulders tensed. Her voice remained quiet, but no longer soft — the quiet of a muffled scream.

"When I saw what Denavin did to you, that was the first time in fifteen years that I — I c-couldn't... if you hadn't stopped me, I might have actually killed her."

My smile dropped as the giddy warmth dissipated from my chest. "There was a time you wished me dead."

Her brow twitched, and a strange smile twitched across her lips. "I wanted to wish you dead. But I really wished to kiss you all over until you begged for release, until you forgot your goal and even who you were... until you said, 'Fuck the King — I only want Izra.'" Her head dipped, and pink brushed her cheekbones. "Even when your hips trapped my waist and your hands pinned my wrists, I could only marvel that I had brought you to your knees."

I lifted two fingers to her chin and tilted her face up toward mine once more. "Fuck the King. I only want Izra."

Her eyes danced between mine, and her voice grew husky. "And who are you?"

I stilled, stumbling over the question. Who was I? I lost my mother and my best friend, and I let Snuggles live. I betrayed the Royal Guard, and I now plotted to kill my former hero.

But in that moment, the reverence in Izra's gaze obliterated my confusion and self-doubt.

Who was I? I was a fucking goddess.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trailed two fingers down her neck and over her collarbone. "No names until after sex."