“Listen to yourself,” she said. “Who says ‘tsk tsk’ in the 19th century? This is a dream!”
All of Shew’s talk about dreams meant nothing to him. He kept staring at her. For a boy set on killing her, he seemed infatuated with her courage and his eager pace slowed.
“Even though the Queen of Sorrow is waiting for me to return with your heart and liver, I’m immensely enjoying this,” Loki said, circling around Shew, his hands behind his back. She could feel his eyes scanning her body, his nose sniffing her scent. “I like a girl who isn’t afraid of me,” he said. “That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to run,” he stopped right in front of her again. “If you escape me, the Queen will hang me by the noose, and you will get your freedom. What do you think about that, princess?”
Shew didn’t think it was a good idea. He knew that if she ran, he would catch her. If this was how the game was going to be played, then she thought she’d better raise the bar. People only die once. What the hell!
She decided to offer him an even bolder solution, “How about we fight?” She took some steps back, pulled Cerené’s glass sword from its scabbard, and raised it in front of her. He was too far from her to swing at him.
“A brave and crazy princess,” Loki rubbed his chin. “What more could a man ask for?” he locked eyes with her again then let out small laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” Shew demanded.
“You’re standing in an awkward position,” he raised his eyebrows.
“Stop talking and fight like a man!” She shouted. Loki approached her with two hands in the air, promising he wouldn’t attack her. “May I?” he said, offering to help straighten her position.
Shew thought it was the perfect moment to strike, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. How did she expect to fight him? She didn’t have the heart for it.
Loki positioned her legs and her arms as if he were a teacher. She, let him, helpless to his advances. When he did, another mild headache hit her. This time, she remembered Angel von Sorrow teaching her how to fight when she was a child. It was an image of them swinging swords in the castle’s garden, Angel teaching her how to ride unicorns, and training at night. She felt the knowledge Angel had given her rush back into her veins.
Loki sniffed her while positioning her. She could tell he liked her scent. She elbowed him in the rib so he’d back off a little.
“How about we fist fight in the mud instead of using swords?” Loki said playfully, walking backward, still facing her. “This way we could get to know each other better.”
“You wish, Huntsman!” Shew sneered, unable to escape his piercing look.
Foolishly, again, Shew waited for a signal to start the sword fight. What was she expecting, a blast of a horn?
Loki surprised her and made the first move. He took a swift step back, pulled out his sword, and slashed at her as if he were an elegant painter with a long brush, putting his final touch on his portrait.
Shew shrieked, eyes closed, waiting for the pain to seep through her body as she realized where he’d cut her. The wind that swooshed with the sword’s swinging almost cut through her neck, but nothing really hurt.
Eyes still closed, she heard him whistle. He was a good whistler.
Shew opened her eyes, and saw he’d only slashed at her dress, leaving her with a bare shoulder.
“I like this cut better. Gives me something to look at,” he winked with his chin up. “Now, shall we?” he took his position, parting his legs, one to the front and one to back.
In her anger, Shew swung at him without even aiming. The sword barely touched his face, and a thin drop of blood trickled down his cheek.
Loki brushed the blood from his face and gazed back at her, amused, “this is going to be fun,” he said and then…
He swung his sword at her. Shew’s reflexes weren’t bad. She swung back at him, both their swords clinking in the forest. Cerené’s glass sword was just as strong as Loki’s metal. Their movements were fast, and she remembered her father’s training. They worked their arms and legs like dancing on coal.
“You’re a jerk.” Shew attacked, forcing him to retreat.
“And what is it about jerks you like so much, princess?” Loki smirked again, swinging with care and enthusiasm. He watched her move as if watching a ballerina dancing her final swan song.
She didn’t comment. She preferred to hurt him as a response to his answer.
“Impressive for a bratty princess,” Loki considered, his eyes shining like a kid with a new toy.
Shew wondered if he wasn’t giving her his best shot, just toying with her. She knew he was a much better fighter—one of the best. She attacked him again, and he responded smoothly. Her moves became more stiffened, like that of a panther on the prowl.
This should be my chance, Shew thought. I better wound him badly and run.
Don’t chicken out this time princess.
Loki jumped backward, somersaulting in the air, showing off. He landed on his feet. “Can’t do that, can you?” he teased then swung at her instantly.
Shew swung continuously with great force. Her anger and frustration fueled her moves. Loki found himself withdrawing.
He used his somersault technique again, but not to show off this time. He had to evade her nerve. He landed on a tree branch, a couple of feet high. The branch moved like an elephant’s trunk, curving and lifting him even higher as if it were enchanted. He stood there with hands on his waist, laughing at her.
“That’s cheating,” Shew shouted, looking up.
“Sue me!” Loki said, teasing her, looking more like Robin Hood than a dark Huntsman.
“How did you do that?” Shew asked.
“Jealous?”
Shew sighed at how childish Loki seemed in this dream. Was this the Huntsman she just saw torturing children in Furry Tell, or was her personality having an impact on him?
Shew decided to replicate his move and jumped onto a tree branch nearby. Surprisingly it lifted her up to him. The trees were tangled like a huge nest over the forest.
Loki didn’t wait for her to adjust to her new elevated surroundings. He just attacked.
Shew responded, careful she wouldn’t fall.
“Show me some fangs!” he demanded.
“Are you trying to provoke me,” Shew swung back.
“No,” Loki said. “I’m trying to kill you, princess.”
“Don’t push your luck, Queen’s bastard,” Shew said, still swinging. She slashed at a lock of his beautiful hair.
“The last girl who called me that got what she deserved,” Loki took a step back and stopped. He snatched his lock of hair from mid air, looking upset. He even tucked it in his pocket, “bastard or jerk?” he gazed back at her, playfully. “Make up your mind.”
Again, Shew doubted they said ‘jerk’ in the 19th century, but out of sheer silliness, Shew snarled at him. It didn’t scare him. He got closer and swung his sword again.
“Nasty,” he said.
—clink.
“Bastard,” she swung at him.
—clink.
“Vulgar,” he swung back, both of them working their feet in the moving tree branches.
—clink.
“Arrogant,” she tried to swing harder.
—clink.
“Bratty princess,” he stopped her and pushed her back.
Shew held onto a vine and swung with it through the air, landing far from him.
Loki stood puzzled, amazed by her acrobatic endeavor. “Monkey!” he said, and grabbed another vine, following her move.
She jumped back on the ground, and Loki followed.
The swinging continued with swords clinking in the dead of the night.
Loki slashed at her dress again, baring her other shoulder.