Something else drew her attention, and she tugged him after her. Ahead of them, the crowd broke apart, surging toward them. Briana staggered backward, knocking into him. He caught her waist, her body leaning into his chest.
She laughed at the crowd and smiled at him over her shoulder.
Hypnotic. The effect she had on him—each glance more piercing, each touch more penetrating—confused as much as it enthralled him.
If she noticed he held onto her longer than necessary, she gave no indication, plunging back into the boisterous crowd and dragging him along with her. She changed direction mid-stride, leading him toward those gathered around two men in the midst of fighting one another.
Arthur wouldn’t be happy, Lucan thought, then recognized the two men battling with wooden swords. He watched Briana from the corner of his eyes, noting the second she realized who they were.
“Arthur?” she whispered under her breath, eyes wide.
Nodding, he maneuvered her closer.
Dirt-covered and grinning like the troublemaker he’d been in his past, Arthur kept his guard up, his movements slower, but more precise than the man opposite him. Constantine’s expression was far more serious, proving his reputation for smiling about as often as he lost a fight.
Their swords clashed as the two men grappled for the advantage, dodging blows and knowing when to get out of each other’s way. The size of their mock arena widened, more people venturing close to watch the match.
Arthur blocked a low strike, spinning in preparation of Constantine’s counter-move. One step ahead, the king knocked his heir backward. A knowing slash of lips broke the stoic mold on Constantine’s face.
Few men had been in a position to accept the responsibility of wielding Excalibur should anything happen to Arthur, and on more than one occasion Constantine had proven the most suited for the role. Had Arthur gotten around to marrying, as his people routinely encouraged, a blood-bound heir wouldn’t have been necessary.
Constantine lunged forward, nailing Arthur in the side. The momentum knocked Arthur off his feet.
The cheering crowd went silent.
“Will he be punished?”
Arthur laughed before Lucan had time to answer Briana’s question. Their king held up a hand, gripping Constantine’s forearm as the knight helped him to his feet. Those gathered surrounded the men, many talking at once.
Briana turned away, her gaze wistful.
“Your brothers are right, you know. The Guard is no place—”
“For a female,” she finished, not sounding convinced. “Women are just as capable.”
He rounded the closest tent, looking to make sure she followed before leaving his own sword and grabbing two wooden ones from the pile on the ground. When they were closer to the forest, he tossed one of the training weapons to her.
She surprised him by catching it, though her hand clenched uncertainly around the hilt.
He gestured to the tip of the sword. “You want to try to hit me with the pointy end.”
And just that quickly her mood shifted, challenge brightening her eyes. “I appreciate the clarification.”
Lucan circled her. “Being part of the Guard is more than just being capable. Your instinct needs to be honed as sharply as the blade on a real sword. You must be able to read your opponent’s eyes.”
He struck, but she blocked him, fumbling her sword in the process. By the time she recovered, he’d circled behind her.
“And you never want them to get too close.”
She spun around, her sword coming up in time to brush his throat. “Perhaps you should keep your distance then.”
How was it possible to be so impressed and aroused at the same time? With every swing of her weapon, she grinned wider, her steps increasingly bolder. While she failed to get so close again, she was surprisingly adept at blocking many of his attempts to knock the weapon out of her hand.
When he finally succeeded, between bouts of laughter that had drawn a small crowd of their own, she dove for the lost blade, reclaiming it with her wrong hand. Intent on taking advantage, he moved in to relieve her of the weapon entirely.
With a growl that was dangerously animal, she blocked him again, much too efficiently.
“Cian’s trained you to use a sword with both hands.”
She offered a secretive smile, her fingers flexing comfortably around the grip. “What are my eyes telling you now?”
“That you may be in over your head, kitten.”
Laughing, she went on the offensive, giving him more than enough time to note a weak spot he could exploit. He slashed up and across with his blade. Briana flinched under the force of the strike, but kept hold of her sword. Needing only another second, Lucan eased back a fraction—and ended up on his ass.
Briana didn’t waste a second, her weapon poised at his throat, her cat eyes hauntingly wild. “Do you yield?”
“Bested by a woman, Luc?” Constantine moved away, probably to avoid Lucan stabbing the foot that tripped him. “Perhaps you should stick with your horse and fancy spears.” He glanced at Briana. “No one is better than our own La—”
“Perhaps she should be among the Guard, after all.” Arthur joined them, his presence seeming to indicate the mock battle was over and sending the onlookers off in search of more entertainment.
“Forgive me for not curtsying, your highness.” She didn’t take her eyes off Lucan. “I don’t trust your knight not to retaliate.”
Arthur frowned. “Against a woman?”
“It’s not the retaliation I fear.” Her lips twitched. “But embarrassing him further.”
The rough and rich sound of Arthur’s laughter rent the air as he bent, offering an arm to help Lucan up. “Your family is no doubt proud of having another warrior in the family, Lady Briana. Your brothers often brag about their talented baby sister.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I assure you, I am no child.”
“As Lucan can attest to.” Although Constantine’s lips were pressed into a flat line, Lucan knew the bastard wanted to laugh.
Her cheeks flushed. “I should go.”
Arthur touched her arm, his eyes as perceptive as ever. “Your brothers won’t hear of this if that is your wish,” he reassured her. “Though personally, I think you should claim responsibility. It’s a rare occasion that finds my friend at anyone’s mercy.” He nodded at Lucan.
“Very rare,” Constantine added, drawing a real sword from the scabbard he carried. “Although once they see this, more than just your brothers will have questions.” He offered her the weapon.
Briana’s mouth nearly fell open. “The Blade of the Black Heart?” Her fingers traced the dark etchings that ran the length of the sword.
Constantine nodded. “It’s yours.”
She jerked her hand back as though she’d been burned. “I can’t accept it. You need it to fight Morgana—”
“Any sword will do to slay the sorceress should I ever get close enough.” He shot a sidelong glance at Arthur, whose shoulders tensed at the mention of his half-sister.
“It would be an insult to reject such a gift,” Arthur said.
Not waiting for an answer, Constantine closed her fingers over the hilt.
Possessiveness, hot and sharp, snapped through Lucan. Having absolutely no claim on her or even the freedom to make one, he clenched his jaw and remained quiet. Arthur studied him, something unreadable passing in his oldest friend’s eyes, then he fixed his attention on Briana.
“My knight may think more carefully about approaching you now.”
Uncertain, Briana’s gaze sought Lucan’s, and he nodded, encouraging her to take it. The only thing fiercer than the weapon known for cutting a deadly path through the battlefield was the woman in front of him, yearning to be a warrior like her brothers.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she tested the weight of the blade, turning from Lucan to talk with Arthur, who ushered her ahead of him.