Free Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne by Kerri Hawkins

sword-fighting on the main terrace. Ryan identified the blades as rapiers, 17th century European, not a preference of hers but solid weapons. Jason was seated on a nearby bench, avidly watching the pair. He was rarely separated from Drake, but Edward had just put the boy down for a nap so he was on his own at the moment.
    Ryan approached, watching the two combatants. They were very skilled and fought with ferocity and preternatural speed. The rapier was actually a good choice of weapon because it would flex with the force of their blows. The ting-ting-ting of the metal was accompanied by the laughter of the men watching. It made Ryan think of other times, times which seemed to belong to other worlds.
    “Hey Ryan,” Jason called out. He was obviously excited to see her. “Why don’t you show them how it’s done?”
    The men stopped, suddenly aware of her presence. Her “presence” was normally unmistakable. But Ryan was unused to the constant attention from the Others and the commotion her approach caused. She found herself creating a mental shield just to avoid the continual stares.
    She nodded to the men, who all bowed respectfully in return. She was surprised when one of the combatants called out to her. Although not a Young One, he was not particularly old either, perhaps born in the same century as his weapon.
    “I understand you are a great swordsman,” he said, “would you care to spar?”
    A much older man, both in appearance and in actual age, quickly stepped forward. “I beg your pardon, my lord.” He gave the younger man a scathing glance. “He forgets himself.”
    Ryan recognized the older man as one of Abigail’s chief consorts. She glanced at they younger man. “It is of no harm,” she said, amused, “fortune favors the brave.”
    The man sent another scathing glance to the youngster. “But not the stupid.”
    Ryan smiled. “Again, it is of no harm. Under other circumstances, I might accept, but I am not fond of the rapier.”
    Abigail’s consort bowed low. “Very well, my lord. Thank you for your understanding.”
    Ryan turned and began to walk away. The younger man raised his eyes to Ryan’s departing back. Perhaps her skill with the sword had been exaggerated.
    The thought had no sooner coalesced than the young man felt the air next to his ear part as an object passed by at tremendous speed. The object was not even a blur so great was its velocity, leaving only the instantaneous impression of something sharp and lethal. It split the crowd of men with deadly precision, flying through the air directly at Ryan’s retreating back.
    In an impossible move and seemingly without effort, Ryan shifted her head slightly to the side, allowing the sword to pass by her ear, catching it in full flight by the hilt. It was frozen, stopped cold by the casual gesture, levitating by the grasp that held it level.
    Ryan lowered the sword, her back still to the men. She glanced at the weapon’s beautiful curve, the extraordinary workmanship, the deadly sharpness of the blade, and then slowly turned around. The men were astonished, not only by the incredible maneuver, but by the smile that played about Ryan’s lips.
    “Is this a challenge?” Ryan asked, amusement in her voice. The men were uncertain whom she was addressing.
    “It is a gift,” came the reply.
    The crowd of men turned, parting to reveal the One Ryan knew was standing there.
    An extraordinarily handsome Asian man stepped forward, the intensity in his gaze mirroring that of his protégé.
    Kusunoki drew his own sword. “And a challenge,” he added, his eyes gleaming.
    Ryan did not hide the fierce joy she felt at his presence. Kusunoki leaped forward, covering the distance between them in single bound. Ryan took one step back and brought her sword up to parry, and the weapons locked. The combatants stared at one another across the immobile blades, their delight in the battle evident.
    “Do not break my gift before I have had a chance to use