kills the other,” she almost bit her tongue. The last words were agonizing. She shouldn’t have told him that.
“Now that’s interesting,” he puffed air at his nails. “Would you want to have the privilege of trying to kill me first?”
“Argh,” Shew thought. It was useless conversing with him, “you are not you who you think you are. Are you even listening to me?”
“Here is my advice to you, Princess of Sorrow,” he gazed back at her. “You’re much more fun when you’re silent. Now how do you prefer to die?”
Slowly, Loki walked closer to her. He stopped midway, his eyes scanning her face. For a moment, she thought he remembered her, or at least sensed something was wrong. Then his stare intensified again, and sent a chill through her spine. It was almost as scary as the Queen’s eyes when she got angry.
Shew didn’t know what to do. She had no Rapunzel plants and no magic. Had she tried to run away, he’d have caught her. She’d seen him killing in Furry Tell. He was fast and merciless.
“What are you looking at?” She sneered at him, pretending she wasn’t afraid. She made sure she straightened her back and held her chin up.
“It’s a shame I have to put such a beauty to sleep,” he said, rubbing the tip of his sword gently on her face. It didn’t sound as sincere as she’d hoped. Shew pushed his sword away and he did not resist.
The situation drove Shew crazy. Looking at him weakened her. She would have preferred an ugly enemy she could just kill without thinking. Loki’s charm was disarming.
Loki kept approaching slowly. Like the Queen, he took his time with his prey. He knew he’d win in the end.
In her defense, Shew took a huge chance. She walked over to him and slapped him on the face, “behave when you talk to me. I am your princess,” she said lamely, trying to pose like her mother. “Kneel before me, Huntsman.”
Loki took the slap then wiped it off his cheek as if it were a spit. He gazed back at her, admiration sparkling in his eyes, “Tsk Tsk,” he wiggled his forefinger, staring at her lips. “Not a smart move.”
“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
She decided to offer him an even bolder solution, “How about we fight?” She took some steps back, pulled Cerene’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. Cerene’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.
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.
