"I was raised there. Most humans call me Tanis."
"Tanis, then."
He returned her smile in what he hoped was a disingenuous manner. Suddenly he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her toward him. Kitiara's eyes widened in surprise. She began falling forward, and Tanis braced for the impact of her body on his. He would flip her; she deserved it—he'd tip her over and sit on her like a big brother until she cried uncle. He relished the thought.
But Kitiara, after her initial surprise, caught herself. Obviously guessing her opponent's intent, she used her momentum against him. Her right arm still caught in Tanis's grasp, she dove over him into the beginnings of a somersault.
Tanis refused to loosen his grip on Kitiara's arm. Her somersault halted in midflip, and she landed, with an exhalation of breath, on her back.
Tanis released his hold, then rolled onto his left side and leaped to his feet. He scrambled toward the woman and lunged, his body slamming down perpendicular over hers. But she foresaw his movement and balled up a fist before her, bracing her elbow against the earth. She waited, her gaze calm.
Tanis twisted aside and took the fist high, in the gut. He lay on the ground, frozen, struggling to regain his breath as Kitiara shoved him off her, rolled gracefully to her hip, and rose to her feet. Irritably she removed her helm and examined the broken strap. She brushed fragments of slimy leaves off her legs and arms.
She raised a hand in farewell, her expression mocking. "Don't think me ungrateful, Tanthalas. Maybe the next damsel you rush to save will actually need your help."
She watched him a moment, pivoted, and stalked away. The word "weakling" drifted back to him, with a bark of laughter. As soon as her back was turned, however, the half-elf ceased his feigned collapse and rose to his feet, using techniques of stealth perfected through years of living with the forest-wise Qualinesti. He moved carefully through the damp leaves, nearly soundlessly—to a human's ears, at least. Then he dove toward Kitiara, crashing into her shoulder, clasping his arms around her waist, and entwining his leg with hers. He yanked to one side.
One moment he was locked around Kitiara, breathing her odor of sweat and a deeper, musky scent. The next second, Tanis was sailing through the air over her head, flipping like a cat struggling to land on its feet. He hit the ground with a grunt, ripping his leather shirt down the front. Kitiara glanced at his bare chest and nodded appreciatively even as she dropped into a half-crouch. Tanis matched her stance. They circled in the dark, two shadows facing each other, each waiting for an opening. Neither drew a sword.
"Tanis, you begin to annoy me," Kitiara said. Her words were laconic, but her lithe body was tense.
What a magnificent woman, Tanis found himself thinking, but his mind tallied the corpses of hobgoblins. Even as he admired Kitiara, he wondered if anyone could tame her.
"Are you so weak that you descend to attacking someone from the back?" Kitiara taunted. "Wouldn't a brave man have met me face-to-face?" She darted toward him, and the half-elf leaped backward. They resumed their slow circling. Tanis could hear her consciously slowing her breath, seeking equilibrium, finding balance. His nightvision gave him an edge in the dimness, but she didn't appear bothered by the dark. Kitiara's eyes were luminous. Tanis couldn't take his gaze from her oval face. He traded her taunt for taunt. Half-elf and woman continued to circle. Kitiara's foot twisted on a stick, but she caught herself. Her words betrayed no trace of weariness. "I must tell you, Tanis, that I am very used to getting what—or whom—I want." Her gaze was direct.
At that moment, Kitiara stepped directly in front of one of the hobgoblin corpses. Tanis feinted, and Kitiara attempted to counter, but she stumbled against the hobgoblin's outstretched arm and, this time, recovered too slowly. With a lightning move, Tanis tripped her with his heel and let himself fall on top of her.
Her body took the brunt of the impact. Kitiara winced as she struck the packed earth of the clearing, but she didn't cry out. She reached for her sword, but Tanis wrenched her hands away, pinning her wrists to the ground at shoulder level, her elbows bent. He intertwined his legs with hers, immobilizing the proud woman who hurled curses into his face.
Then Tanis stopped, staring at Kitiara. Suddenly he became aware of the curves and hollows of the body beneath his. As she glared up at him, her look of fury gradually changed to amusement.
"Well?" she said, and raised an eyebrow.
"Well," he replied. He pulled himself back a bit.
Her crooked smile snared him. "Here we are."
Tanis breathed musk deep into his lungs. Kitiara raised both brows mockingly and stared pointedly at the muscles gaping through Tanis's torn shirt. Her look dared him. Tanis muttered an old elven oath; Kitiara's smile grew wider. He held himself motionless. No good could come from a union between human and elf, he knew only too well.
Tanis suddenly wished he'd checked this Kitiara Uth Matar for a hidden dagger. But there was no going back now.
* * * * *
Later that night, as Tanis slept on Kitiara's pallet in her camp, the swordswoman eased away from the half-elf and reached for her pack, between pallet and fire. Checking once more to make sure the half-elf was sleeping, Kitiara slipped a hand into the pack, shoving aside spare clothing and provisions as she groped for the catch of the pack's false bottom. Barely breathing, she eased the piece of stiff canvas to one side and peered into the pack. Violet light streamed into the clearing. She let her fingers dance over the source of the glow. ". . . eight, nine," she murmured. "All there." She sighed and smiled, as with sweet contentment, but her eyes glittered.
Chapter 2
Danger Shared
"And so when
