Etan

They'd been sitting on the bench for several minutes and Etan could barely wait for the next word to cross her lips. She was fascinating. And not because of her beauty. He couldn't see much of her face—she wore a demi-mask that left her mouth and jaw free—but what he could see revealed creamy skin, a hint of freckles and a chin just shy of sharp.

He was certain she was stunning. Not that it would have mattered. Something within him burned for her in a way he'd never experienced. It was that feeling that had drawn him to her. As if she'd taken a grip on his soul.

Watching her so quickly and efficiently overcome that bastard Lord who had pawed at her had been nothing short of arousing. She was defiant, strong, certain of herself. Though he'd been disappointed not to have the opportunity to save her, watching her care for herself had only made the knot in his chest tighten further. He'd wanted to applaud and cheer like a Barrelman at a Jousting match. She'd had her foot on his throat, like a fierce Queen in battle, ready to execute her enemy. Then, when he'd spoken, she looked up and…

She'd run to him. With joy on every feature. And somehow, impossibly, he knew she'd forced herself to stop short of touching him. He was determined to make sure she never felt the need to restrain herself again. But most especially if she were fleeing the clutch of a scum like this Lord Vitren.

Etan muttered a curse under his breath. He'd made a mental note of the man's name and would do everything in his power to ensure the man was never left alone with an unwilling woman again.

But where had this beautiful creature learned to fight like that? True, it was against an unsuspecting opponent, and a very drunk one. But still. He'd seen women ten years her elder fall completely to pieces when cornered by a man. Especially one as large as that troll.

"Where did you learn to fight?" he asked when a short, comfortable pause rested between them.

She grinned adorably. "You must promise not to tell anyone. My Knight Defender tells me surprise wins half the battle. And men are generally surprised by a woman who is… capable."

"Your Knight Defender sounds like a wise man," Etan said with a chuckle. "Did he teach you?"

"Only after he caught me hiding in the training gym and watching the men learn."

Etan wanted to laugh with delight. But she wasn't finished.

She grimaced. "As punishment, he made me show him what I had learned. Apparently, my form was terrible. So, I insisted he teach me to correct it. And once he had, I told him if he didn't keep teaching me, I would tell my father that he'd touched me with no chaperone present."

"Dear Lord! The poor man!"

She made a face and fluffed her skirts, pleased with herself. "Truly, he wanted to teach me, but felt that he shouldn't. I was just giving him the right motivation to do what he would have chosen anyway."

"I'm certain you're right," Etan said, beaming like a fool. "And that was… how long ago?" Her face went serious then and she dropped her chin. He took her hand without thought and she watched him twine their fingers, her mouth slightly open. "What is it?" he asked, hushed. "What's wrong?"

She tipped her head then looked up at him. "I am not unhappy in my life. I want you to know that." Etan nodded, glad to hear it. "But when I was in my thirteenth summer a group of men attempted to… take me from my parents. It was quite frightening and although my Knight Defender was able to stop them, it left me feeling… helpless." A twist of fear appeared in Etan's chest, but he ignored it. Her pretty throat bobbed as she frowned and went on. "It is not a happy feeling, helplessness," she said quietly.

"No."

"And so, as I said, I do believe my Knight Defender was actually quite eager to teach me. He became aware of my difficulty sleeping in the weeks after they appeared in my quarters."

Light, help us, Etan thought. There was no question then. She had to be—

"Do not pity me, Sir!" she said suddenly and fiercely, her jaw hard. "I do not live in fear anymore."

"I'm sure you don't," he replied breathlessly. "I've always considered it offensive that some cultures treat women as if they are… incapable."

She blinked and her smile returned. "I feel the same way!"

"One of the best riders in our Cavalry is a woman—yet she is forced to hide her identity, to dress and act like a man when she is in ranks. I have never understood it. The male armor only weighs her down and makes her less effective. She should be able to ride and fight to the best of her ability."

"I agree! I love to ride, yet my mother insists I use the side-saddle, which only puts my poor animal off-balance, and leads me into greater danger."

"You ride?" Etan breathed.

"Every day," she whispered back.

He couldn't believe it. She was perfect.