Even Zahra noted how strong sheâd gotten over the past few months. The fact that it was discernible, rather than felt, spoke volumes about how she felt about her progress. Muscles sheâd never known to exist had begun to form. Biceps. Shoulders. Everything she needed to lance an arrow clear through someoneâs skull. An archerâs dream. She felt strong. Stronger, in any case. No longer did she huff and puff up the stairway like she was on the brink of death. An improvement on her endurance. Not only had she begun regularly concocting her own little potionsâunder Româs supervision and frequent recommendations that she should practice self-restriction or else sheâd find herself much in the same place he had, but sheâd also stayed true to a regimen. A rarity, given her lack of conviction in most things.
Alchemy was a tool; not a crutch to lean herself on.
It was a reminder she took seriously, even if her impatience was in conflict. She could tell by the pinch of his brows whenever they had their lessons that it was no laughing matter. How would she have fared in his place? Not so well if her drinking was anything to go by. Sailors, and pirates, by default linked arms with some sort of dependency. Whether it was freedom or liquor or any other kind of unsavory inclination, they were bound and doomed once their boots hit the boards of a ship. Usually. There were exemptions. She hadnât met one yet.
This was a perfect day to test her mettle. The day was in full flight and she had already delivered the questionable challenge letters underneath Khari and Româs doorways; a wink of levity in her slanted scrawl. All sloping letters and eccentric spirals; the wording was ridiculous, but she assumed they wouldâve understood it anyhow. She hadnât actually sparred with anyone besides Marcy and Ril. One was planned, and the other was quite impromptu. Sheâd learned much from both⊠but had always wanted to toss dirt with those two. The sun had fortunately dipped behind a formation of clouds, allowing a little shade across the training grounds.
Favoring a lighter fare of clothing for the smarmy weather, Zahra had chosen a fitted leather vest and billowy, dark brown trousers that were rolled to her knees. As was common in Skyhold, sheâd forgone shoes. She stretched her arms over her head in a wide arc and let them fall back to her sides again; a grin already set on her face as she awaited their arrival.
Khari was the first to show, lightly-armored compared to usual, like she wasn't quite sure if she were going to be needing it or not. She was still doing up some of the pieces as she walked actually, an enterprise that was clearly frustrating her. Grumbling, she came to a stop a few feet from Zahra, blowing a puff of air upwards to force a stray red curl out of her face. It worked for about two seconds before the lock fell back down in exactly the same spot.
The issue was one of lacingâit seemed she hadn't threaded them through beforehand like she probably should have, and was now effectively trying to stitch herself into the hardened leather plates. âWhy is this harder to get into than plate?" One of the laces finally fit through the eyelet, but that still left her at an awkward angle, considering that they ran down her sides beneath either arm.
Zahraâs attempt to withhold laughter ended in an unwomanly snortânot so unlike her usual bouts of laughter, though she doubled over, and planted her hands on her knees, before finally straightening and crossing the yard towards her. So many laces, it was a wonder that Khari had enough patience to put any of it on. âLet me, let me,â she grinned wide, and circled around to Khariâs side, flapping her fingers away so that she could finish lace them up herself.
It wasnât difficult to do from her angle. A second pair of hands was essential, or thereâd be a lot of frustration. She wondered if this was the reason knights had those assistants, yes. Squires. Did templars have the same kind of person trailing along beside them? Chevalier? Someone who would help when they were needed. Learning along the way. Someday, she supposed, Khari would have someone like that at her side, teaching them what it meant to be a warrior. She hoped so.
âHere I was thinking that anything made of steel would be a bloody racket to get into.â She gave her a pat and stepped off to the side, âI donât know how you do it.â
"Lots of practice, if I had to guess." It seemed Rom wasn't long after Khari, though he'd emerged from the main keep, geared up as he usually was by baring his arms up past the shoulders, with his leather armor only where it was needed. No doubt he didn't struggle putting that on, or taking it off. Sometimes it seemed like he didn't ever leave home without it, or his blades. The ones he wore today weren't sharp and deadly like the others, though, more useful for painfully prodding weak spots to let his opponent know that in a real fight they'd be bleeding all over the place now.
He pulled on a second bracer, the protection extending along the top of his hand to protect his knuckles as well. He flexed his hand to test the tightness of it, apparently finding it adequate. "So what are we up for today, Zee?" He seemed in a decent mood. Possibly from his continued recovery from those potions of his. She hadn't seen him take one in quite a while now. Not since she'd made it back to Skyhold at least. He was quite possibly done with them altogether.
That Zahra was wearing the least amount of armor hadnât escaped her, but she was an archer, and usually only bore leather bracers and little else; even when using her rapiers. Movement was a priority. She was beginning to realize that it was her main strength and she only just had begun working on her endurance to meet the requirements of lasting more than a few minutes. Her window was small, but she was optimistic that sheâd improve with time.
She clapped her hands together and wandered to the center of the training grounds. âIâve seen both of you spar before. And while youâve been away, Iâve been training quite a bit.â An eyebrow rose, inquiringly. She spun into a slow, languid circle, hands sweeping out to her sides. âI figured itâd be fun to see the fruit of my labors.â She pulled her hands back to her sides and grinned wide, teeth bared, âWith bets, for flavor.â
Khari blinked, crossing her arms, though not in a particularly aggressive way. âWait, what are we betting? Because if this is another game where we have to take our clothes off, I'm not drunk enough to play it."
âNo, no, not thatkind of game,â Zahra waggled her eyebrows and stepped off to the side of the grounds, hunching over to pick up her blunt blades. They were somewhat thinner. Perfect for swinging blades with as much precision as rapiers. Clearly not as sharp as those made for penetrating the thin defenses leather armor allotted. But, enough to let someone know that if theyâd been sharper, they would have done damage to hobble them.
âBets to see who can take someone down the quickest,â she tapped her blade on the ground and tipped her head to the side, âThey donât need to be as tawdry as those, unless you want them to be. Stripping our clothes would be awfully strange.â Her lips curled into another smile, crinkling the cornerâs of her eyes, âPersonally, Iâd love an extra piece of pie at our meals.â She rolled her shoulder into a stretch and shrugged her shoulders, working out the kinks. Challenges always pushed her to her limits, this was no different.
Rom looked a little amused by the idea. He made his way over to the edge of the practice ring, allowing the two women to occupy the center. "If you can take down Khari at all, I'll get you all the pie you can handle." There was no doubt he was capable of it. Being Lord Inquisitor had its benefits, after all, and one of them included the ability to nab anything he wanted from Skyhold's kitchens. It was something he'd been known to do, from time to time.
He put his back to the wooden fence, stepping up to sit on the highest rung of it. "Enough pie to undo all the work you've been doing lately."
Khari grinned, apparently pleased with the direction of the conversation for some reason or another. âThat's not a whole lot of incentive for me, but this is a spar, so I really don't need any. Pie's nice though." She considered the ring around them, then reached back over her shoulder to pull forward her own weapon. It was certainly much heavier than anything Zahra would ever bother to use, and quite a lot longer as well.
He was right. Itâd undo all her hard workâthough she figured that all she needed to do was train even harder to allow herself the satisfaction of an extra pastry on her plate. Skyholdâs pastries were divine. Zahra lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug and stepped off to the center of the grounds, grin tempering itself into a smile, âBragging rights are just as good.â
It was a challenge. A small taunt. She could already see the flicker in Khariâs eyes; the woman always loved a good fight whether it was with her fists or her ridiculously large sword. Sparring was a battle in itself. It was one of the things she loved so much about her. For a moment she glanced at her own thin blades and decidedly tossed one to the side, drawing one of her hands at the middle of her back: fingers splayed.
What Zahra lacked in ferocity and brutish strength, she made up for in agility. Flexibility. Grace, in a sense. Rapiers were used by those who could dance; and if sheâd learned anything from Marcy⊠fencing was a calculated art that relied on reflexes, and calculated movements. Attributes she could take advantage of. Temper like steel. She drew her foot backwards and slowly sidestepped to Khariâs right, blade poised vertically. Waiting.
It would no doubt be an exaggeration to call anything Khari did in a spar or a battle dancing. They'd fought alongside each other often enough for Zahra to know that. But the Khari that looked back at her now was clearly a very different one from the early days, when she'd have risen to the bait like a hungry shark. Instead, her expression was almost blank, like she wasn't even paying attention to what Zahra had said, only the way in which she was standing. Assessing, analyzing. Strategizing.
But when she moved, she exploded. With a sudden lunge, Khari brought her sword around faster than anyone had a right to move something that large, going in for an efficient overhead cleave. It wasn't actually aimed for Zahra's head, of courseâeven a practice blade would do a lot of damage if it hit there. Instead, she went in for the forward shoulder.
It surprised Zahra when Khari hurtled forward after the minuet of non-actionâsheâd been watching her closely. Looking for chinks in her posture, in her stance, perhaps. There was no doubt that sheâd learned much from Leon and Lucien both; she was redefining what it meant to be a chevalier, all on her own.
However, she had misjudged her speed. It forced her into an awkward position of sidestepping to the left, twisting her torso sideways, and bringing her rapier to clang against the flat side of Khariâs blade. It did nothing but allow her enough time to stumble off to the side. Bare instincts, rather than anything else. If sheâd taken any longer than a second to react, she wouldâve caught her arm in the downward cleave.
This left her in an unfortunate position where she couldnât take a second swing. Not how sheâd originally planned. Instead, Zahra took a few more circling steps, kicking up dirt, and attempted a forward thrust towards Khariâs belly.
Khari shifted to the side slightly, just enough that the blade skimmed past the surface of her armor instead of posing any genuine threat. Unlike Zahra's dodge, it didn't unbalance her much; she stepped closer and went in for a pommel strike to the sternum.
Zahra only backpedaledenough for Khariâs strike to fall shy of her chest. A few inches, at best. Sheâd watched Khari enough times from across the grounds to know how she moved, but even still, she was surprised by just how quick her movements were. She was a far cry from the woman sheâd met on the shoreline, baring her teeth against dragons and giants. Wide-eyed and curious; a beast of a woman who railed at the chance to battle against something much larger than herself.
She supposed that that Khari was still there, under the surface. Whatever her lessons had taught her proved much more efficient in a duel. Any attempt to taunt her proved fruitless. She couldnât even catch her eye. As she rounded at her elbow, she couldnât help but think of a chess board. Where once Khari had moved about with a relentless fury, she moved with purpose. Guessing where sheâd move before she planted her foot down.
After parrying a few more strikes, twirling out of reach, Zahra managed to catch Khariâs shoulder, after receiving a few blows of her own. Instinctive. Quick strikes. Ineffective compared to Khariâs furious strength. But if they had been true blades, they may have been enough to send someone to their knees. She leveled one at the back of her leg. Enough to hobble, if it had been a true battle. She couldnât help but grin as she set her blade in front of her face, and stepped into her, attempting to stall the downward strike at the base; catching the pommel. A rapier would falter against a much larger sword, unless the combatants were close enough to snatch at their wrist.
She had. Though, not particularly successfully.
The stand-still didnât last as long as she wished it would. Panting as she was. Sweat trickled down her spine, and dripped off her chin. Khari managed to slip closer still, slipping her arm beneath her armpit, tossing her off her feet. Into the air. The world turned upside down. Even if sheâd wanted to halt her momentum, she doubted she could. She hadnât expected it. Not until she landed on her back and her breath heaved out of her. Her rapier clattered off to the side. It took her a moment to curl into herself, before she started laughing. Cackling.
âStrong as a bear, you are,â it came out as a wheeze, bared through teeth, âGuess you win this one.â
Khari grinned in reply, the narrow, dauntless focus of a moment ago dissolving as though it had never been there and leaving only the gregarious elf woman behind in its wake. Like someone had snapped and produced light in a dark room, chasing away the shadow and foreboding all at once. Staking her practice sword in the ground, she made her way over to Zahra, offering a hand to help her back to her feet. âSorry I threw you. Don't get a chance to practice that, usually. Most of the people I fight are a bit too heavy for it, and Stel's too slippery."
Zahra reached up and grabbed onto Khariâs hand, letting her pull her back up. She planted her hands on her hips and rolled her shoulders, stretching out the ache in her back. Sheâd definitely feel it tomorrow. The grin hadnât left her face, though. She never wanted anyone to go easy on her. It wouldâve been insulting otherwise. âThatâs alright. Surprised me, thatâs all.â
Jokes aside. She noted the difference. Her lack of endurance had improved. She doubted she wouldâve been able to last that long against Khari before, not with her relentless style of fighting. It was something, at least. There would be times in the future where a bow would not be at her fingertips, where sheâd have to square off against someone much stronger than she. âHere I was thinking Iâd made all the progress,â once she steadied her breathing, she sidled to Khariâs side and slung one of her arms around her shoulders, hugging her close, âAlas, I donât think Iâve got slippery in me.â
She hummed low in her throat and waggled her eyebrows in Româs direction. A challenge, in not so many words. âI donât think Iâll be winning any pies today, but this, I think, is good enough.â
Alchemy was a tool; not a crutch to lean herself on.
It was a reminder she took seriously, even if her impatience was in conflict. She could tell by the pinch of his brows whenever they had their lessons that it was no laughing matter. How would she have fared in his place? Not so well if her drinking was anything to go by. Sailors, and pirates, by default linked arms with some sort of dependency. Whether it was freedom or liquor or any other kind of unsavory inclination, they were bound and doomed once their boots hit the boards of a ship. Usually. There were exemptions. She hadnât met one yet.
This was a perfect day to test her mettle. The day was in full flight and she had already delivered the questionable challenge letters underneath Khari and Româs doorways; a wink of levity in her slanted scrawl. All sloping letters and eccentric spirals; the wording was ridiculous, but she assumed they wouldâve understood it anyhow. She hadnât actually sparred with anyone besides Marcy and Ril. One was planned, and the other was quite impromptu. Sheâd learned much from both⊠but had always wanted to toss dirt with those two. The sun had fortunately dipped behind a formation of clouds, allowing a little shade across the training grounds.
Favoring a lighter fare of clothing for the smarmy weather, Zahra had chosen a fitted leather vest and billowy, dark brown trousers that were rolled to her knees. As was common in Skyhold, sheâd forgone shoes. She stretched her arms over her head in a wide arc and let them fall back to her sides again; a grin already set on her face as she awaited their arrival.
Khari was the first to show, lightly-armored compared to usual, like she wasn't quite sure if she were going to be needing it or not. She was still doing up some of the pieces as she walked actually, an enterprise that was clearly frustrating her. Grumbling, she came to a stop a few feet from Zahra, blowing a puff of air upwards to force a stray red curl out of her face. It worked for about two seconds before the lock fell back down in exactly the same spot.
The issue was one of lacingâit seemed she hadn't threaded them through beforehand like she probably should have, and was now effectively trying to stitch herself into the hardened leather plates. âWhy is this harder to get into than plate?" One of the laces finally fit through the eyelet, but that still left her at an awkward angle, considering that they ran down her sides beneath either arm.
Zahraâs attempt to withhold laughter ended in an unwomanly snortânot so unlike her usual bouts of laughter, though she doubled over, and planted her hands on her knees, before finally straightening and crossing the yard towards her. So many laces, it was a wonder that Khari had enough patience to put any of it on. âLet me, let me,â she grinned wide, and circled around to Khariâs side, flapping her fingers away so that she could finish lace them up herself.
It wasnât difficult to do from her angle. A second pair of hands was essential, or thereâd be a lot of frustration. She wondered if this was the reason knights had those assistants, yes. Squires. Did templars have the same kind of person trailing along beside them? Chevalier? Someone who would help when they were needed. Learning along the way. Someday, she supposed, Khari would have someone like that at her side, teaching them what it meant to be a warrior. She hoped so.
âHere I was thinking that anything made of steel would be a bloody racket to get into.â She gave her a pat and stepped off to the side, âI donât know how you do it.â
"Lots of practice, if I had to guess." It seemed Rom wasn't long after Khari, though he'd emerged from the main keep, geared up as he usually was by baring his arms up past the shoulders, with his leather armor only where it was needed. No doubt he didn't struggle putting that on, or taking it off. Sometimes it seemed like he didn't ever leave home without it, or his blades. The ones he wore today weren't sharp and deadly like the others, though, more useful for painfully prodding weak spots to let his opponent know that in a real fight they'd be bleeding all over the place now.
He pulled on a second bracer, the protection extending along the top of his hand to protect his knuckles as well. He flexed his hand to test the tightness of it, apparently finding it adequate. "So what are we up for today, Zee?" He seemed in a decent mood. Possibly from his continued recovery from those potions of his. She hadn't seen him take one in quite a while now. Not since she'd made it back to Skyhold at least. He was quite possibly done with them altogether.
That Zahra was wearing the least amount of armor hadnât escaped her, but she was an archer, and usually only bore leather bracers and little else; even when using her rapiers. Movement was a priority. She was beginning to realize that it was her main strength and she only just had begun working on her endurance to meet the requirements of lasting more than a few minutes. Her window was small, but she was optimistic that sheâd improve with time.
She clapped her hands together and wandered to the center of the training grounds. âIâve seen both of you spar before. And while youâve been away, Iâve been training quite a bit.â An eyebrow rose, inquiringly. She spun into a slow, languid circle, hands sweeping out to her sides. âI figured itâd be fun to see the fruit of my labors.â She pulled her hands back to her sides and grinned wide, teeth bared, âWith bets, for flavor.â
Khari blinked, crossing her arms, though not in a particularly aggressive way. âWait, what are we betting? Because if this is another game where we have to take our clothes off, I'm not drunk enough to play it."
âNo, no, not thatkind of game,â Zahra waggled her eyebrows and stepped off to the side of the grounds, hunching over to pick up her blunt blades. They were somewhat thinner. Perfect for swinging blades with as much precision as rapiers. Clearly not as sharp as those made for penetrating the thin defenses leather armor allotted. But, enough to let someone know that if theyâd been sharper, they would have done damage to hobble them.
âBets to see who can take someone down the quickest,â she tapped her blade on the ground and tipped her head to the side, âThey donât need to be as tawdry as those, unless you want them to be. Stripping our clothes would be awfully strange.â Her lips curled into another smile, crinkling the cornerâs of her eyes, âPersonally, Iâd love an extra piece of pie at our meals.â She rolled her shoulder into a stretch and shrugged her shoulders, working out the kinks. Challenges always pushed her to her limits, this was no different.
Rom looked a little amused by the idea. He made his way over to the edge of the practice ring, allowing the two women to occupy the center. "If you can take down Khari at all, I'll get you all the pie you can handle." There was no doubt he was capable of it. Being Lord Inquisitor had its benefits, after all, and one of them included the ability to nab anything he wanted from Skyhold's kitchens. It was something he'd been known to do, from time to time.
He put his back to the wooden fence, stepping up to sit on the highest rung of it. "Enough pie to undo all the work you've been doing lately."
Khari grinned, apparently pleased with the direction of the conversation for some reason or another. âThat's not a whole lot of incentive for me, but this is a spar, so I really don't need any. Pie's nice though." She considered the ring around them, then reached back over her shoulder to pull forward her own weapon. It was certainly much heavier than anything Zahra would ever bother to use, and quite a lot longer as well.
He was right. Itâd undo all her hard workâthough she figured that all she needed to do was train even harder to allow herself the satisfaction of an extra pastry on her plate. Skyholdâs pastries were divine. Zahra lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug and stepped off to the center of the grounds, grin tempering itself into a smile, âBragging rights are just as good.â
It was a challenge. A small taunt. She could already see the flicker in Khariâs eyes; the woman always loved a good fight whether it was with her fists or her ridiculously large sword. Sparring was a battle in itself. It was one of the things she loved so much about her. For a moment she glanced at her own thin blades and decidedly tossed one to the side, drawing one of her hands at the middle of her back: fingers splayed.
What Zahra lacked in ferocity and brutish strength, she made up for in agility. Flexibility. Grace, in a sense. Rapiers were used by those who could dance; and if sheâd learned anything from Marcy⊠fencing was a calculated art that relied on reflexes, and calculated movements. Attributes she could take advantage of. Temper like steel. She drew her foot backwards and slowly sidestepped to Khariâs right, blade poised vertically. Waiting.
It would no doubt be an exaggeration to call anything Khari did in a spar or a battle dancing. They'd fought alongside each other often enough for Zahra to know that. But the Khari that looked back at her now was clearly a very different one from the early days, when she'd have risen to the bait like a hungry shark. Instead, her expression was almost blank, like she wasn't even paying attention to what Zahra had said, only the way in which she was standing. Assessing, analyzing. Strategizing.
But when she moved, she exploded. With a sudden lunge, Khari brought her sword around faster than anyone had a right to move something that large, going in for an efficient overhead cleave. It wasn't actually aimed for Zahra's head, of courseâeven a practice blade would do a lot of damage if it hit there. Instead, she went in for the forward shoulder.
It surprised Zahra when Khari hurtled forward after the minuet of non-actionâsheâd been watching her closely. Looking for chinks in her posture, in her stance, perhaps. There was no doubt that sheâd learned much from Leon and Lucien both; she was redefining what it meant to be a chevalier, all on her own.
However, she had misjudged her speed. It forced her into an awkward position of sidestepping to the left, twisting her torso sideways, and bringing her rapier to clang against the flat side of Khariâs blade. It did nothing but allow her enough time to stumble off to the side. Bare instincts, rather than anything else. If sheâd taken any longer than a second to react, she wouldâve caught her arm in the downward cleave.
This left her in an unfortunate position where she couldnât take a second swing. Not how sheâd originally planned. Instead, Zahra took a few more circling steps, kicking up dirt, and attempted a forward thrust towards Khariâs belly.
Khari shifted to the side slightly, just enough that the blade skimmed past the surface of her armor instead of posing any genuine threat. Unlike Zahra's dodge, it didn't unbalance her much; she stepped closer and went in for a pommel strike to the sternum.
Zahra only backpedaledenough for Khariâs strike to fall shy of her chest. A few inches, at best. Sheâd watched Khari enough times from across the grounds to know how she moved, but even still, she was surprised by just how quick her movements were. She was a far cry from the woman sheâd met on the shoreline, baring her teeth against dragons and giants. Wide-eyed and curious; a beast of a woman who railed at the chance to battle against something much larger than herself.
She supposed that that Khari was still there, under the surface. Whatever her lessons had taught her proved much more efficient in a duel. Any attempt to taunt her proved fruitless. She couldnât even catch her eye. As she rounded at her elbow, she couldnât help but think of a chess board. Where once Khari had moved about with a relentless fury, she moved with purpose. Guessing where sheâd move before she planted her foot down.
After parrying a few more strikes, twirling out of reach, Zahra managed to catch Khariâs shoulder, after receiving a few blows of her own. Instinctive. Quick strikes. Ineffective compared to Khariâs furious strength. But if they had been true blades, they may have been enough to send someone to their knees. She leveled one at the back of her leg. Enough to hobble, if it had been a true battle. She couldnât help but grin as she set her blade in front of her face, and stepped into her, attempting to stall the downward strike at the base; catching the pommel. A rapier would falter against a much larger sword, unless the combatants were close enough to snatch at their wrist.
She had. Though, not particularly successfully.
The stand-still didnât last as long as she wished it would. Panting as she was. Sweat trickled down her spine, and dripped off her chin. Khari managed to slip closer still, slipping her arm beneath her armpit, tossing her off her feet. Into the air. The world turned upside down. Even if sheâd wanted to halt her momentum, she doubted she could. She hadnât expected it. Not until she landed on her back and her breath heaved out of her. Her rapier clattered off to the side. It took her a moment to curl into herself, before she started laughing. Cackling.
âStrong as a bear, you are,â it came out as a wheeze, bared through teeth, âGuess you win this one.â
Khari grinned in reply, the narrow, dauntless focus of a moment ago dissolving as though it had never been there and leaving only the gregarious elf woman behind in its wake. Like someone had snapped and produced light in a dark room, chasing away the shadow and foreboding all at once. Staking her practice sword in the ground, she made her way over to Zahra, offering a hand to help her back to her feet. âSorry I threw you. Don't get a chance to practice that, usually. Most of the people I fight are a bit too heavy for it, and Stel's too slippery."
Zahra reached up and grabbed onto Khariâs hand, letting her pull her back up. She planted her hands on her hips and rolled her shoulders, stretching out the ache in her back. Sheâd definitely feel it tomorrow. The grin hadnât left her face, though. She never wanted anyone to go easy on her. It wouldâve been insulting otherwise. âThatâs alright. Surprised me, thatâs all.â
Jokes aside. She noted the difference. Her lack of endurance had improved. She doubted she wouldâve been able to last that long against Khari before, not with her relentless style of fighting. It was something, at least. There would be times in the future where a bow would not be at her fingertips, where sheâd have to square off against someone much stronger than she. âHere I was thinking Iâd made all the progress,â once she steadied her breathing, she sidled to Khariâs side and slung one of her arms around her shoulders, hugging her close, âAlas, I donât think Iâve got slippery in me.â
She hummed low in her throat and waggled her eyebrows in Româs direction. A challenge, in not so many words. âI donât think Iâll be winning any pies today, but this, I think, is good enough.â