The weapons practice had been a great idea, and not only because Grace had found a way to spend time with Fenris. The long evenings after Danarius and Bea retired were now spent in the training yard, and she was greatly enjoying having a chance to spend time with him, but the real benefit was entirely for Fenris.

He was a far better with his chosen weapon than she ever would be with hers. She didn't know if it was aptitude, training, or merely that he enjoyed his sword-work more than she would ever enjoy using her knives; but the result was that Fenris often found himself in the role of trainer, and the difference to his self confidence was amazing.

He wasn't acting any differently around others, but when it was clear when they were alone together. He didn't watch her with the fearful caution he'd used before; he didn't wait for her to make the first move or suggestion; he sometimes spoke first; he was even criticizing her performance in a way he never would have dared to do before. He was actually a rather good trainer, he made each step very clear to her and continued to challenge her growing skills.

Which was why Grace found herself dripping with sweat, bent over and gasping for breath, both hands stinging from when he'd disarmed her just a moment before.

"Come on, Grace, it shouldn't be this easy! What have you been doing with your days? Sitting around that fancy parlor? You're getting soft."

Grace scowled and glared at him, and almost ruined the effect by practically cheering when he scowled back instead of retreating. "Yes, thank you, I have been sitting in that fancy parlor. And yes, I know I'm soft. But really, what's the point in killing myself over this? It's a hobby, just something I do so I'm not completely defenseless."

He snorted. "The point is so someone else doesn't kill you. This isn't a game. Poor training is worse than none at all - you know that. Rest period is over, let's do it again."

Grace shot him a glare, but smiled as she went over to pick up her daggers from the ground near him. He may be a good trainer, but he often forgot a key point: she was not just a fighter who used knives, she was a rogue.

He was standing there calmly - wearing a slight smirk, to be honest - letting his sword rest casually on the ground in front of him, both hands folded over the hilt.

Grace walked past him to pick up her knives, then around behind him. Sheathing her knives, she moved up on his left side and before he realized she was there, she used her right foot to kick the point of his sword to one side, causing him to drop it. When he turned to her with a look somewhere between surprise and anger, she kicked the great sword again to get it out of the way, hooked her right leg around his, and tackled him, carrying them both to the ground.

She would have landed on top, pinning him, but Fenris was quick enough to turn them so neither had the advantage.

"That was a dirty trick, Grace."

She just grinned, unrepentant. "Rogue."

The following scuffle went on for quite some time; he was strong, and not completely unskilled at hand-to-hand combat, but she was quicker, and had more skills at her command. They finally called it a draw when the moon was high in the sky, indicating they'd spent far more time than they usually did on practice.

...

When they had dusted themselves off and collected whatever random bits of equipment had become lost in the course of the evening, Grace made her way to the gate that lead out of the training yard. Fenris sheathed his sword and then walked over to join her, and she gave him a tired smile. She was just turning to open the gate when Fenris' hand on the latch stopped her. She looked at him in surprise.

"Will you teach me some of those moves?" He sounded very reluctant to ask it of her, so she hid the smile that threatened to escape.

"Of course. It seems a fair trade, and I'll be pleased to get a break from your tender training methods."

He made some response, she was sure, but she had just noticed that he was standing closer to her than he usually did, and she couldn't look away from his bright green eyes.

...

Fenris released the gate, letting it swing open, and waited for Grace to go through. When she didn't, he looked at her questioningly, and found himself caught by her gaze. She didn't often make eye contact. From the time they met, she had seemed to know how uncomfortable it made him; ever since that night with Hadriana when she had seen far more than he wanted her to, and helped him in the wake of it, she had made even more of a point of avoiding his eyes. Now, though, she was staring, motionless, and he couldn't manage to look away.

Until she kissed him. That shook him out of the spell of her gaze very quickly, and he froze as his thoughts spun into panic. What was she thinking? Did she expect repayment for teaching him hand-to-hand combat moves? He had thought she was his friend - his only friend - and let his guard down against the sort of demands that females made on him. This was the last thing he would have expected of Grace, but there she was, her lips pressed to his. Finally, the barest hint of a thought - this was actually rather nice - crossed his mind before she stepped away.

...

Grace hadn't planned on kissing Fenris, but she couldn't resist the opportunity. Her feelings for him had been growing ever since they met, and grew faster as he found a measure of confidence in her presence. She had hoped it wouldn't come as too much of a surprise, but given the way he went stiller than if he'd been turned to stone, she suspected it had.

When even a little bit of persistence didn't get any response, Grace stepped away and looked at him. He looked shocked, and not happy about it - in fact, he was looking at her as if she'd just kicked his puppy. Her face turned bright red as she backed through the gate. When he still didn't move, she muttered an apology, and fled.