“Give me your weapons.” “Why? And no.” Like hell she’d give him her daggers. In a swift movement, he grabbed a bucket of water from beside her door and tossed the contents onto the hall floor before holding it out. “Give me your weapons.” Training with him would be absolutely wonderful. “Tell me why.” “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” “Then we’re going to have another brawl.” His tattoo seeming impossibly darker in the dim hall, he stared at her beneath lowered brows as if to say, You call that a brawl?
