“Sword stuff?” “You know what I mean,” she muttered. Roman tilted his head with feigned interest. “I don’t think I do.” He leaned casually against the wide, blue, iridescent trunk of the tree. “Explain it to me.” Matching his stance, she smiled sweetly. “If you’ll let me borrow your sword, I’ll run it through your middle as a demonstration.” She glanced at the short sword strapped to his hip. His mouth curled with amusement. “The princess has claws.”
