You need weaponry designed for your body type.” At least he didn’t say weaknesses. I study the blade in his hand. It’s beautiful, with a solid black hilt engraved with Tyrrish knots, old, mythical runes of intricate swirls and ties. The blade itself is clearly honed to lethal perfection. “It’s spectacular.” “It’s yours.” My head snaps up, but there’s no lie in his onyx eyes. “I had it made for you.” His lips curve slightly.
