Talal paused in an open doorway leading to a large, green field behind the dwelling occupied by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of warriors organized into sparring groups of four and five.
Alarmed, she picked her way through the rows of machines towards the door leading to the sparring mats.
She wore sparring clothing consisting of snug pants and T-shirt that hugged her shape in all the right places.
She'd always thought him her perfect match in the sparring ring.
She trotted down the hall, toward the practice fields, not surprised to see all the warriors sparring on the field.
He took his place on the sparring field, and Grande leaned close to her.
By the first touch of sunlight, he was at the sparring grounds awaiting anyone to show for practice.
Several of the beefy men living in the house were in the grassy, well-lit courtyard, sparring with swords, knives, and other weaponry that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages.
He'd accepted that sparring was the only real, physical interaction he'd ever have with her.
He carried it with him to the long, pointless Council meeting, to his afternoon sparring session with Jetr, to the banquet and introduction of his nishani to the clan leaders.