The fight in the training camps was growing intense. Moira's beautiful black hair was dancing with the breeze while still being tied up in a lovely ponytail.
She looked magnificent in that tight training clothes. The color was black, of course, highlighting her soft white skin, but that was not the most outstanding feature of her attire. On one of her shoulders, she had the mark of the Princess, the figure of a white dog and a black cat.
"Miss Moira, when are we going to stop?"
James was tired, he knew that whichever he had done to Moira would never go unpunished.
She had come to his tower, to his room from the window, and left a card telling him that she will wait for him in the training camps. Then she threw him a sword, a 'REAL' sword, and the combat begun. It was a ghastly scene.
Many times, Moira threw him to the floor to kiss the dust, then she kicked him when she couldn't pierce him with 'REAL' swords.
