Eryx laughed. “And I took ballet in the Elven Lands.”
Maeve’s head cocked to one side as she surveyed him. “I bet you did.”
Eryx’s expression didn’t change. “We’ll see who is laughing soon enough.”
Eryx advanced on her, done warming up. His moves were smooth and fluid, with the weaponry experience she lacked. The dance was similar to that of a duel with Magic, when she’d use only her hands, but the added weight and extension of her blade was still a challenge.
Just when she thought she’d settled into his rhythm, Eryx changed it. Again and again, ensuring she never had the upper hand. But adapting was a lesson in itself, she supposed. He changed quicker, knocking her off balance with a quick jab of his elbow. She tumbled to the stone, recovering quickly.
Maeve rolled as his blade slammed into the ground just where she had lain, flashing a spiraling color of violet light across the point of impact. She groaned, frustrated that he could Obscure and she could not. She scrambled to her feet and tossed the blade into her left hand, pointing two fingers at her side.
No lightning, Maeve.
Her mouth fell open as Reeve’s voice shot across her mind. He was close. Not there watching, but she could feel he was close.
You’re there to adapt to Aterna Magic, he continued.Not to win.
Maeve’s fingers curled into a fist.But then that means he wins.
You could both win if you’d set aside your pride and take the lesson.
A small bit of warmth flickered through her, as if licking a wound.
Go away, she said, but there was no bite to it.You’re distracting me.
Eryx laughed, charging towards her. “Trying to cheat?”
His exhilarated laughter continued, drawn from his love of a fight. Maeve’s mind shifted to another sound.
Shadow and her wretched laugh. The way her fingers danced across Mal’s chest without his consent. Without him being able to say no. Her fingers through his hair and her mouth moving in tandem with his—
A blow landed across her face, sending her sideways. The blade slipped from her hands as they instinctively moved to brace her falling body. But the landing never came. The smooth, crystal floor of the arena plummeted, sucking down into a thin line, and her line of sight shifted.
Vaukore.
The school was unmistakable.
Two students stood before her, their clothes ancient, a style she had never seen. On their breast pocket was a silver pin in the shape of two expanding, feathered wings. The boy was unfamiliar to her, but a nasty bruise was mid-healing across his face.
The girl was terrifyingly familiar.
Her long white hair cascaded down her back. Her pale skin was youthful, with a glow of adolescence. Her white lashes were long as she looked up at the boy before her. She was radiant.
“Stop it,” she said as the boy stepped towards her, but there was longing on her face, not fear.
Maeve knew exactly where they were. The second floor, just outside a practice hall that was usually dominated by Combative Magic students.
“They’ll take us away, Nevian,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “We cannot touch.”
“I don’t care anymore, Judyth.”
“I do,” she hummed. “I can’t carry your demise on my conscious.”
“What does it matter? Haven’t you heard?”
Shadow, then still just a girl named Judyth, shook her head.
Nevian laughed, a hollow and broken sound. He flicked the pin of feathered wings on her chest, “All the Shadows are being enlisted at dawn. Order of the Dread. We’re done here.”
