She hits the ground hard, rolling in a single, graceful movement that brings her back on her feet.
Her damned stomach. I almost stop, but there’s nothing but focus on her face as she sizes me up. Again, and again, we push each other forward, and back, neither of us gaining ground.
My sword comes down harder than intended, slamming into the crossed daggers as she braces, her knees hitting the ground. For a moment, our eyes meet. Pushing down a little harder, I lift my eyebrows. “Ready to stop?”
She slips the daggers free with strength I didn’t expect, rolling away as I hit the ground.Hard.My mouth fills with mud, and I spit it out, expecting laughter that doesn’t come.
A dagger pricks the back of my neck. “Not quite. I thought you had a little more than that in you, Duskbane.”
For fucks’ sake.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.” I almost snarl the words into the ground. “Another round.”
When she releases me, I roll to my feet. Eldritch is frowning, but he’s not watching me. He’s watching them.
The boys are silent. Several are pale. The trained ones of the group look grim, some of them staring at the floor. One of them shakes his head. “What’s the point?”
A heavy fist clamps around my heart, twisting.
“It’s not as bad as all that, lad,” Eldritch says quietly. “Come on, now. Plenty to learn here.”
“Another round, then.” Lyra comes to stand beside me, her eyes traveling across the group. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
I didn’t. Not really, and she knows it. She’s better, quicker, more intuitive than most I’ve fought, and I’ve faced a lot of fucking Lightbringers.
The youths don’t stand a chance.
Not that we ever did. But stupidly, I’ve thrown it in their faces in the hope of giving them something to hold onto. Only instead of giving them hope, I’ve stolen it from them.
The edge of a dagger nudges my back. “Again.”
When I turn, she nods at my hands. “Fight as you would on the field, Duskbane.”
We train to fight without using our erevas. But they need something more than a lesson right now. And as her chin tilts toward the watching crowd, I understand the silent offer for what it is.
Tossing my sword aside, I face her with my palms up. Lyra treads back, putting more distance between us as I lift my palms.
My shadows pool in my hands slower than I would call them if this were a true fight, slow enough to make a show for those watching. They coil through my fingers, spilling to the floor and spreading across the ground, pools of shimmering darkness. From the first, a dark, voided silhouette rises. The mutters behind me taste a little different as I coax the second free. And then the third, my hands twisting and shaping as I wait for Lyra’s reaction. Mirrors of my practice weapon flicker to life in their hands, their faceless features turning in Lyra’s direction and waiting.
Nothing. Not even a flicker in her fire-lit gaze as she studies the Voids with a detached curiosity, and it irritates me beyond reason. Folding my arms, I step back and wait.
The first duplicate moves without warning, striking forward in a lunge. Lyra twists her torso to the right, just enough to avoid contact and her sword hitting the joint of its arm.
When her sword hits a solid wall and bounces away, I see her brows crease. Her head whips to the side, sizing up the other two as they approach her with new concentration.
My attention focuses on their blades, preparing to soften them as needed.
The second and third attack her at the same time from opposite angles. Lyra moves quickly, using their converging momentum to counter them. A pivot puts her between them exactly when they commit, her blades dancing across the back of their knees and slashing at whatwouldbe muscle, if they were made of flesh and blood.
They don’t last forever. Even I’m not infallible enough to call unending Voids from my hands, but they last at least a few hits. This time, I get to watch Lyra’s movements myself. Her braid whips across her face as she spins low, one leg striking out for balance. One of the Voids is knocked off balance, and Lyra flows upright, one dagger driving down into its chest.
It breaks apart beneath her, darkness curling into the air like wisps of smoke before disappearing from view.
She looks up at me with a small smile curling her lips. It looks like a challenge.
The other two attack at once. This time, I push them with everything I’ve got. She counters, parries, dipping and weaving between them in that fluid style, and I lose myself in watching her. And in winning.
Because this is a challenge. Neither of us are feigning now. Her breathing speeds up with her movement, and I pull forth another Void, followed by a fourth.
