“Should what?” Fenric didn’t even look at him, still focused on me with that insufferable confidence. “Give her a head start? I think she can handle herself for a few minutes, Darian.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Darian tried again, and I caught the edge of genuine concern in his tone. The kind that came from experience. From being put on his ass more than once. “She’s not?—”
“I’ve got this.” Fenric waved him off with the casual dismissal of someone who’d never had their ego properly shattered. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, still wearing that easy smile. “It’s just a friendly spar. No need to be so dramatic.”
Just a friendly spar.
Right.
I wondered, vaguely, if it was unfair not to warn him. Not to mention that I’d been trained since I could walk. That violence wasn’t something I’d stumbled into, it was something I’d beenbuiltfor, carved into my bones by a father who understood thatpretty daughters needed to be able to kill just as efficiently as sons.
That every movement, every strike, every defensive sequence had been drilled into me until conscious thought became unnecessary. Until my body moved with the lethal precision that came from thousands of hours of practice and real combat that left scars.
I should probably mention that.
Should probably give him a fighting chance.
“You know,” Fenric said, circling me with predatory confidence, “I’ve been doing this for centuries. So don’t feel bad when?—”
Fuck it.
He could figure it out himself.
I moved into a ready position as I waited for Fenric to strike.
He, of course, moved first.
Fenric lunged forward, his movement a blur of controlled aggression. His body, honed from centuries of training, moved as he aimed to overwhelm me with sheer force. Like most male warriors, he relied on the advantage of his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the raw power in his muscled frame. His arms extended in a grappling motion, seeking to lock around my torso and pin me in a single, decisive move.
Exactly what I’d expected.
I waited until the last possible second, the displacement of air whispering over me as his body surged toward mine. Then, with a fluid motion, like dancing between raindrops, I shifted. A smooth step to the side, my body angling just enough that his momentum carried him past me. My hand shot out, fingers catching his extended wrist and using his own forward drive against him.
A twist. A pivot.
With a deft move, I redirected Fenric’s momentum, using his weight against him. He stumbled forward with a surprised grunt. I released him, letting him regain his balance.
I could’ve brought him to the ground in that moment, but it was more useful to leave him on his feet for now.
Fenric didn’t hesitate before attacking again. His hand shot toward my hair. I almost scoffed at the predictability of it.
Really, Fenric?
I twisted free before he could get a good grip, sidestepping smoothly. Then, without giving him a chance to correct, I closed the space between us.
My hands grasped his shoulders.
I drove my knee up.
I pulled the strike, stopping it just shy of ruining his entire day, but the message was clear. If I had wanted to drop him to his knees, I could have.
Fenric’s breath stalled, his eyes widening as he registered the blow I’d pulled. I stepped back, releasing him, and he let out a soft curse.
“Wow,” I said, dripping with false admiration as I circled him slowly. “Centuries of experience. Really shows, doesn’t it?”
Darian made a choking sound that he tried to disguise as a cough. Even Lincatheron’s mouth twitched, barely perceptible, but there.
I turned to the assembled female warriors.
