“If you’re going to learn to fight,” I said to the warriors who watched with renewed interest. “That’s the first lesson.”
I gestured to Fenric without looking at him. “Males fight like males. They rely on their strength, their reach, their bulk. And theyalways,” I emphasised, “always go for the same vulnerabilities first.”
I ticked off on my fingers. “Hair. Throat. Wrists. They grab, they restrain, they pin. Because that’s what works when you’rebigger, stronger, heavier. When you can use your body as a weapon just by existing.”
I glanced at Fenric, who was exchanging a look with Darian. Some sort of male commiseration, no doubt.
I tapped Fenric’s broad chest. “All that muscle might look impressive, he’s bigger, stronger. Doesn’t matter. Not if you’re smarter.”
Fenric let out an offended scoff. I ignored him.
I paced languidly before the females. “Men—males, also have specific vulnerabilities that we can exploit. Their centre of gravity is higher, making them easier to unbalance. Their protective instincts toward certainsensitiveareas—” I gestured vaguely toward Fenric’s groin, earning a chorus of chuckles from the assembled females. “Make them predictable in how they’ll move to shield themselves.”
One of the female warriors—a slender fae with dark purple hair twisted into intricate braids—leaned forward, her interest visibly piqued.
“There are some other important differences.” I turned, letting the words hang.
I grinned at Fenric, who looked torn between irritation at the dismissal, and perhaps a reluctant respect. “Want to try again?”
He nodded, though there was a wariness about him that hadn’t been present before. This time, he approached more cautiously, circling me. I could see him reassessing, trying to predict my next move.
When he lunged now, it was with more care. He feinted left, then right, trying to throw me off balance. But I saw the tension in his shoulders, the slight shift of his weight that telegraphed his true intentions.
He came at me lower, his arms shooting out, aiming to take me down. I saw his intent, read the determination on his face. But instead of dodging, I let him take me down.
We hit the ground hard, the impact forcing the air from my lungs in a harsh breath. Dust billowed around us, coating my skin and filling my nostrils with the scent of sun-baked earth. Fenric’s weight settled over me, his muscled form pinning me effectively to the ground. His hands gripped my wrists, forcing them above my head as he straddled my waist.
For a moment, triumph blazed across his features, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Some of the watching warriors sniggered, others raised eyebrows or wore knowing smirks. They thought the demonstration was over.
They were wrong.
I let my body go slack beneath Fenric, feigning defeat.
His grip loosened, already sensing a victory. That split second was all I needed.
A smug laugh had just escaped his lips when I moved.
With a twist of my hips, I bucked upwards, throwing him off balance enough to create the space I needed. In one fluid motion, I freed my legs from beneath his weight, my muscles burning with the effort as I snapped them up and around his shoulders.
Time slowed as I hooked my ankles behind Fenric’s neck, the rough fabric of his tunic scraping against my calves. He let out a shocked noise, realisation dawning too late. I could see the beads of sweat on his brow, even the faint stubble along his jaw as my thighs clamped around his head.
With a grunt, I used the leverage of my legs to yank him sideways, my hips pivoting in a fluid arc.
The moment he hit the dirt, I tightened my hold, my legs securing him in a chokehold, my body angled just right to keep him from throwing me off.
Fenric growled, instinctively trying to pry my legs apart, but I held firm, pressing my forearm against his chest to pin him further, my weight making it impossible for him to escape.
A few of the watching warriors let out low whistles.
Fenric struggled ferociously as he realised exactly how trapped he was. He thrashed beneath me, his powerful body bucking and twisting. Muscles strained beneath his skin, cords standing out along his arms as he fought against my hold.
“Yield,” I commanded.
Fenric let out a strangled snarl. He fought more violently, trying to break free. Dust kicked up around us in small clouds, the afternoon sun catching the particles like floating embers. His face flushed crimson, partly from exertion and partly from the growing lack of oxygen. The rise and fall of his chest beneath my forearm became more frantic with each passing second, each desperate breath he drew.
“I said, yield.” I increased the pressure to make my point.
After a few more moments of futile struggling, Fenric tapped the ground twice, conceding defeat. I released him immediately, rolling to my feet as he gasped for air. Fenric pushed himself up, red-faced and coughing.
