“What... the fuck... was that?” he wheezed.
I grinned, offering him a hand up. “That, my friend, is how females fight.”
A ripple of laughter and approving murmurs spread through the group. Even Lincatheron was grinning, though he tried to hide it behind his hand. I could see the change in their expressions, from scepticism to genuine interest.
Fenric, still catching his breath, shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” he admitted, a mixture of awe and chagrin in his voice.
“That’s because you’ve never had to fight like your life depended on it, against someone twice your size and strength.”
One of the female warriors stepped forward, extending a hand not to shake, but to clasp my forearm. “Where did you learn those techniques?”
I shrugged, keeping my tone light, easy. “Women have been part of the command structure of militaries for a long time in the human lands. I was lucky enough to be taught by someone who understood what that meant.”
The warrior nodded. “So, you were a soldier?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I would have been in charge of my own territory eventually, and if there was a war, I wouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines.” I let my gaze sweep over the gathered warriors, holding their attention. “That, and my mentor knew that females—or women, in human lands—live in a world where being able to protect yourself is a necessity.”
A ripple of understanding moved through the warriors, quiet nods exchanged between them.
“The most important thing he taught me is simple.” I folded my arms, letting my stance relax. “Men are arrogant.”
Fenric let out an offended grumble, throwing up his hands. I turned to face him, feigning innocence.
“Sorry,” I said sweetly. “I couldn’t hear that over the sound of you yielding.”
He flipped me off with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
The female warriors erupted in laughter. One even wolf-whistled, which made Fenric’s flush deepen from red to something approaching purple.
Lincatheron stepped forward, and the yard quieted immediately.
“Pair up,” he ordered, the words cutting through the lingering amusement. “I want everyone practicing that sequence. Use the momentum, don’t fight it.” His dark eyes swept over the assembled warriors. “And we stop assuming size equals victory.”
The females moved to obey, pairing off with renewed energy. A few shot me looks that ranged from impressed to calculating, already trying to dissect what they’d just witnessed.
Fenric pushed himself fully upright, rolling his shoulders with a wince. “Want to go again?” he asked, almost respectful in his question. Almost.
But the fight hadn’t helped.
The violence, the demonstration, the satisfaction of putting him on his ass—none of it had done a damn thing to burn through the rage that sat like acid in my chest. If anything, it had sharpened it. Honed it into something with edges that could cut.
“Where’s Varyth?” I asked, my voice cold.
The shift in the atmosphere was immediate. Darian and Fenric exchanged a look. Wary, loaded with silent communication that made my teeth ache.
“He’s busy,” Darian said carefully.
“I don’t care.”
Another glance between them. Fenric cleared his throat. “Isara, maybe you?—”
“Where. Is. He.”
Darian sighed, the sound of someone who knew this was a losing battle but had to try anyway. “His chambers. But Isara?—”
I was already moving.
The training yard fell away behind me, replaced by corridors that had become familiar over the past weeks. Stone and starlight and that persistent fucking song that hummed through the castle’s bones. Usually it was beautiful. Right now it grated against my nerves like broken glass.
