He blocked them all, of course, buteach movement taught me. “Look, Isara?—”
“What does he want with me?” I swept low, aiming for his legs. He jumped back, but his usual easy confidence was cracking. “What makes me so fucking interesting that nightmare creatures are willing to breach Varyth’s precious wards?”
“You’re overthinking.” Darian caught my wrist as I threw another lazy punch, but instead of pinning me, he hesitated. “It’s not—it’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it.” I twisted free and put space between us again. “I heard Varyth talking about mycapabilities. What I might become.”
Darian’s face was flushed now, sweat beading along his hairline. But it wasn’t from exertion. It was from the way I keptpushing, kept demanding answers while I systematically picked apart his defences.
“The crossing changed you,” he said finally, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Sometimes humans develop minor abilities. Healing faster, sensing magic?—”
“Minor abilities don’t make ancient lords send shapeshifting assassins.” I feinted right, then drove my elbow toward his ribs. He blocked, but barely. “What kind of power are we talking about?”
“I don’t—” Darian’s guard dropped slightly as he struggled to answer. “It’s not like that. The Veil doesn’t just hand out party tricks. When it marks someone, really marks them, it’s because?—”
A whistle pierced the air.
Both of us froze. Darian’s mouth snapped shut so fast I heard his teeth click.
Varyth stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, silver eyes burning with warning. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but the whistle had been precise, commanding.
Darian was entirely silent as he launched into his next attack.
But I had found a pattern. Hefavoured his right foot before every heavy attack.Every time he prepared for a blow, he shifted his stance minutely,telegraphing his next move.
He thought I was struggling. He thought I was on the edge of defeat.
I had learned long ago that people fought differently when they believed they were winning. When they were comfortable.
They got sloppy. They got confident. They left themselves open.
Darian was comfortable.
That was his mistake.
His next punch came faster, more aggressive, his confidence building with each moment I stayed on the defensive. As helunged forward, I caught the telltale shift of his weight, the slight hesitation before his right foot planted.
Instead of retreating as I had been, I surged forward, slipping inside his guard before he could adjust. In that split second, I saw his eyes widen with confusion.
Too late. I was already moving.
My body didn’t hesitate. It remembered. It always did.
I twisted, ducking beneath his outstretched arm and pivoting swiftly behind him. My fingers caught his wrist mid-strike, my foot hooked around his ankle.
The world slowed. Not in the way battle always did. Not in the way the body braced for impact. No, this was more. A hum beneath my skin. A knowing. I could feel each individual muscle moving with a smoothness I’d never experienced before.
Before he could recover, I drove my shoulder into his back, twisting his captured arm behind him as we fell. The impact knocked the breath from him in a satisfying whoosh as we hit the ground, my weight pinning him, my knee pressed against the small of his back, his arm twisted at an angle that wasn’t quite painful but made movement impossible.
For a heartbeat, silence hung over the training yard. Then Darian let out a startled laugh, tapping the ground with his free hand in surrender.
“Well, fuck me.” He gasped, still winded. “That was... unexpected.”
I released him, rising to my feet in one fluid motion. My breath came fast, but I wasn’t tired. My limbs thrummed with unfamiliar strength. Like I’d only now remembered what I was built for.
Darian rolled onto his back, chuckling. His russet eyes gleamed with genuine delight. “Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I had a good teacher.”
