Beside him, he watched Ena as she took in the space. What would she make of this? He knew she wasn’t a fighter—not in a physical way, at least, and probably had never seen many of these weapons before. But he thought maybe she’d like to try.
Fighting hand-to-hand was a core part of daemonic culture. All daemons were trained to fight from a young age—partially in preparation for future missions in which it might be necessary, but also because it was a great source of exercise underground, and a good outlet for daemons’ natural tendencies towards discord. For what was violence if not chaos incarnate?
“What is this place?” Ena asked, eyeing the weapons on the wall with caution.
“A training facility,” Ty explained, walking over to them.
“So…a place for fighting?” Ena asked, raising her eyebrow in skepticism.
“Yes,” he replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up despite himself.
One day, he should maybe examine his compulsive need to challenge her and push her into new things, but she seemed to like it, or at least tolerate it, and he certainly liked it. He liked seeing what she could do, and he liked seeing how she would react, because she always surprised him.
Ena watched as Turner walked over and grabbed two short swords from the wall, testing the grips in his hand. Ty, of course, grabbed an axe and dagger. His preferred fighting style. They had long swords, of course, which could lend an advantage against an opponent with shorter weapons, but Ty’s training was practical. Mortals and witches didn’t have weapons like that, and to carry around swords in polite company would be to draw too much attention, so he opted for axes and daggers, which were multi-use, and easier to pass off as tools, not weapons.
“Why?” she asked, her nose crinkling up a bit, as if the idea of fighting was foreign to her, which, he supposed, it was. She’d told him that their encounter with the bandits a few weeks ago had been the first time she’d ever had to fight or use her magic against anyone else.
“For fun, exercise…mental stimulation,” Turner answered for him, giving a shrug and smiling devilishly.
“You two are going to fight then?” Ena asked, seeming intrigued by the idea.
“What do you think, Shadow? Should we fight?” Ty asked Turner, teasing him with his old nickname.
Even though Turner was only about a year younger than Ty, they’d been inseparable as kids, with Turner following him around wherever he went. He’d earned the nickname “Shadow” from some of the other boys their age, and he knew the man hated it, so there was no better way to get his goat.
“You fucker.” Turner grinned at him, his blue eyes glinting in the light.
Ty laughed as he removed his shirt, tossing it to the side as he gripped his axe and entered the center of the large, intricately decorated circle carved into the floor of the cave. “Watch and learn, viper. You’re next,” he said with a wink before turning back to Turner.
The two of them circled each other, watching for who would move first. Ty reached out with hisfuror, just a touch, just to see where his cousin was at. The man didn’t usually tend towards anger, but Ty would exploit what he could, just to give himself an edge in the fight. The man might seem nice and well-mannered compared to other daemons, but he was ruthless in the ring, so he needed to take whatever advantage he could get.
Instead of the minor annoyance he was used to sensing in his cousin, he was surprised to sense a significant amount ofuntapped rage. What had happened? Ty furrowed his brow at his friend, who knew his tactics by now.
Turner shook his head slightly in response. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Alright, that made sense. It must have had something to do with Zak—when the utter prick wasn’t ignoring his son, he was constantly putting him down for his kindhearted nature and using him for his own ends. Something must have happened between them.
Ty backed off with hisfuror. He had no desire to get his ass kicked by his angry friend, and he didn’t want to exploit a real sore spot unless Turner asked him to—he knew from firsthand experience that it could be extremely cathartic to let that rage out from time to time, but he wouldn’t do it without Turner’s consent.
As if sensing his decision, Turner struck first. He whipped out with his short sword, swinging for Ty’s head, and Ty met his blow with his axe, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the cave.
Turner spun around and swung with his other sword, this time aiming for Ty’s middle, and Ty dodged it, again deflecting Turner’s strike away with the handle of his axe.
Seizing Turner’s momentary distraction, Ty pivoted and swiped out with his dagger—a beautiful sixteen-inch, decorated blade that he envied—but Turner caught his wrist, just inches from his neck.
But the man had been forced to drop one of his swords to do so, so now he only had one. Ty felt a feline grin spread across his face.
That was just a warm-up. Now came the fun shit.
He launched forward with his axe, forcing Turner to take a step back as he met Ty’s blow with his sword, which he now held with two hands.
“Want to yield, Shadow?” Ty taunted.
“Never, asshole,” Turner said, glee filling his voice.
Ty swiped out with his dagger again, but Turner dodged it. His heart pounded now, and his body felt alive with adrenaline.
This was what he fucking lived for.
