He recovered quickly and lunged again, this time going high with a palm aimed at her throat.
I tensed.
She blocked it, her forearm swiping up, and slid in close, her shoulder catching him in the ribs. The breath huffed out of him, and before he could react, she twisted and brought her elbow up into the meat of his arm, knocking it wide.
Her movements were precise. Clean. She fought like a blade in motion. Sharp, with nothing wasted. Every pivot, every breath, and every blow had been calculated. She didn’t fight to overpower. She fought to win.
I tracked her stance, each calculated turn. She didn’t just react, she read Maddox three moves ahead, stripping him down with the same unhurried certainty I’d seen in assassins. But where they were cold, she was molten.
She fought to dismantle, and fates help me, but I wanted to watch her do it forever. The others might see technique, but I saw art. She didn’t waste energy on showmanship. No flourish, no needless spins. Just the quiet, devastating efficiency of someone who knew exactly where to cut someone to make them drop.
Part of me wanted to spar against her myself, to feel the precision of those blows reach my own guard. The rest of me wanted to worship her for how she moved. She could kill me in ten different ways, and I’d thank her for every one.
Maddox snarled, his face florid. “Is this all you got? Stop dancing around.”
Isi didn’t answer. Her eyes remained flat. Focused. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.
He charged.
This time it was messier, with fists flying, bodies lunging, but Isi ducked, turned under him, and drove her knee into the back of his thigh. He buckled. She spun with him and shoved him forward, his palms hitting the mat as he caught himself mid-fall.
She gave him space. Let him scramble up onto his feet again.
It was respectful. Almost.
The muscles in her back rippled as she moved, the soft sheen of sweat on her face and neck catching in the torchlight.
Maddox was panting now.
“Come on,” he hissed, gesturing with both hands for her to advance within striking distance.
She tilted her head. “Are you ready to admit defeat yet?”
Maddox snarled, but I almost laughed. Fates, she’d kill me one day with that sharp tongue and the way she never, ever gave ground. At least I’d die smiling.
A few of the warriors chuckled. Bryson grinned and nodded slowly. I bet he’d seen this in her all along.
Maddox cursed and leapt, aiming for her shoulder in a move that would’ve bowled someone else over. But Isi dropped low, spun behind him, and swept her leg out. He stumbled, almost fell, and she didn’t wait.
She was on him before he could regain balance. Her fists were a blur. One caught him in the side, the next in the shoulder. When he turned to block, she let him, and used his defensive shift to drive her heel into the back of his knee.
He went down hard, thudding on the mat.
A flutter to my left almost made me look, but I couldn’t drag my gaze from this match.
I’d fight the very fates themselves for this woman even if they demanded I let her go. She didn’t know it, but she’d already won me.
Maddox wheezed, rolling onto his back in time for her to straddle his chest and pin his wrists to the mat. Her knees bracketed his ribs.
He bucked.
She leaned in enough to remind him of who held control.
“Say it.” Her voice came tight. Her chest rose and fell, her lips parted as she breathed. Some of her hair had come loose, tendrils curling across her cheeks and throat.
Maddox squirmed beneath her. “Fucking get off me.”
“Say it,” she growled.
