I stepped up onto the mat. “Time to lose to me, Barlowe.” Nothing could make me resist.
The faint twist of her mouth told me she’d heard the challenge under the words. And I knew from the sharp lift of her chin that she had no intention of backing away.
“Rather confident, aren’t you?” she purred, the smooth sound of her voice making my heart kick into gear and my body lean toward hers.
“Well deserved.”
“Noted.”
I loved that she’d used my word, because that meant it wasours.
“Take a moment to catch your breath,” I said with a smirk.
“Why?” The gleam in her eyes told me she would also not make this easy. “Do you need time to prepare yourself to meet the mat?”
I huffed. “Minx, you’re the one who’d better be prepared for that.”
The grin she gave me came slow, almost lazy, but the conniving look in her blue eyes said she was already mapping out how to take me apart. “I believe you’re overdue for a surprise,King Trewyn.”
“I dare you to try.”
Her smile only deepened.
Until she remembered and concern crossed her face. She leaned near, keeping her voice low. “Your chest…”
“Is much better. Someone’s special attention has pretty much cured me.”
Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t say anything else about it. I wasn’t being dishonest; my chest felt much better.
Nothing, not even wounds or a bit of pain, would keep me from challenging her in a fight today.
“What about you?” I watched her eyes that might tell me more than her reply.
Her gaze remained steady. “I’m alright. I can handle this.”
“Then let’s do it.”
While the others sparred on adjacent mats, Isi and I circled each other. My boots whispered over the mat, though her steps were lighter. I already knew she was fast. I’d seen it in the hall that first night. But speed alone wouldn’t be enough here.
My focus narrowed on her. The faint slap of her bare hands on her thighs as she adjusted her stance. The way her braid swayed in an arc behind her, the ends brushing the curve of her spine.
Her weight shifted. I tracked the movement instinctively. She was reading me the same way I was her, waiting for the slightest tell.
I moved first, sending a sharp strike toward her shoulder, testing. She blocked high and stepped back, her boot squeaking on the mat.
She came in low, aiming for my ribs, but I caught her forearm, twisted, and felt the fast thrum of her pulse under my fingers before she jerked free.
“You’re holding back,” she said, circling me, studying me.
“Not yet.” I dragged out the words. “But I don’t want to end this too soon.”
She made a faint scoffing sound and came at me faster. My blood picked up in answer. I let her push me a step, two, before catching her wrist and spinning her past me. She broke the grip before the turn was complete, turning back so fast her braid whipped against her shoulder.
A streak of hair slid forward, sticking to her sweat-slick face. The urge to tuck it back behind her ear itched in my fingers.
She feinted right, and I shifted my weight to counter. Too late. She stumbled forward, deliberately clumsy, and when I closed the distance to take advantage, her ankle hooked mine and she shoved.
I rocked back a half step to keep my balance, grinning. “Filthy, Minx. Filthy.”
