“Undoubtedly, I do,” he said, voice brimming with mirth. His wrist flexed, sending his blade spinning in a dramatic arc before settling into a proper fighting stance. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Seren. My name is Harkin.”
His lack of formal introduction surprised me, but I sloughed off any lingering thoughts as we rounded each other—eyes locked and weapons raised. Dust swirled about our feet as we moved. The earth was still dry, but the morning air was a warm, muggy presence hanging over us. It foretold the coming of rain, and the clouds from the east approached in agreement.
Harkin wielded his weapon lazily, swiping just shy of my shoulder as I pivoted. I feinted then lunged, blade arcing from my hip through the air. He parried, steel ringing in my ears as his sword clashed against mine.
We both retreated, thoughtful. I regarded him warily, searching for any weakness or tells, and he regarded me similarly. The smug grin never left his severe mouth.
I flashed a brilliant smile of my own.
Harkin stilled, eyes widening the slightest fraction, and the tip of his sword dropped.
I leapt into the opening he had created. My sword arced down upon him, whistling with warning, and he only just managed todeflect the blow. Our attacks became a flurry of movement and sound—dodges and strikes and heavy breaths.
We met each other blow for blow, each of us with determined skill and precision. A cacophony of ringing metal echoed through the yard, and I forgot the world around me. My quaking eased and my heart steadied. There was nothing butthisfight withthisman.
I lost myself to the back and forth, the tensing and straining of my muscles, and the brutal dance of swordplay. I forgot—for a moment—the loneliness that gnawed at my heart. Fighting him gave me the feeling I had been chasing for so long.
Harkin’s blade twisted against mine, and I was forced to take a step back. He leaned in close to me, and I noted the sweat forming at his brow as it did on mine. My eyes caught on his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. Our bodies were almost touching by the time I remembered to move.
His free hand curled around my bicep, pulling me back to him as he whispered in my ear. The curve of his mouth brushed against my skin. “Let’s place a wager.”
“And what wager would that be?” I pulled away, and he released his grip on me. His fingers dragged down the length of my arm, achingly slow.
“If you win, I’ll do anything you ask.” Harkin’s lips were quirked but behind his eyes was something stony. I narrowed mine in response.
“Obviously, I’ll win. Shall I give you my request now?” I smirked, eyes trailing up the length of his body as I circled him—once, twice. He nodded in feigned consideration.
“You think on that request, just in case, but if I win…” Harkin stepped past my guard in a sudden movement I had not anticipated. Hestopped at my side, head tilted to the left to gaze down at me. His fingers brushed my chin so, so softly, and I swallowed. “If I win, you’ll show me your mágik. Put on a little show for me, right here in front of your fellow Guardians. What do you say?”
I stilled, mind whirring as I processed the words he had just said. I tried to pull away, but his fingers dug into my jaw, his softness a false memory. “Who are you?”
“You forgot my name already? Pity. I introduced myself not ten minutes ago.” Harkin released his hold on me and stepped back, slowly sheathing his sword as he did. “My name is Harkin Aranti. I can see the confusion on your face, but I know you’re intelligent so I won’t play games. I am not a Guardian. I’m sure you’ve already gathered that.”
I won’t play games. I would have laughed from the absurdity of it all, had the breath not left my body.
My eyes darted around the courtyard, seeking a commander, an instructor, anyone who might notice the situation I now found myself in.
Harkin tutted. “None of that, Seren. You can handle this on your own. You are more than capable, and besides, I have no interest in harming you. In fact, I want you to respect me. I hope you'll even trust me someday. So, this challenge continues. I’ve seen how you respond to competence so I will earn your respect by besting you in this fight, and when I win, all you have to do is show me what mágik you have hidden beneath that armor.”
Harkin trailed his fingers right down the middle of my breastplate, then back up, settling just over my heart with the firm rap of bone on steel. He stepped back, arms spread wide as if unconcerned by the blade I raised between us.
My heart pounded a wild rhythm, hands trembling. My breaths came up short as I tried to force the panic down and the air into my tightening lungs. My racing thoughts were uncontrollable.
Nearly a full minute had passed before I managed a response. “I have no mágik. How dare you accuse me of such heresy.”
“Hmm. Well, that is simply untrue, but I suppose I can forgive you. Perhaps you didn’t know the truth, but surely you’ve had an inkling. A rush of strength you couldn’t identify? Some unexplainable occurrence when you let your emotions take control?” The memory of the faucet rose within me, the way the water had latched to my retreating fingers. But I could not think of that now.
My panic passed, replaced with cold anger. Harkin was the enemy. I didn’t know how he had infiltrated the Guardians, nor where he had conceived such ridiculous notions about me, but I did know that it was my responsibility to dispose of the threat he posed.
I rocketed forward, sword biting at Harkin’s exposed torso. He did not block or dodge, only watched me with that same half grin. My satisfaction rose as the tip of my blade sank home, but the feeling was quickly replaced with shock. An impossible resistance fought against me, and I strained with the force of it. My sword did not slice into his gut as it should have. Instead, it was held in frozen suspension, a mere whisper from his body.
“Surely, you did not think it would be so easy. I plan to win this wager, after all.” Harkin drew closer, smiling—stillsmiling. I was driven back, the pressure on my blade too strong for me to fight against.
“Rázuri,” I whispered, tasting venom on my tongue. “Feel free to say your prayers while I call upon the Gryffem to drag you to the Underworld.”
I struck again, only to find my blade wrenched from my grip by some invisible force. My fingers ached where they bent, sharp against the pounding in my skull. Steel landed in the dirt with a dull thud.
Harkin had not moved, but his brown eyes danced in enjoyment. He turned his head, glancing around the training grounds, and a look of disappointment crossed his face. I followed his gaze and noted, with a pang of fear in my belly, that nearly all of the Guardians had cleared away, likely on their way to enjoy their afternoon off duty.
