“Better,” Duncan murmured. He stepped back. “Now, again.”
She barely had time to prepare before he moved. This time she lifted the sword to meet his, bracing herself for the impact, but the force still traveled sharply through her arm, jarring her shoulder and sending a dull ache down to her fingers.
She winced. Duncan saw it.
“Dinnae fight the blade,” he said. “Let it move with ye.”
“I am trying,” she replied, feeling frustration slipping through, despite her effort to keep it contained.
“Again,” he stepped in, slower this time.
He was guiding rather than striking. His blade met hers with less force, angling instead of colliding, showing her the movement rather than testing it.
“Shift yer weight,” he instructed. “Here…”
His hand went to her waist, guiding her stance just slightly to the side. The touch was firm, both grounding and distracting in equal measure. Elaina’s breath caught for the briefest moment before she forced herself to focus.
“Like this?” she asked, though her voice was quieter now.
“Aye,” he said. “Now move.”
And she did. Awkwardly, but she moved, nonetheless. The motion was unsteady, her balance faltering halfway through, with the blade dipping too low. Duncan corrected it immediately, his hand lifting hers, adjusting the angle.
“Nay, higher. Ye’re leaving yerself open.”
Elaina exhaled sharply.
“I have been open this entire time,” she muttered.
Duncan’s lips curved faintly. “Then we’ll fix that.”
They tried again and again. Each movement felt just as unnatural as the last. Her arm grew heavier with each strike, her grip less certain no matter how many times she adjusted it. The blade dragged instead of flowed, her stance never quite settling where it should.
Then, another strike caught her off guard. The force of it pushed her back a full step, with the sword slipping in her hand before she barely managed to catch it again.
Frustration flared inside of her, sharp and immediate.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, lowering the blade slightly. “I am nae meant fer this.”
Duncan did not lower his.
“Ye are,” he said calmly.
Elaina tightened her grip again, irritation rising beneath her skin.
“Ye make it sound so simple,” she pouted.
“It is nae simple,” he answered. “But it is necessary.”
The certainty in his voice once again left no space to argue. And yet, the frustration remained, because no matter how steady he was, how patient, how careful in his instruction, her body refused to follow.
Another attempt caused another misstep. The blade tilted wrong again, her balance shifting too far forward this time before she caught herself. Duncan reached out, steadying her once more before she could stumble. His hand lingered for a fraction longer than needed.
“Again,” he ordered.
Something in her snapped. The word struck sharper than it should have, cutting through what little patience she had left. Elaina stepped back, lowering the sword with more force than necessary.
“This is useless,” she said, shaking her head. “I cannae even hold the thing properly.”
