Dust kicks up beneath our shoes as we circle one another, calculating our next moves.
We swing at the same time, and the sharp, clean sound of wood cracking against wood rings through the arena.
Our momentum carries us both into the second strike, then the third. Overhead, horizontal, high, low, you name it. Each blow becomes heavier than the last and flows into the next.
Pale clouds rise and fall with every adjustment and every twirl of our little dance. This one is so much different than the first round we went with one another.
She surges forward again with her weight driving the strike the way it has with every swing. Full commitment, no hesitation, no recalculation.
I step into her space rather than away, guiding the blow past me as I grab her handle and twist my wrist just enough to ruin her angle. Her momentum carries her a half-step too far and I tug her into me.
And my sword.
Had my blade been real, it would’ve glided right through her gut.
“Your weight’s too far forward. That works on Gladian’s big-ass body, but not mine. Adjust your center to smaller, faster opponents.”
She adapts without argument, sliding her back foot out, widening her stance. I can’t read the smirk on her face.
She’s either impressed or pissy.
Who fucking knows.
We shove away from each other, and our next exchange comes faster. Our swords meet in quick succession, and the wood shudders with every impact. Our grunts and groans mingle with the strikes as our chests rise and fall.
Her eyes, surprisingly, are bright with focus rather than triumph.
The air between us becomes nothing more than breaths and instinct. Our movements quicken to the point where there’s no time to think.
Only react.
In a fleeting second, almost as if she’s in slow motion, she makes the same mistake I’ve made so many times with Creed.
She leans her blade back a fraction too far, and her shoulder opens up with it. Without thinking, I slip inside the arc as she brings her arm down, catch her wrist, and step across her. My hips slide into position as I pull her arm and turn.
The realm tips at an angle I haven’t seen because I’m usually the one having this done to me.
She tumbles over my back in a rush of motion and hits the sand with a thud as I keep hold of her arm. One flick of her wrist and her sword falls limply beside her while the tip of mine presses against her heart.
A breath of silence stretches.
Then a quiet laugh escapes me as I hold my hand out for her to take. She stares at it for a long moment.
Slowly, the serious scowl melts from her face, and when her palm interlocks with mine, I pull her to her feet.
“Well, that fucking sucked. I’m pretty sure you broke my gods damn tailbone.”
I snort, but my smirk fades as the silence of the Court startles me.
Not only are the females on my side staring in stunned disbelief, but when I peer over my shoulder, the males are as well.
Kyzen’s smile and wink drag the air from my lungs.
Damn.
I forgot there was an audience.
You’ve got this.
