He comes at me again.
But I’m faster.
I twist below his guard and land a light tap against his ribs with the flat of my blade.
“Point to the Spiritborn,” he mutters, stepping back, his chestrising and falling with laughter.
I allow myself a half-second of satisfaction.
Then I feel it.
Him.
The bond flares quietly.
My eyes cut to the edge of the courtyard beyond the training field and find him.
Thane.
Standing with his arms crossed, watching. I can’t make out his expression from here, but I don’t need to. I feel it.
The pride.
The restraint.
The heat simmering just under the surface.
I blink, heart stuttering once.
Rian notices.
“Distracted?” he teases, raising a brow. “Should we take five?”
“No,” I lift my chin, my grip tightening on the blade. “I can do this.”
Because if I can’t hold my focus with Thane watching and Calryx trying to yammer on in my head, then what chance do I have against a Fellborn?
I force my breathing to even out while anchoring my feet.
Again, I think. I’m ready.
Rian comes at me fast, but I’m already moving. I parry high, twist low, and force him to pivot hard to avoid my strike. He grunts in surprise, and I use it. I press forward, relentless.
Blade.
Step.
Breathe.
Flow.
Wind whips around my boots as I shift my weight. I guide it, not with effort, but instinct. The magics listens now, not assomething I wield, but as something moving with me.
The air seems to carry me where I already intend to go. I move faster without even realizing it.
Rian counters, but I’m inside his guard before he finishes the motion. I slap the flat of my blade against his hip, light and controlled. A mark. A point.
“Two,” I say through clenched teeth, breath catching in my throat.