He looks down at me, tenderness softening in his eyes. “Anytime, Eirabella,” he says softly. “Anytime.”
The world isnothing but the roar of water and the ache in my muscles. Master Tavyn has me on the edge of my limits, and I can feel my strength fading, but I refuse to give in. A giant wave nearly the width of the entire field is crashing toward me, and my hands glow with magic as I try to hold it back, the strain threatening to rip me apart from the inside.
"Push harder, Eira!" Master Tavyn’s voice is sharp, but there’s a trace of encouragement there, even if it’s buried under all the yelling. The ground beneath me is slick, my boots slipping as I plant them in the mud, trying to brace myself.
“I am!” I shout back through gritted teeth, but my voice is swallowed by the sound of rushing water. I’m exhausted, every fibre of my being screaming for me to stop, but I won’t. Not until he says it’s enough. Not until I’ve proven I can handle it.
The water surges closer, and the shield I’ve built thins and shakes. It feels like trying to hold back a river with a spoon. I know I’m close to my breaking point, and so does Master Tavyn.
I know he senses it, but he doesn’t stop.
And he won’t; I told him not to, not until it becomes life-threatening.
I squeeze my eyes shut and drag the last of my magic from its reserves and with both hands, focus all my energy to push the wave back in one swift movement.
Everything freezes midair for one second, and then Master Tavyn’s wave dissolves into a fine mist.
“Good, Eira!” he praises me. And before I can take a breath and enjoy my victory, he shouts, “Now block this!”
The clang of steel echoes through the training yard as Master Tavyn unsheathes his sword and brings it down, two-handed, crashing it toward my head. I duck out of the way, and lift my arm over my head to block with my shield. My muscles scream in protest, every inch of my body soaked in sweat. My legs feel like they’re on fire, and I’m pretty sure my arms have turned to lead.
But I’m not stopping. Not yet.
“And again!” he warns, pulling his sword back and then readying for another downward strike. I block it with my shield just in time, before dropping the shield to my side.
“Don’t let that guard down! I didn’t say we were done. Again!” Master Tavyn’s voice is relentless, almost as sharp as the blade in my hand. He’s pacing back and forth, watching me with that hawk-like gaze of his. I’ve only been training daily with him for a few days, but in that time, I’ve learned one thing: the man does not take it easy. Ever. Good. I’m not going to beat Selene any other way. “You asked for this, don’t forget!” he taunts as he jabs forward and jumps back just in time to avoid a sword through the stomach.
“Because who doesn’t want a third round of almost dying,” I mutter under my breath. My legs wobble as I square off against him again.
“Did you say something?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes.
“No, Master. Just thinking about how much I love yourmotivational speeches, they’re really rousing and encouraging,” I shoot back, managing a sarcastic smile.
He snorts. “Good. Now stop thinking and just do.”
Sick of being on the defensive, I lunge forward with ice shards shooting from my blade as I pour my energy into it. My magic flares through me, and it starts to feel raw and wild, like trying to catch the wind with bare hands, but I rein it in, the way Rylan has drilled into me, controlling it. I swing harder, the air crackling with elemental power as I push myself past the limit.
My grip firms as Master Tavyn lunges, ducking out of the way of my projectiles, his sword cutting a sharp arc toward my head. But I’m ready this time. I shift my weight, stepping into his movement rather than away from it, and bring my blade up in a strong parry. Our swords collide with a jarring clang, but I don’t falter. I push hard, forcing his sword up and away, using his momentum against him.
For a split second, I have the upper hand. I can feel it. His stance shifts, and his balance wavers. I see the opening—a clear path to strike. But something in me hesitates, the thought flickering in my mind too long. What if I overreach?
That’s all it takes.
He recovers instantly. With a sharp twist, he brings his sword low in a sweeping motion aimed at my side. I try to react, but my hesitation costs me. His blade grazes past my guard, and I stumble back, barely managing to deflect his strike before it lands solidly. The force drives me off-balance, and I can feel the heat of embarrassment rising in my cheeks.
He steps back, eyes narrowing in quiet assessment. I grit my teeth, knowing I lost the edge—because I doubted.
“You’re hesitating, girl,” he says sharply, stepping back as I steady myself. “Stop overthinking it. It needs to become second nature. The moves are in you. Let instinct guide them.”
“I’m trying!” I pant, my chest heaving as I struggle to stay upright. “I’m just—”
“Thinking too much again. Stop holding back. Again!”
I take a deep breath, nodding, though I can feel my body protesting every movement. Why did I ask him to push me so hard again? Oh, right. Because I’m an idiot with something to prove.
As I’m positioning myself to execute a swift cut to Master Tavyn’s side, I notice the smallest flick of his wrist, one I know too well. I look up to see a swirl of water building overhead, and lowering down to me. I drop my sword and lift my shield again, using it as the starting point for a thick ice barrier to hold the water spiral back. But it’s late in the day, and this is the third of three training sessions, each that has drained me of every last ounce of magic and energy.
The water spiral pushes down on me hard and fast, my lungs burn as I try to draw energy from it, and make it my own, but Master Tavyn has his magic blocked too well. I’m on my own.
