While he stayed on the balls of his feet, I stayed on my heels. It made me anxious, like my legs were lumbering.
He was quick on the attack, lighter, and had more energy. I conserved my energy, reading his weaknesses and gaps in his style until I felt I had a good understanding of his rhythm.
Then I switched stances.
Culiar’s eyes widened as I pressed forward after backpedaling for two minutes straight and defensively parrying his strikes.
It began when my ass bumped against the fence and I spun. He was ready this time and gnashed my kneecap with his dagger. I stutter-stepped with a grunt, limping the rest of the way through my spin.
His sword hit me in the belly—a harshsmacklike a club that threatened to steal the air from my lungs. All the endurance training had prepared me for such a blow, and Culiar was nowhere near as strong as Lukain.
I practically felt nothing as I bounced off his attack and began swinging my arms in deadly, controlled scythes that made him growl at me.
“That’s a good bitch!” he rasped, trying to get in my head. “Come at me.”
I clenched my teeth and focused on his lanky body. He punched out with his dagger-hand, trying to straighten me up. I bobbed right and caught his hand under my arm, squeezing my bicep down, pinning him against my armpit and ribs.
Then Iyanked, forcing his momentum, throwing him off-balance into me. My sword-hand came down and banged the wooden blade against his wrist.
Culiar yelped, immediately releasing his hold on his dagger.
I tried to twist to break his arm, but his leg came up and he kicked me square between the legs.
Thathadn’t been part of the endurance training—Lukain had never cunt-kicked me—and the pain was brutal, zinging through my body in an instant and filling my belly with dreaded nausea.
I doubled over to grab at my crotch—
Only to reel up with my head as Culiar drew close to try and finish me off.
The back of my head crunched against his jaw and blood sprayed. I thought I saw a sliver of tongue fly out from biting down on the muscle, but that could have been gore.
Regardless, Culiar was dazed, stumbling backward.
I charged with a vicious yell, discarding my dagger to hold my sword two-handed and slamming it over and over again into his side. I heard a rib crack.
Culiar groaned, trying desperately to defend himself. He dropped his sword and went bare-fist—
I kicked him in the balls before he could get his guard up, returning the favor. And unlike with me, my attackdiddouble him over.
His head came to my waist, on his knees. His neck looked supple and open, and I stared down at it like I was a vampire ready to lunge at my next meal.
Culiar lifted his head, eyes determined to the last—
As I brought down my sword against his clavicle.
It snapped, clear as a spark in the bonfire.
Culiar wailed.
My boot came up and silenced him, crunching into his face and pushing him onto his back.
He thudded on the ground, arms flying limply to his sides. Blood trickled down his chin and mouth. His eyes were dazed beneath his lids.
I lifted my sword to swing down for good measure, the curtain of anger behind my eyes taking over.
“Match, Sephania,” Master Lukain calmly announced.
As if the clouds had parted, I blinked wildly and came back to my right mind—blade lifted above my head for a potential killing blow.
