“How else would you do it?” I ask, sitting across from him.
He chuckles low. “Covens are such a strange place.”
He gestures toward the guards still training. “Tell you what. Help me train these lot, and I’ll take you to a ball.”
“A ball?” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t want to go to a ball, I—”
“There is a nobleman rumored to be acting strange. Might be infected,” he cuts in, his playful tone dying off into a more serious one.
“Why wouldn’t you lead with that?”
“It is called conversation, Millicent. Not just exchanging intel. Besides, most women go to balls for the music, dancing, attractive men, not to find cursed monsters who might try to kill them.”
“Uh-huh. Do I look like most women to you?” I deadpan.
He slowly looks me over, top to bottom, then pulls a face like he just caught a whiff of something foul.
I kick his knee for the insult, which earns me a crooked smile.
Kalix swats my foot and finally rises, scanning the training floor.
“Who wants to take on a witch? Her magic is restrained.”
Really?He had tosayit? It would’ve been so much more fun if they thought my power was still in play.
Unsurprisingly, no one volunteers—until a younger guard steps forward. He has a freckled face and copper hair braided with shiny beads that glint in the light.
“I’d like to fight her,” he says steadily. His eyes meet mine. They don’t fill with fear but with curiosity.
“Very good, Luca! Let’s see what you got.” Kalix claps once, then returns to stalking the others, barking out corrections.
I step back onto the mat and wait.
“Ever fought a witch?” I ask sharply.
“No, ma’am, but I’m always up for new experiences.” He flashes a cheeky smile.
Flirtatious and bold, huh?
“Get a sword for thisnewexperience, then.”
I move to the weapons rack and select two short swords.
Dual wielding has always been my preference. One blade limits direction. Two lets me flow—strike, spin, and entrap—overwhelm my enemies from multiple directions. Fighting is a dance, and I don’t do linear steps.
Luca surprises me by choosing matching blades.
“I prefer two,” he explains. “Lets me move better.”
I nod as I return to the mat, blades in hand.
I loosen my knees, bending them as I take my stance. Luca mirrors me, then spins, his swords singing through the air before they crash against mine.
I parry and pivot, planting a kick on his back that sends him stumbling.
“Too slow,” I say. “I can read you like a book. Again.”
He comes at me once more, slightly faster, but still sloppy. His wrist buckles when our blades clash.
