“I am not a stone mage,” Rakhmonova snapped.
“Well, whatever your magic—”
“Ihaveno magic,” she said flatly.
Luka stopped, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t know that,” he said softly. He’d never seen her in his mage classes, but they were split up by element, and so he had never thought it strange that he hadn’t seen Rakhmonova around. But here she was, telling him that she had no element to control. No magic to wield.
How had she made it into the academy?
“I got in through swordsmanship talent,” she said, smiling grimly, as if she could hear the unvoiced question.
He’d heard of students without magic, who got in through talent in other fields. He recalled hearing that they had to be exceptional in their fields to even be considered.
And yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “All that practice, and you’re still only the second best at swords in the year.”
Rakhmonova’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sayingyouare the best in our year?”
He shrugged. The answer was evident, was it not?
“How dare you! Of all the arrogant—”
She jumped at him with a shriek, quick on her feet, her sword moving in quick, precise strikes.
Luka fell back, remembering what he had always been taught:keep your emotions in check.The one who loses his temper loses the fight.
Where Rakhmonova’s anger fueled her movement, Luka remained methodical, his movements deliberate and calculated. As they circled each other, Rakhmonova grinned nastily.
“Do you really think the instructors would mark thePrincefairly?” She laughed. “If you truly thought you earned all your achievements instead of having them handed to you on a silver platter, then you’re more naïve than I thought.”
Luka frowned, trying not to let it get to him. It had been a secret worry all his life, that he was afforded all the opportunities he got because of nepotism. He wasn’t so naïve to think that his father’s position didn’t influence the way the world viewed him, but he endeavored to make sure everyone knew he had the skills to back up his position in life.
As soon as his royal father had chosen his older sister to be his heir, it was established that Luka was the spare. Just a backup plan.
With one sister born to rule, and another born to make a political marriage, he was the middle child, unneeded and undervalued.
Politically, he may be a useless prince, but it didn’t mean he was useless as a warrior. As a man.
He had skills of his own, dammit.
As his emotions slowly unraveled, Luka struck, his blows now harder and faster than before. Rakhmonova fell back, snarling as she tried to keep up.
Their swords clashed again and again, the sound echoing across the field. Each time Luka thought he had gained the upper hand, Maya found a way to slink out of it, until finally they broke apart, panting and glaring at each other across the grounds.
“Do you still think you’re better than me?” Rakhmonova sneered at him, her eyes flashing. “If I’m just second best, you should’ve been able to beat me easily,Your Highness.”
“Maybe I was going easy on you,” he snarled, goaded beyond belief. He could see that the barb struck true, so he smiled what he knew to be an arrogant smile. “Maybe I was trying to be gentle to awoman. One without magic, at that.”
“I’m just as good as you!” Rakhmonova screamed, rushing him in a frenzy. Her anger has blinded her, though, and he lashed out with a foot, sending her tumbling.
He just has time to sneer down at her, before he felt her hand snag his ankle, bringing him down with her in a heap.
They struggled together, Rakhmonova punching him with her free hand, while he tried to flinch away and pin her down with a leg. Pain burst behind his lip, and blood flooded his mouth. Now incensed, Luka jabbed Maya in quick bursts, trying to get her to break her grip on his arm.
Finally, they came to a stop, too winded to move anymore.
“I’m just as good as you,” Rakhmonova said softly, and it sounded like the fight has been knocked out of her. Her voice sounded…almost sad, now.
“I know,” Luka said softly. Here at the end of this fight, as the dark drew in around them, he could give her his honesty. She deserved it. “You were a worthy opponent.” He closed his eyes, and felt the sweat drip down into his temples. “I had to work for my victory.”
