He is faster than he should be.
I barely manage to move out of the way in time to miss his claws slicing through my skin. He grows with rage. He hates me. He’s always hated me.
He is strong, and the Mavdraks consistently maw about his potential. His father is famous. His drakai is impressive.
He thrives on their praise.
But my drakai is bigger and stronger. My father is more famous. The priestess always pesters Ivar about me. He is my leader, but he has lived in my shadow every moment of the last year.
He doesn’t want to humble me. He doesn’t want to prove himself.
Every swing is an attempt to demolish me.
Jeers bouncing off the walls, making them grow ever bigger.
I want to curl into a ball and sink away into the abyss that is my mind. Into the shadows that squeeze my heart until it threatens to stop beating.
But if I fall, she will face those same monsters. I refuse to abandon her the way I was abandoned. She will not feel what I have felt. Not if there is anything left to be done about it.
Ivar’s first landing blow is to my thigh. I cry out as pain shoots through my whole body. I’m paralyzed. My lungs freeze.
A fist to my head rattles my very foundation, but I am still on my feet. I swing back, but my own fist only finds air.
Ivar begins laughing, and with him a chorus of insults rise up, filling the space like water, until I cannot breathe.
“You’re nothing, Haze,” he whispers in my ear.
I fall to my knees.
My squad leader paces around me like a lion prowling around its prey. He wants to savor his victory.
“You have always been nothing,” he hisses.
I feel his words deep in the empty hollow that is my chest.
Calm anger keeps my body warm. He faces the crowd, encouraging their hate. I stand on shaky feet.
He is fast. Too fast.
I barely see him coming, then I am flying toward the ground, my temple throbbing where he hit me.
Laughter rises up through the cavern. This is what they expect.
A healer cannot challenge a commander. It is a death wish.
“Just forfeit, fool. You needn’t die for your pride.” He cracks his knuckles. “Or is it the girl you truly want?”
I force my body upright with a groan. My expression is lazy, eyes hooded and emotionless.
His smile spreads. “Don’t worry, I’m planning to takegoodcare of her.”
I leap at him, jaw tight, but my fist never lands. One swing after another, Ivar bends and twists and slides easily from my reach. I am far outmatched.
He knows it. I know it. The other Drak watching know it too.
I may not belong here, but I am not as weak as they think I am.
My teeth grow into deep set-fangs. My shame but a weapon nonetheless.
