With a growl, I shove that memory away, and whip around with my sword.
A spike of surprise, and then her blade meets mine. She’s fast, I’ll give her that. But not faster than I am.
I advance quickly, eager for this to be over, to be rid of her, to be rid ofany feelings at all. My life is so much easier without them.
She is a distraction. She is a liability.
Her blade does not falter. Thousands of men have died trying to block these very same movements, but she fights back with impressive strength.
Interesting.
It seems that without the mastery of her powers, she has thrown herself into training with metal.
Just like I did.
No. We are nothing alike.Sheisnothing.
My movements get rougher, and she stumbles back, farther into the forest.
“This is a duel, not a scenic stroll,” I say, feeling a wave of defiance from her.
She stands her ground, strengthening her position. I strike again and can feel her wave of pain as she blocks it. She doesn’t move.
Good girl, I think, despite myself.
Even though she’s holding her ground, her confidence wavers. She knows she can’t beat me. She knows she’s going to lose. Her vision glazes over, as if she’s lost in the maze of her mind, letting doubt eat at her.
I get a hit in, just a slight cut down her arm.
Look at me, I want to say.Face me.
Something shifts as she does. Her confidence spikes. Her mouth twitches. She must have a plan, but I can’t even be upset. A wave of pride—from both of us—fills me as she finds her way back to herself.
Still, I say, “You look far too confident for someone with such a lack of skill.”
The barb only feeds her determination. Good.
She matches each of my blows over and over, advancing, forcingmeto back up for a moment. I narrow my eyes, trying to see what she’s doing. Trying to determine if I’m going to let her do it.
She curls around a tree and I lunge forward, suddenly desperate to end this duel, which right now seems more like a dance, like a conversation, like a joining.
And I feel my feet sink as the ground gives way beneath me, trapping me.
I look down and scowl at the pit of sand I’ve stumbled into. I try to move. I’m stuck. I manage to block her next advance.
Did she think this sand would stop me?
Yes. She did. Her wave of annoyance says it all.
Idiot.
I bare my teeth. “You know I could portal out of this, if I believed it would in any way impact my chances of winning.”
“I believe that would be considered cheating,” she says.
I give her an incredulous look, my own annoyance flaring. “And trapping me in this vile substance isn’t?”
Enough. I swing my sword around, and she meets it, her feet stopping just shy of the sand she’s lured me into. She’s at an advantage,being able toactually move her feet, but I have to admit her form is impressive.
