Page 56 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Azriel didn’t like that she’d overheard them. He glowered at her and tapped his training sword against hers. At the clack of the wood, the round began.

And Sasja didn’t hesitate.

As he’d previously thought, she moved fast. Faster than any dhemon he’d ever seen—aside from himself, though he didn’t count, what with his vampire blood giving him that leg up. She darted to the side and swung in. When he blocked, her other sword came down from above.

Side-stepping the second blow, he let her weight shift forward with the momentum before lunging in on her exposed side. Sasja twisted out of the way, the rattan missing her by a hair’s breadth. Then Azriel followed through with the other sword, swiping up.

The loud crack of their swords connecting echoed off the stone walls. Its impact reverberated up his arm, and by the way Sasja clenched her jaw, she felt the same shockwave.

Around them, the other prisoners slowed their movements to watch. Even the guards turned their attention their way.

“Let me guess…a vampire?” Sasja hissed before ducking his swing and slamming her horns into his gut. “Fang fucker.”

Air rushed from Azriel’s lungs, but his blood burned at the jab. He took a steadying step back and heaved in a shallow breath. She was strong. Stronger than he’d given her credit for.

Sasja stepped closer, and Azriel backed up. Distance was any fighter’s best defense. If he controlled the distance, he had the ability to decide what happened when they first connected. But retreating too much put the opponent in control—something he didn’t want Sasja to have. Though they were training, he didn’t trust she wouldn’t try to kill him given the chance.

So he closed the distance in one long step and swung hard. She parried, forcing him back again—but she hadn’t been expecting the second rattan.

The wood struck her side, and she sucked in a sharp breath, reeling away and baring her sharp teeth. “Bastard.”

“You’re not wrong.” He stepped forward again, still heated from her words. Though the slur had been directed at him, he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to say something similar to Ariadne. He’d been lashed for defending her from lesser comments.

He struck again. She pushed his sword aside and twisted, forcing his grip to loosen enough for her to knock it from his hand. He cursed and blocked the second attack with his remaining rattan.

“Tell me,” he said and twisted away from her jab, “what did Ehrun promise you for joining him?”

Sasja’s face scrunched into a snarl. “Revenge.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. They exchanged a few more blows, her sword smacking his thigh with enough force that he knew a bruise would form by nightfall. “And how is that working out for you?”

He’d struck a nerve. She doubled down on her flurries, and before long, she’d gotten so close he could grab one wrist. Then, after dropping his sword, the other. He kicked her legs out from behind her and forced both of her own training weapons from her grip. With her back in the sand, he pressed a knee into her stomach, balancing just enough weight on her to keep her in place.

“Why’d he send you to Algorath?” Azriel tilted his head at her, studying her reaction.

Sasja smirked. “Liquid sunshine.”

His blood ran cold. He grit his teeth and lifted his lip in a sneer. “Such tactics are beneath him. He’d rather soak the soil with blood than watch them rot away.”

“You’re scared.”

“You’re a liar.”

Before he could react, she pressed her hands against his knee and turned to her side, pushing out from under him. He followed, bringing his body down on top of hers to hold her steady—their fight wasn’t over. But with one arm pinned tight against the far side of his body and the other by his neck, she swung her legs like a pendulum and twisted out onto her knees, where she threw her weight over his back.

Azriel growled. Though he’d always enjoyed grappling, his reactions were always a second too slow when rolling with a smaller opponent. And being a second behind was the difference between life and death.

So before Sasja could wrap her arm around his neck in a guillotine, he swung his feet forward. Hooking one foot under her leg on the same side, he yanked her arm toward him and lifted with his foot. Without her hand to prevent herself from falling, her back slammed into the sand.

That didn’t stop her from lurching up and cracking her fist to the bottom of his jaw. His head jerked back, teeth clacking together, and she took the opportunity to tackle him backward.

He landed on his back, and she sat on his chest, gripping one of his horns. “You’re weak.”

Azriel glared at her. “Perhaps. But I’m not waiting around for someone who abandoned me.”

Sasja’s blue face paled a shade. Her fist, smaller than his but not unlike that of a human man, crashed into his face again and again. She gripped both horns and slammed his head back into the sand, screaming her rage.

And Azriel didn’t fight back. He let her hit him until she finally wrapped her fingers around his neck, and someone was forced to haul her off him. Blood leaked into his vision from a split brow, and that familiar metallic taste filled his mouth.

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