Page 64 of The Shadow Heir

Cas’s arm shot up, snatching the wooden dagger Alba had taken from the statue. His eyes never traveled to the weapon. They never even left my face. He twirled the blunt blade in his fingers.

“Shall we even the score?” he asked, eyes still on me.

My stomach flipped over inside me as the heir of the Shadow Court took a ready stance, arms out at his sides, knees bent.

“Are you serious?” I balked.

Alba clapped once. “Better move, Zara, or you’ll regret it!”

Casimiro had already vanished. The flat side of the wooden dagger popped the side of my shoulder, alerting me to Cas’s liquid presence moving behind me. I spun. Panic sprouted in my veins, and heat surged through every pore as sweat and desperation poured out of me. He was going to kill me. Right here. With a wooden dagger.

All because I’d offended him by stabbing him back in my garden.

Another pop on my other shoulder told me he was playing with me. I was just his toy. His sister cackled nearby, slapping her leg like it was the funniest thing under the stars to see a mortal flounder like this.

There was no beating him. Not if he could move instantly and disappear like rising smoke. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I spun away and sliced at the flicker of white fabric blazing past me. My wooden dagger whooshed through nothing but air, but Alba squealed with glee. Tracking Cas as best I could, I turned, dodged, spun, and cut. Again and again and again I hit nothing.

Fury drowned out Alba’s excited clapping, and I honed in on my circling adversary. He knew he had me beat, so he was merely prolonging the inevitable. The side of his wooden dagger slapped my upper arm, my ribs, my thigh.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Or at least I would be if he’d wanted to kill me. I doubted I’d even bruise from the quick taps of the training blade. He was being gentle.

A frustrated growl peeled from my open mouth as Cas knocked the wooden dagger from my hand so fast I barely had time to blink before it clattered to the floor. I whirled on him and stomped my foot, my gossamer dress trailing behind me in the movement and hugging my legs as it finished spinning.

Cas stood still for a single moment, watching me with a slack posture that said he was temporarily stupefied by something. Surely not me.

“It’s nice to dance with you again, Valencia,” he said with a smirk, his sharpness returning.

I swiped my weapon from the floor and lunged at him, this time purposefully not hitting him with my dagger. I couldn’t win by attacking a shadow. Instead, I anticipated his own jab, which I’d handed to him on a platter by exposing my ribcage. A good fighter wouldn’t miss that mark, and he did exactly as I’d planned.

His dagger poked at my ribs, and I grabbed his arm, wrapping my hands around him and spinning into his chest until he was at my back. He was much taller than me, so the move was risky, but it was all I had. I yanked forward and kicked up with my hips, hurling his body—which was lighter than I’d imagined, over my shoulder.

My eyes caught the briefest glimpse of Alba staring open-mouthed in sheer delight as Casimiro flipped onto his back on the polished floor.

But I couldn’t let go. Casimiro had gripped my arm in turn, and I was sailing forward before I could stop myself. The countermove brought me curling into a roll on the floor to save my neck from cracking.

By the time we stopped crashing across the floor, I lay sprawled beside him, breathing rapidly, fully aware of how close he was. He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, staring down at me.

“Now we’re even,” he said through the curtains of his dark hair framing his face.

Alba’s peals of laughter and happy clapping countered the thudding of my heart.

He chuckled as he stood up, then held out a hand as if to help me. I stared at his hand like it was tipped with dragon talons.

“Come on, Valencia, haven’t I proven that I’m not going to hurt you?”

He had. And it unsettled me because I had no way to know what he would do. A fae who wanted me dead was predictable, was easy to hate. Casimiro was…neither of those. I tentatively placed my hand in his.

He lifted me so fast that my feet left the ground briefly before I found my balance. His grip did not falter as I wobbled, our hands clasped tightly between our chests.

“Steady there, little spark.”

I coughed and backed away, unsure if the fae prince had just used a nickname for me or if he’d been attempting to make fun of me in some way. I tried to cram my loose curls behind my ears, but it was little use.

Casimiro bent to collect my wooden dagger from where it had fallen a few steps away, then he handed both instruments out to his sister, who took them with a small smirk and scurried off to replace them on the statue.

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