Page 58 of Spark of the Everflame

We were almost to Mortal City before she finally spoke. Her eyes glittered, her voice full of teasing mischief.

“I’d say that wentverywell, wouldn’t you?”

“Not a word, Maura,” I grumbled. “Not. A. Word.”

ChapterFourteen

Ireturned home that evening with fire still crackling in my veins.

My father took one look at me stomping through the house, and he grabbed two dull sparring swords.

“Outside,” he grunted, tossing one to me.

I didn’t bother arguing.

Though my father’s aging body had put an end to his days on a battlefield, his mind had never really left. Retired and without an army to train, he had turned his children into his new battalion. Until I began working full-time as a healer, he would corral Teller and me outside every single night to pass down his knowledge.

How to fight, by hand and by blade. How to creep up and sneak away. How to spot an enemy’s strength as well as their weakness. When to stand our ground, and when to flee.

We were Andrei Bellator’s most cherished soldiers, and he trained us well.

By now, the routine was so familiar that neither of us had to say a word. A certain nostalgic comfort warmed my too-tight muscles as we fell into position in the open clearing. Lit only by the moon and paint strokes of golden lamplight from inside the cottage windows, we began to move in a wide, slow circle.

He raised his sword high, too high, the blade wavering over his shoulder. Despite my foul mood, I cracked a smile. He was baiting me with poor form, trying to determine how badly my blown temper had clouded my mind.

Though I was quite tall for a mortal woman, I was still outsized by most male opponents, especially the unnaturally large and muscular Descended. Father had taught me not to cower at those qualities and instead see them as strengths.

Smaller means you’re faster and harder to hit, he’d say.Weaker means you’ll be underestimated, better able to catch them by surprise.

But it also meant I had to know my limits. And wasting my energy waving a heavy sword above my head to look menacing was one of them.

“Energy and blood, the two most important resources in a fight,” I taunted, echoing the words he’d so often taught me. “Choose wisely how you spend them both.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Despite his praise, he took advantage of my decision to hold back, lunging forward to bring his sword down at my unprotected head. I feinted left before spinning right, swinging my blade in a broad arc to his ribcage. I nearly clipped him, but he deflected at the last second.

We both pulled away, panting from the burst of effort as we resumed our circling.

“What happened today?” he asked.

My smile fell. “Injured children. Unfair world. You know, the usual.”

“Must be more than the usual to have you this worked up.”

This time it was my turn to engage, forcing his weight to one foot as he sidestepped a quick thrust. I swept at his ankle with my leg, and he dropped to the ground in a smooth roll that brought him right back to his feet.

“You were watching my right foot the whole time,” he scolded. “Don’t let your anticipation announce your next move.”

A novice mistake, one I’d learned to stop doing years ago. The fact that he didn’t point that out suggested he was more worried than he let on.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he pressed.

“I’m fine.”

Before he could argue, I swung my blade in a swift circle to his shoulder. He parried, using my momentum against me to force my blade to my weak side. I twisted in a counter attack, but he knew my habits too well, and his sword blocked mine, the harsh gong of metal on metal reverberating through my bones.

Though I stepped back to regroup, he wouldn’t allow it. He pressed forward aggressively, our limbs and bodies flying through motions as familiar to our bodies as a loved one’s voice to our ears.

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