Page 78 of To No End

“I’ll be back when you’ve got her decently up to speed. Then we will practice two-on-one.”

“I’d like that…” Cairis replied with a smirk and a wink.

“I bet you would,” I said snarkily while parting ways and making my way toward Varro. I didn’t dare look, but I could feel Trace’s eyes on me as I paced toward my new sparring partner.

“Hello, friend.” He smiled nonchalantly.

I looked up at him, giving him no signs of amusement. “Guess I’m yours today,” I stated, begrudgingly.

“Just today? What a shame.” He looked delighted with himself.

I turned my back to him, taking a few steps away, and as I began to ask, “What would you like to pract—”

I suddenly felt a hard kick against my legs, cutting off my words and forcing me to fall forward on my face.

“What in the…” I rolled over onto my back, infuriated to see Varro now standing over me looking tickled.

He had just attacked me unprovoked. I already felt soreness on the wrist I had used trying to brace the fall.

“What are you doing?” I fumed.

“Practicing the element of surprise.”

Without hesitation, I saw him lift his fist. I rolled away quickly, just in time for him to miss his mark, and stood, readying myself. So, this is how he wanted to play it.

He lunged forward into me, swinging left and then right, each fist missing me just barely as I ducked and twisted out of his path. He was fast, but I could tell he was intentionally holding back. If he wanted to provoke me, he had succeeded.

As he stalked toward me, I quickly ran around him, using the stone podium for leverage. I kicked my foot out and pushed off, jumping onto his back. My arms squeezed tightly around his neck, and my legs wrapped around his large frame.

In a swift motion, he threw his body forward, flipping me over his head and onto my back before him. Right where I had started.

I gritted my teeth, my brow furrowing in frustration. “You’re going to regret that.”

He looked down upon me, unconvinced. “I hope so,” he retorted, and before he could straighten his stance, I kicked my foot out into his groin. A satisfying look of pain and bewilderment spread across his face.

He stepped back, hunched over and coughing. Good, I hoped that took the wind out of him. But I knew better than to let up.

In a move that had taken me a while to master, I did a kick up straight from my back and landed lightly on both feet. I swung with all my might in an attempt to land a blow, but he recovered enough to dodge. When I swung again with the other arm, he grabbed my fist in his palm, spinning me into a tight hug. I writhed, unsuccessfully trying to free myself.

He held me in place with his giant muscular arms, then leaned in close to my ear and said the words that he knew only I could understand.

The sound of the old tongue once more prickled across my skin as he taunted, “Just making sure you need that bath later.”

Enraged with his audacity, I immediately kicked backward against his shin, breaking his hold just enough for me to slip away. He was stronger than me. I was going to have to beat him with speed and agility or by complete surprise.

He stood there; legs spread wide in a stance waiting for me to make my move when I took off running straight toward him. I faked a quick movement to make him think I was going high,then I immediately ducked low to slide between his legs and ended up on the other side of him with his back once more exposed to me.

But before I could take advantage of his vulnerable position, he twisted around quicker than I expected and grasped my neck tightly in his hand, holding me in place and keeping his arm locked straight so my strikes couldn’t reach him.

He looked at me, expecting me to yield, but that was not going to happen. He squeezed tighter, but I did not react. He shoved me back against the stone post and squeezed harder. The pain of his iron grip around my neck began to cut off my airway, and I winced.

“Yield,” he said, cocking his head at me proudly.

I said nothing.

When I remained silent, he began to tighten his grip so much that he lifted me off the ground, my back still against the podium and the tips of my toes now barely grazing the floor. I was feeling the lack of breath, my face growing red.

There was a brief exchange between our gazes, his blue eyes piercing into me as I felt my consciousness beginning to teeter. I felt wrong for enjoying the intensity of his stare—and his hand around my neck. I reasoned it was probably the lack of blood flow getting to my brain.

---