Page 18 of The Curse of Golden Blood
And I could work with that anger.
I let go of the sword, and it vanished before hitting the ground.
"Get up," I commanded. "You failed."
Her voice dropped to a poisonous hiss. "No, I didn't."
"I said you failed. Now, drop the attitude and apologize."
"For what transgression?"
"You heard me. All of this temper, all of this arrogance, is useless unless you are able to channel it effectively."
She grabbed a new blade and tossed the empty sheath away. "You are a craven, Zydar of Thunder."
I chuckled softly.Oh, she really did have a spine. To hear her hurl insults at me without a hint of trepidation . . . It was impressive.
"Face me without your magic and your fancy tricks. Face me like a warrior would, rather than a ghost hiding behind his illusions."
I smirked at her.Was she ready to learn that I didn't need illusions?
I opened my arms wide, exposing my bare chest. "Then come and claim your victory."
In one smooth movement, she whipped the sword back and swung it high over her shoulder, brandishing the blade like an axe. Then she launched herself forward, closing the short distance between us. I didn't have time to blink before the edge of the sword was arching toward me, whistling through the air.
I reached out and grabbed it by the blade, seizing it firmly in the center between my fingers.
I didn't even break a sweat.
She snarled like an injured feline, wrenching the blade in an attempt to dislodge it from my grip.
"Is this how you fight those you despise? Is this the extent of your skill?" I tilted my head and bared my teeth. "Yield. This victory is not yours to claim."
She growled at me, showing her white teeth. I glared back at her, willing her to quell her rage.
Her nostrils flared. "No. I never yield."
I let go of the blade in response, and she stumbled backward, her heels bumping the edge of the platform.
I rose from my crouch and approached her. I moved deliberately, stretching my wings out to the sides, knowing full well the appearance of them under the storm.
"Yield."
She straightened her spine as I stepped closer, squaring her shoulders and gripping the sword.
She was at the end of the obsidian ledge now. There was nowhere else for her to go.
I knew she saw it, too, the drop from the steep edge. The lashing waves below. Not a pleasant way to die, no matter the body you were in.
"Nowhere left to run, little dove."
She was a fighter, this girl, and she did not hesitate. She charged forward, a scream tearing from her throat. Like a blazing arrow, she flew toward me.
My hand snapped out.
I grasped her throat and lifted her effortlessly, fingers pressing into soft flesh. She kicked and thrashed, mouth opening in a silent gasp.
For a moment, I held her suspended there, rain streaming between us. Her golden eyes blazed with fury even as my grip tightened around her windpipe. Still defiant. Still unbroken.
