Page 76 of Games of Death and Desire

If Bartos shows any sign of being under magical attack, I don’t know if I’ll be able to charge in fast enough to save his life. But I can ensure no one else gets hurt by her chaotic power.

And if Ivy can fight her way out of this test without drawing on her power, maybe I can stop worrying about the stress the scourge sorcerers are putting her through.

If she can’t… then there’s too much chance of her control slipping during so many other dire situations she could find herself in.

My throat constricts, but I tighten my grip on my sword. I’ll do what I have to do. What maybe a stronger man would have done to begin with, glowing godlen sigils be damned.

Ivy might mutter about the work sometimes, but she shows up promptly. She casts a slim shadow across the floor from the open doorway, changed into a short tunic, breeches, and leathers for the combat exercises to come.

She’s got one knife on a belt at her hip, but Bartos can see that for himself. I’ve no doubt there are two more hidden in her boots, but if he plays his part properly, she won’t have the chance to reach for them.

She strides into the hallway with a brief glance around and what looks like a suppressed yawn. I can’t help wondering if this test wouldn’t be fairer aftershe’sgotten a proper night’s sleep.

But life is hardly fair. The scourge sorcerers don’t care how well-rested she is.

My body tenses in anticipation.

The second Ivy steps past Bartos’s doorway, he launches himself at her.

As he whips the rope around her neck, he lets out a brief roar. Apparently he’s going all in on the role I gave him.

He snaps the rope against Ivy’s throat and wrenches upward, towering a full foot over her short body. I flinch at the sight, even though I’m the one who brought it about.

I can’t afford that kind of weakness. I can’t… I can’t trust my own judgment when it comes to this woman.

But I feel strangled myself as I watch Ivy’s frame go rigid. Her eyes widen, blown out with panic, and my stomach lurches in anticipation of how she’ll retaliate.

Bartos yanks her back against him, hauling her high enough that she’s left stumbling on tiptoe. Her arms flail out, but in the first few seconds they’re jerky and imprecise.

Great God help me, is she picturing the noose from her nightmares right now?

I lift my sword with a twitch of my head to clear my vision. If only I could focus my blasted eyes for long enough for my gift to take hold, to witness her next moves before she makes them…

In the middle of my anguished thought, Ivy regains her wherewithal enough to grope for her knife. Bartos slaps her hand away.

I brace myself for her to defend herself the easiest and possibly the only way she can.

Her boots scrape frantically against the floor. Her arms fling out again—but all at once something in her posture shifts.

Her muscles coil, her focus sharpening.

She manages to swing her body to the left, heedless of the rope, and slams her heel upward. It jars against Bartos’s kneecap.

He sways just slightly, but he’s already a little off-balance from her squirming. He bats away a fist she aims backward at his jaw only to take an elbow in the middle of his gut.

Ivy strikes him hard enough to knock the breath out of him. My student pitches backward, Ivy snatches at her knife again—and without any divine gift necessary, I see how the blade will stab straight into his heart.

“Stop!” I burst out from my doorway, dropping my sword with a clatter.

I snag the hooked end of my prosthetic around Ivy’s wrist just inches from the knife piercing Bartos’s flesh.

Bartos drops the rope and staggers out of range. Ivy’s feet jolt all the way to the ground. She stands there, panting and staring at me as if she doesn’t recognize me. Wisps of her red-blond hair have stuck to her temple with sweat.

“Good work,” I say in the easy-going drawl I normally use with my students. I don’t want Bartos realizing I lied about my motivations. “You got your fear under control and found a way to turn the tables. A pass with flying colors.”

She didn’t use a single trace of magic. She mastered herself more than Bartos could realize.

Relief floods my fatigued mind so swiftly it’s dizzying.

---