𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Sixty-Five

My skin hummed with anticipation I hadn't felt in months.

    I should hate the fighting after all these years. Being put up against my friends, wars, pit fights, all of it was terrifying in itself. And yet somehow, the violence made me feel...safe.

    For a long while, the violence was all I knew. It was my home, it was familiar to me.

    I hadn't punched someone in months—something I never thought I'd miss.

I'd never fought in this body...as High Fae. I'd defended myself. The Weaver and the Attor were proof of that. But I hadn't sparred or sent someone rolling. I could send Fae to their asses as a human, and I was giddy to learn my abilities as Fae.

I watched as Cassian and Azriel were locked in a trance, their focus never straying from the other as their blades collided. When one moved, so did the other. When one struck, the other blocked.

It was a dance. In any other situation, maybe it would result in death. And yet, to me, this looked like art.

It was almost nostalgic. Like a looking glass showing me my past.

But old habits die hard.

I studied both their moves with a Hawkes eye. Searching for their weaknesses, breaks in their stance, unguarded places. Anything that would give me the advantage in a fight.

And believe me, I planned on fighting.

    On occasion, Azriel would forget to guard his left side: a fact Cassian took advantage of many times. Though Azriel was quick, he was able to block the attempts to exploit that weakness quickly. But there were select times when Cassian was swift enough to get it.

    The general was harder to sort out. He was a general, after all. But I was patient. And I picked up a pattern, Cassian often looked like he was going for a  brunt attack and did the opposite. He was sneaky in that way. The only downside to that tactic was, in order to do that, he had to change his position abruptly. He was left vulnerable for a total of about three seconds. More than enough time for me.

Azriel—swift as his shadows—came behind Cassian. He swung his blade toward his back. Faster than I would have thought possible, Cassian swung around, and Azriel's blade was stopped a mere inch away. Cassian grinned, and Azriel rolled his eyes.

I was sure this match could go on forever. Each of the swinging while the other parried or blocked.

"You look like you're about to kill something," Rhys said from beside me, clad in his Illyrian leathers. We all were.

I snapped out of the state I was in, quickly looking over to the High Lord beside me. I raised my brows, "Do I?"

He snorted, "You do. Though I'm near positive, that's your resting face."

I gave him a look. "You're one to talk. You look at everyone like they're a piece of cake." I replied.

He hummed, that same feline smile resting on his features. "Oh, but I'm sure that's just you, Danika Darling."

I rolled my eyes, "Shameless flirt." I added. I might have to make it his permanent title. He chuckled, the sound just loud enough for me to hear and not distract the others. I shook my head at him.

Cassian threw his head back as loud booming laughs erupted from him. Azriel glared at him in his shadowsinger-y way. Cass wrapped his arms around Az's shoulders, gloating about how he'd won before Azriel exited the ring.

The general's eyes turned to me, and a grin spread across his features. "It's the Queen's turn." he embellished with a bow.

My lips tilted upward, and excitement coursed through my veins. I walked to the mount of weapons on the walls. Most were Illyrian, but I was familiar with them all. I debated between daggers—my weapon of choice—and a sword.