Grinding my teeth to hold back my tongue from making things worse for me, I pressed my fists to the ground and pushed myself back up to my aching feet, trying to hide the way I staggered when one of my bruised knees buckled.
With my feet firmly planted on the ground, I leveled Rowan with my eyes. He didn't even bother to get into position this time as he waited for me to strike, his crossed arms insulting. I wasn't a threat and he knew it. Hell, he was in a long line of assholes who could see it from a mile away.
And this time, I couldn't even stab my way out of his assumptions.
Just don't fall again, I repeated in my head as I lifted my fists in front of me, adjusting my fingers that were curled against my sweaty and dirty palms. I moved my thumbs, struggling to find a place to rest them. I had learned the hard way that you weren't supposed to tuck them into your fingers when you wanted to hit someone a long time ago. I also learned how frustrating things could become when the thumb on your dominant hand was broken.
I shifted on my feet as I searched for an opening where I stood a chance at landing a hit. Despite not seeing any that he wouldn't be able to protect with ease, the clearing of his throat had me moving closer. Up until I was two steps away from being within his arm's reach. There, my feet paused, hesitating when a plan of action still didn't present itself like I had hoped it would.
"Now," Rowan instructed, the only body in the field that stood still. The rest were engaged in sparing matches while I struggled I stopped fidgeting and attacking. I knew that once I did, it would end in disaster. I was delaying the inevitable.
I had no choice, I had to attack. It would hurt less to knock myself to the ground than to be knocked down by Rowan. Especially since I had the feeling that he wasn't going to be healing me after all this was over.
No, he would make me rely on the slow old-fashioned way that had me waking up with a fever so early in the dark hours of the morning. Why would he when my own body was the best restraint? I didn't see myself moving much tomorrow at this rate, let alone scaling a castle.
Narrowing my focus to the plate-sized threats that were Rowan's hands, I watched as long fingers drummed against his bicep in a casual illusion that gave away his growing impatience. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Just as he opened his mouth to tell me to hit him again, I was moving.
And missing.
Luckily, this time I managed to stay on my feet when I staggered into the empty space where he had been standing.
"Again."
I turned at the sound of his voice, finding him standing off to my side.
Adjusting my stance, I rolled my stiff shoulders before swinging again.
And missing again.
"Widen your stance. Tuck in your elbows. Again."
I did as he instructed, feeling my stance grow more stable. On my next attempt, I didn't stagger when it didn't land, but I didn't get a chance to enjoy my progress. Instead of just dodging, Rowan knocked my hand away this time.
I let out a hiss at the sting that bloomed to warm my hand while hugging it to my chest. I think I preferred it when he kept his hands to himself.
Unfortunately, he didn't feel the same way.
I felt the sting of his block with each punch I threw and he blocked. Each hit he thwarted had my teeth grinding harder and the sting in my hands and forearms growing. Not to mention the number of bruises I was gaining.
