Chapter 4 Lesson Above #2
She whirled, breathing hard. She hesitated as I stood there, waiting, the multiple copies of me lined up in a row, patiently facing her.
This part of training was essential. If our Vessels could distinguish between illusion and reality, even just once, their odds of survival were significantly higher.
She took one step back, then another. As though she were running calculations in her head.
And then she stopped moving.
Her chest rose once—sharp, sudden—then held. Her pupils dilated, and she threw back her shoulders.
I sensed it the moment before she moved. The dagger flashed through the rain in a perfect, vicious arc, flying straight toward me.
My fingers snapped up and caught the blade mid-air, stopping it a breath before it could pierce through my sternum. "Too slow."
Her chest heaved as she glared at me, her lips trembling slightly. I let the dagger evaporate.
"I found the right one, didn't I?"
She had. That clever little mortal.
I inclined my head, and the illusions around me faded, revealing only the original.
"You did," I said. "How?"
"If I tell you, will you answer one of my questions?"
"That depends on the question."
"Just one. That's all I'm asking."
"One."
"Who killed Ciradyl Tavora?"
"Who?"
"You know who. My sister. "
"I do not know."
"That's a lie."
"A fae cannot lie."
"You just did."
"No," I murmured, stepping closer. "I did not."
She stiffened as I came nearer, her hands closing into fists at her sides. She did not shy away, though. Not from me. No, that little mortal would sooner cut out her own heart than give in.
"Your turn." I lowered my head and leaned in. "Tell me how you found the right me."
She exhaled. The breath seemed to carry something of her resistance with it. "I chose the real you because the others didn't have this."
Her fingers brushed the agralt chain hanging from my neck. It held a small, round pendant, etched with the sigil of the Thunder Court.
The moment she did, I froze.
She was able to touch the necklace.
Agralt had been forged from the blood and lightning of a god, designed to bind only me. Anyone who touched it aside from me would be shocked by a surge of my own power.
I stared down at her in shock. She looked up at me, shivering in the cold like a drowned sprite, but a resolute challenge written on her face. Miralyte. She blinked away rain drops, and I watched as a thick, water droplet slid along her cheek and dropped.
Impossible, I thought. I reached out, touching her face, running the pad of my thumb along the soft skin of her cheek.
"What in the Mother’s name are you doing?" she demanded, swatting my hand away. "Don't. Touch. Me."
She stepped away from my grasp, repulsed. "You think you can touch me any time you like? Is that what you do with the other Vessels?"
I sighed. Foolish, stubborn girl.
She grabbed a long sword from the obsidian platform and faced me, holding the blade in both hands.
"Now I'll land that blow."
I was still processing what had happened. How could she have touched the necklace?
She swung the sword.
"Mind the lesson, Thunder Lord."
I sidestepped smoothly as her blade sliced through the air where my arm had been a heartbeat before.
"I will not be treated like an animal. Or a toy. Is that clear? I'm not here for your enjoyment."
I smirked at her. "Then what are you here for, little dove?"
She stepped close, her lips lifting in a sneer. "Revenge. That's the only reason I'm here."
She swung the sword again.
I dodged, but she followed me with a relentless series of blows, driving me back to the edge of the platform.
Her attacks were quick and accurate, her footwork precise. She had a natural talent.
It was almost a pity that I was far superior in combat. I sidestepped a low swing, letting her momentum carry her forward.
She stumbled.
I took advantage of the moment, kicking her feet out from under her and sending her sprawling onto the wet stone.
"That was pitiful."
I stood above her, and I saw the exact moment her temper flared. She sprang up, swinging the sword wildly.
I didn't bother to dodge this time. I calmly reached up, caught the pommel of the sword, and pulled it away from her.
"Is that the best you can do, Miralyte?"
There was nothing on her face now, no hint of what she was feeling. But beneath the thin, clinging fabric of her shirt, I could see that her chest was rising and falling quickly. With restraint, not from exertion.
No, she was not afraid.
Just angry.
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.
Perfect.
"Some lessons," I said quietly, my voice barely audible over the storm, "require a more... memorable approach."
Her eyes widened as she realized my intent.
I released my hold.
She plummeted into the darkness below, her scream swallowed by wind and thunder.