Chapter Twenty-Three
Wisps of dust swirled around my feet with every step I took. I’d never been to this part of Lantyca before. Here, at the edges of the city, wood and stone buildings gave way to fenced-off lots filled with weapon racks and training dummies, bordered by the outer walls.
Lanterns hung on fence posts lit our would-be arena. I was grateful for the light. Everything looked so flat in the dark, and I still hadn’t learned to judge distances and movement without shadows. I could manage moving about in Sitri’s mansion, but on the battlefield, I’d struggle.
“Tell me, darling, have you ever fought before?” Sitri asked as he led me into one such lot.
“A few times,” I admitted, “but never like this. I’ve been in fistfights and done improvised self-defense, but I’ve never handled a real weapon.”
The Prince shot me a wary glance, and I knew what he was thinking; training me would be impractical. I didn’t understand my capabilities as a demon, and the intricacies of martial combat were foreign to me.
For him, it must have seemed like a waste of time. To me, it was a challenge.
I’d be learning from the best today. When I last saw him in battle, Sitri had been a thing of beauty, wielding dual spiral daggers with as much ease as he breathed. If I ever wanted to hold my own in the underworld, I’d need to absorb that expertise as quickly as I could.
“This will do,” Sitri muttered as he inspected the weapons on a nearby rack.
“The combat we face in the coming weeks won’t be orderly. I see no point in teaching you to fight in rank. For now, we shall focus on fighting dirty, and whatever mess we make of your skills can be sorted out later. I want you to use this.”
When he turned back towards me, he brandished a striking silver weapon. Its long handle had a sharp pommel on one end, and on the other was a huge ball covered in serrated metal barbs. My heart leaped at the sight of it, both savage and beautiful.
“Interesting choice,” I said, “though I’m not sure the training dummies will hold up to that thing.”
But oh, how I wished they would. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around it, to embrace the power of such a brutal tool.
Sitri laughed, reading the desire in my eyes. “It’s fortunate we won’t be needing those dummies, then. We’ll be sparring today. Now, why don’t you show me what you can do?”
He tossed the heavy metal weapon into the air as if it weighed nothing at all, and it plummeted towards me. I jumped backward, barely snatching it from midair before it cracked down on my foot. I snapped my head around to the Prince, anger igniting at his carelessness.
“What the hell are you thinking, Sitri? These things aren’t toys!”
“You caught it, didn’t you?” Sitri asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You are a demoness now. You have more strength, agility, and constitution than you realize. You need only settle into your new skin.”
I blinked, took in his words, and assessed my newfound prowess.
Just how heavy must this weapon be? It felt solid in my hands, weighted, but not oppressively so.
I shouldn’t be able to lift something like this.
I didn’t have the same muscles as Sitri or his demons, and in life, my hedonistic tendencies sapped my meager strength.
My transformation afforded me power beyond what my body was capable of.
I raised and lowered it, feeling its weight shift, adjusting to my new physique while the Prince readied for combat.
He left his weapons at his waist and selected a wooden sword from the rack to serve him. He twirled it around his fingers as if it were half its size. Once Sitri was satisfied with how it balanced in his hand, he took it by the hilt.
“That, my darling, is a morning star. What you lack in grace, you make up for in brutality,” he said. “Show me what you’re capable of. Use its weight to your advantage and aim right for my chest.”
I stared at him in disbelief, lowering my weapon, though Sitri only raised his own.
“I’m not going to attack you with this thing. Give me a wooden one instead.”
“I can handle myself, darling,” Sitri assured me. “Demons are not nearly as fragile as humans. I need to see what you know firsthand. Don’t hold back now, Vapula and his legions certainly won’t.”
My hands locked around the morning star’s hilt, and my teeth clenched.
I didn’t want to strike him. I also knew there was no chance of Sitri relenting, not until I’d given him a show.
With my weapon in hand, I loosed a battle cry and swung straight at him.
He effortlessly ducked out of the way, reappearing behind me.
“Less wind-up, or your enemies will see it coming. Its weight can deliver your blow. You only need to let it.”
“Noted,” I snapped as I reared around for another strike.
This one aimed to sweep through Sitri’s legs. Gravity pulled it into a downward swing. He leaped over the top, clearing its serrated barbs.
A smile crossed my lips. “How’s that?”
“Better, you almost hit a passive target. I’m impressed,” he sneered. “Now, let us see how you handle an opponent who fights back.”
Before I realized what was happening, Sitri charged me.
He became a blur in my vision. I barely raised my arms in time, parrying his sword with the hilt of my morning star.
As it bounced off my weapon, he redirected it, swinging it around to catch me in the side.
I grunted as the impact sent me flying. The air rushed from my lungs as I hit the dusty ground.
When I regained my composure, Sitri stood over me, offering his hand, smiling down at me.
“Good, but you can do better, darling. Try again.”
“I’ll show you better,” I growled.
I pushed myself to my feet without his help and aimed the morning star right at his chest. Sitri’s eyes widened in surprise.
His sword stopped my momentum, but the impact splintered the wood and broke his weapon in two.
Sitri’s backward step just narrowly took him out of the path of my strike.
The hiss of metal on hardened hide told me he wasn’t fast enough, and the scratch it left behind filled me with satisfaction.
Sitri laughed. “You’re a quick learner, I’ll give you that.”
“Thanks, I try.”
The warm glow of pride washed over me, and I basked in it, encouraged by Sitri’s words. I was a quick learner. That was the skill that had kept my head above water in life. At last, in death, it was recognized.
Sitri straightened himself up, dusted the wood shards from his armor, and reached for his belt.
From their sheaths, he drew his signature spiral daggers.
Their three blunt edges converged at a sharp tip—graceful, wicked, lethal.
They were weapons as real as my own, and adrenaline rushed into me at the thought of facing down the battle-hardened Prince, armed with his tools of choice.
My heart raced, anxiety mingling with anticipation.
“Don’t worry,” he called to me, “they lack a cutting edge. I have seen you struggle against agile opponents before. I’d like to see you use your force to counter my speed.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“Fair or not, you’re going to have to learn if you want to survive down here.”
I took a step back as Sitri advanced. He held one weapon low while the other hung near his face.
“Any advice from the expert?” I asked.
When I bumped against the rough wood of the arena’s outer fence, I realized my fatal mistake.
Sitri smirked. “Don’t get backed into a corner, or you’re done for.”
Trapped between an armed enemy and a wall, he gave me no choice but to engage him, to hold him off in the limited space between us.
I swallowed. “And if I’ve already messed that up?”
“If you must fight in close quarters, be mindful of your weapon’s weight and your center of gravity. Don’t bother landing hits. Focus on creating an opening for escape, and take it. Go on, try it now.”
With inhuman speed, Sitri lunged. The first dagger aimed for my shoulder, and I intercepted it with the head of my morning star.
The impact sent sparks flying. He launched a second strike at my stomach.
I barely whipped my weapon around and knocked the knife from his palm.
The morning star’s weight swung out of my control, and I nearly lost my grip.
By the time I’d recovered, Sitri had shifted behind me.
Cold steel pressed against my neck. In the shock of its kiss, my weapon slipped.
A hand as firm as iron swept up my idle wrists. My face met the rough wood of the fence, and Sitri’s body held me tight against it. I struggled, but couldn’t shake him. Even my demonic strength wasn’t enough to overpower him.
“Checkmate, darling,” Sitri purred.
A sharp nip to my ear punctuated his words. I shuddered beneath him. My frustration died out, and the subtle warmth of desire crept across my skin. I went lax, savoring his body against mine. He leaned forward, rocking our bodies against the fence, muscles taut, heat radiating through his armor.
The Prince was powerful. He was lethal. But even with his knife at my throat, somehow, I felt safe.
“Showoff,” I grumbled. “You can let me go now.”
“And what if I’d rather keep you pinned? What if I want to feel you beneath me, thoroughly subdued?”
“Then you’re an asshole and a showoff.”
“Point taken.”
Sitri chuckled as he released my wrists, and I broke away from the fence to shoot a murderous glare in his direction. It only deepened his smile.
“Once more, from the top,” he ordered as he turned and walked back into the arena.
Seeing an opportunity, I snatched the dagger that lay on the ground at my feet. When he faced me, he found its tip inches from his face. Sitri jolted, and his lips parted in a wicked grin.
“Well, aren’t you a devious little thing? I’ll be taking that now, if you would kindly give it here.”