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Aimee couldn’t wait to wipe that smug look off her face. “Fencing. Foils,” she said, nodding toward the dueling platform. “Best of three. Whoever wins picks the music.” Or lack thereof.

Talya laughed. “Fencing? You’re serious?” Her gaze flicked to Aimee’s perfectly manicured nails, then back up with a smirk. “Have you ever held a sword? I thought your style was more… accessorizing than actual sparring.”

Aimee traced the edge of one perfectly manicured nail, slow and thoughtful. Let her laugh. Let her think this would be easy. There was no better opening move than seeming harmless. “We’ll see if you’re still laughing when I beat you.”

Talya raised an eyebrow, but the grin didn’t fade. “Your funeral,” she muttered, ducking out from under the bar. She swaggered over to the dueling platform like she’d already won.

Aimee followed more sedately.

They chose their blades from the wall.Aimee tested the weight of hers, turned it once in her palm, then stepped onto the platform.

Talya mirrored her, blade in hand, smirk still intact.

Aimee lifted her foil. Brought it level. Met her gaze across the distance—calm and flat, like still water before a storm.

This wasn’t a duel. It was a culmination.

Aimee and her brother first came to Harbor Manor the summer she turned 18. The family assembled outside to greet them as their carriage rolled up. Talya stood sandwiched between Sarina and Skylen, human and sullen. They’d locked eyes, and it had been a battle ever since.

Talya fell into her beginning stance. “On your guard.”

Then she lunged. Their blades clashed once, twice—testing.

Aimee parried. Talya turned her wrist, snapping into a precise riposte.

But Aimee was already moving.

She sidestepped, blade catching the riposte mid-line, then slid in low—her foil glancing off Talya’s shoulder in a clean, surgical touch.

“Point,” Aimee said, almost sweetly.

Talya blinked.

It had taken less than five seconds.

Besides social climbing, fencing was her stepfather’s other great obsession. A gentleman’s sport, he called it. And he was always eager to get her in front of influential gentleman.

He’d wanted her good enough to entertain—never enough to win.

She’d learned both.

Aimee stepped back, lifted her blade in a delicate little salute. “Maybe accessorizing isn’t such a waste of time after all.”

Talya rolled her shoulder, testing the spot Aimee struck. “Huh,” she said. “You’re good. Guess I’ll stop playing around.”

She stepped back into position.

Aimee reset too. She didn’t speak. Just angled her foil again, calm and unblinking.

“On your guard,” Talya said.

They moved at once.

Aimee struck first—quicker than before, driving forward with precision. Talya twisted to avoid it, her retreat more dance than dodge. Their blades clashed, then they broke apart.

They circled again. This time, Talya didn’t hesitate. She darted in low, feinted left, then pivoted hard. Her foil slid through the gap in Aimee’s guard and tapped her ribs.

“Point,” she said, smug as ever.