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My father’s eyes widened.

“Yes,Xivin.” Wrath moved with us, his eyes hardening in excitement.

As if it truly were a life-and-death battle, my father took the first opening he could find and slammed his fist into my chest plate to stagger me back, using his strength against me when he couldn’t outmatch my speed.

I was winded as I stumbled back.

“Your feet,” Wrath repeated.

I caught my father’s blade with my own then spun it around and pushed him back. I punched him in the face then slammed my elbow down on his arm, doing my best to wrest his blade from his grasp.

But he held on with a dying grip, rammed me with his shoulder, and sent me flying back.

I landed on my back—and dropped my sword.

Wrath stayed with me. “Move.”

I rolled out of the way before my father’s death blow came down for me. I grabbed the sword along the way then kicked my feet out in the hope I would trip my father. I felt my shin hit armor, and he lost his balance for a mere second.

It was enough time for me to get to my feet and come at him again. I was dead tired, sweat pouring down my face, winded from my father’s strikes. “Argh!” I came at him hard and struck down his blade with all my strength, expecting him to underestimate how hard I would hit.

His sword dropped.

“Yes.” Wrath stepped away and gave us space.

My father chose to come for me instead of retrieving the sword. It was the right move because I would have gone for his neck. But he came at me with his fists and his size, which was somehow more intimidating than his blade.

He caught my blade with his vambraces and used his sleek armor to deflect the blows that landed on him. He was fast and strong, and his experience in battle shone through. He slammed his elbow down hard on my wrist, right into his thigh—and knocked the blade clean out of my hand.

He didn’t give me a chance to react before he punched me right in the face.

I felt the blood drip from my nose instantly, felt the bruise that would be there the next day.

I ducked his next hit and then the next, avoiding his fists until I finally caught his arm between mine. I forced it down and spun it back before I kicked him in the knee.

He dropped down, and that was when I prepared to slam my elbow onto his head. “Hit.” I didn’t complete the blow, not when a blow like that could do serious or permanent damage to his mind or body.

My father remained on one knee, equally sweaty and exhausted. Winded, he breathed for several seconds.

I stepped back, both of our blades lost somewhere in the grass.

Wrath stood off to the side. There was a knowing look in his gaze, a hint of admiration. Then he gave a nod before he vanished on the spot.

My father rose to his full height and ripped his gloves off his hands one by one. Then he made his hand into a fist and beat it once against the armor over his chest. “That’s my girl.” He walked toward me before he gripped me by the shoulder. “You’ve gotten better since the last time we fought.” He looked at me and didn’t cringe at the blood that came from my nose.

I swiped it away and sniffed. “We used to spar on the ship to pass the time.”

“You’ve learned from new opponents. That’s strengthened your reflexes. Your footwork is better too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a linen for me. “Are you alright?”

I took it and dabbed at my nose. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“Are you sure?” It was the first time he’d shown guilt for striking me.

“It didn’t even hurt.”

His eyes lightened slightly. “Do me a favor, and don’t tell your mother about this.”

“Trust me, I know how she gets.”