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Alora lifted her sword in front of her and prepped her combat stance. She wiped dripping sweat from her hairline and cleared it on her hip before forming a fist steadied by her side. Why was this so difficult now? She was a skilled fighter. She brought down Rowlen many times. And he was trained by some of the best swordsmen in Telldaira’s guard.

But Thalon was the swords-master of the Dragon’s Legion.

Compared to him, she had as much grace and capability as a flailing fish out of water.

Sapphire eyes locked onto Thalon’s bustling figure with intensity and sharp focus. He towered over her as she advanced with hostile speed. If she couldn’t bring him down by force or out master him by skill, then speed would be her next option.

She dug her feet into the dirt and launched before he’d returned to a defensive position.

Thalon swung with little effort. His blade collided with hers in a burst of sparks. The vibration and force pushed her off balance enough that she stumbled backward off her feet and landed back first in the dirt.

Jade howled from the arena wall. Her feet dangled over the edge as she jabbed a dagger into the wood and twisted it between her thumb and finger.

Failing at her magic with a crowd of onlookers felt like nothing next to the humiliation of Jade’s gleeful jeers every time Alora’s ass hit the ground. Again and again. And training would be much easier if she didn’t have an audience. Especially one who wanted nothing more than to see her fail. She wanted to pummel that sneering face until Jade’s skin matched her hair.

Bending aching knees, Alora silenced words of war brimming in her throat and scuffed her boots back. Heat marred her cheeks.

“Your focus was much better that time. Well done. Now, refuse the temptation to be the faster fighter. Chasing after speed is like chasing after Garrik’s Smokeshadows. If you pursue speed, all you will achieve is an urgency in movement. Timing. Control. Fluidity. That is what you want.” Thalon held out his hand with a reassuring grin and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s try again. This time, control the movements. Strike when the time is right with a flow like molten metal. Understood?”

Alora nodded.Easier said than done.

They continued. Practicing defensive blocking maneuvers, disarming her opponent, and handling two swords at once, attack sequences, and hand-to-hand combat when her fingers were too numb to grip the sword. A likely scenario in battle.

“Lose your blade, lose your life. Your steel is an extension of your arm. Wield it as such. But if you’re ever found without it, let your other instincts take over. Elbows and knees first, then fists”—strong fingers tapped her knuckles—“use them.”

White cloth wrapped around her hands with ease. Good timing for her aching knuckles. His hands, though gentle, made her red burning skin sting. She began to wonder if she’d ever be able to fully open her hands again.

Genuine curiosity crossed her face as Thalon finished fastening the cloth. “Why fight with swords and fists when we have magic?”

Most of the warmth from her body drained away into a cascading prickle across her skin.

Alora rolled her eyes and clenched a fist. Knowing that the all-familiar invasion and stripping of her magic could only come from one source.

Thalon noticed her change of expression and smiled. He tilted his head to the side of the arena where the High Prince stood, arms crossed with one ankle over the other, boot tip digging in the dirt.

The High Prince’s face was, of course, covered in a wolfish smirk.

Prick.She sarcastically smiled, showing him her middle finger.

Garrik chuckled.Thank me later, clever girl.

Thalon patted her shoulder, drawing her attention. “Your magic will not always be there to help you.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms up in front of her. “Arms up, fists ready. I want to see your punch.”

“Powerful punches require space.If you’re being attacked, get in their safe zone. Donotgive them an inch. It will be difficult to land a hard blow.” Thalon motioned for her to turn around and carefully came up behind her. “Cross your arms up in front of you.”

Alora hesitated a moment, fighting off a sharp twinge of panic before she reluctantly turned.

Through a heavy, sharp breath, Alora closed her eyes as Thalon wrapped his tattooed arms around her. Something hot and wet ran down her cheek before she realized that she had begun to cry. Her bones felt the unearthly shake as Thalon’s arms loosened. When she looked down at the arms caging her, she didn’t see ink and beautiful, glowing brown skin.

Those arms were white, slightly tanned, lined with red scratched lines from her nails. From the last time Kaine had put her in a choke-hold.

Not now. Please.It was going to happen again, just like on that cliff.Not now. Not now. Not now.

Thalon must’ve felt it. His arms dropped from her. He backed away. “Whoa. Alora? What is it?”

And then, she heard Kaine, like he was standing directly beside her. The monster of her walking nightmares.You’re letting another male put his hands on you? You’remine. And when I find you?—

“I’m fine,” she breathed a sharp whisper and stiffened her spine, blinking away Kaine’s voice. “Show me again.” Alora didn’t turn. Didn’t as much as peer over her shoulder to watch the Guardian’s tentative approach.