Page 27 of Blood Day: Part One

And I executed each move flawlessly.

Not that Master Cedric agreed or even commented. Instead, he gestured at Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two to demonstrate the same movements.

I studied his kicks and punches, wincing when I realized how much power he packed behind each movement.

He’s going to break me in half, I realized as he finished the performance with a deadly chop through the air.

Master Cedric nodded, dismissing us to the side. Then he called upon my usual partner and her new sparring mate. They went through the movements, the male just as intimidating as the one standing beside me.

I swallowed, my heart racing harder and harder as each pair went through their routines until the class came full circle and returned to me.

“Prospect Four Hundred and Seven will be on the offensive first,” Master Cedric declared. “Only defensive moves, Prospect Six Hundred and Forty-Two.”

The beastly male dipped his chin in acknowledgment.

This is going to end badly.

It was sort of reminiscent of my last class, where one opponent had to fail. Only, Master Cedric wouldn’t torture the loser the way Master Peyton had.

He’d just let the loser break and leave him or her to heal alone.

“Begin.” Impatience darkened Master Cedric’s tone.

He must have sensed my hesitation because he bit off the word the moment my feet touched the mat. I wasn’t even in a fighting stance yet, but my sparring partner appeared prepared as he put his fists up to block me.

I started with a kick meant to sweep his legs out from beneath him and came up against a wall of muscle instead. He didn’t try to deflect me. His hard legs bruised mine and sent me backward reflexively without him having to budge an inch.

Goddess, this is bad, I thought, executing a throw meant to hit a pressure point.

That one he caught, his meaty hand snatching my wrist and twisting hard until it popped.

I bit my lip to hold back my yelp.

But I couldn’t hide my flinch.

Or the shudder of pain that shot up my arm.

I still had two more moves to execute, and I was pretty sure he’d sprained my wrist.

Sweat beaded down my spine. Giving up wasn’t an option. I couldn’t fail again.

So I feigned a movement toward his groin with my knee, then threw my elbow upward at the last second in a move similar to what Master Cedric had shown us yesterday.

I caught the giant in the chin and followed it up with a final chop to his neck.

It barely fazed him, his brown eyes blinking at me with that perpetual boredom. Like I was merely a fly buzzing around his head.

“Switch,” Master Cedric said, his command lighting a fire in my partner’s gaze. He struck out with the force of a lightning bolt, going for my neck. I ducked on instinct, using my smaller frame to my advantage.

His elbow knocked the back of my head, shooting an agonizing spike down my neck. But I moved with it and out to the side, just to see his heel coming up toward my nose.

I leapt backward, barely missing his kick.

He followed me, his steps athletic and lithe. His face gave nothing away, his emotionless state making my blood thrum harshly through my veins.

I couldn’t remember how many moves he’d attempted already, just kept hearing Master Cedric’s earlier instructions.

“You are welcome to execute more than four moves on the offensive as well. Four is the minimum.”