Page 73 of Daggermouth

“You’re telegraphing your left side.”

Lira spun toward the voice, instinct driving her hand to a nonexistent weapon at her back. Callum leaned against the doorframe of the entrance casually, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with that insufferable half smile that lived in the corners of his mouth. The copper and gold of his mask caught the dawn light, transforming the metal to living flame.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice emerged sharper than intended, brittle with surprise.

He straightened, pushing off from the doorframe with all the ease of a man who knew exactly what he did to her.

“Good morning to you too, Li.” His voice was familiar, infuriating in its warmth.

Her eyes narrowed behind her mask. “You don’t have clearance for this facility.” A statement, not a question. She knew every name on the access list. Had reviewed it personally after the last security breach. “No badge. No Serel credentials.”

“I have my ways.” His voice carried that hint of mischief that had always been her undoing. He moved deeper into the room, circling the edge of the mat like a predator assessing territory. “The Veyra security system has . . . gaps. For those who know where to look.”

“Those gaps get people executed.” She remained in the center of the mat, tracking his movements. He was up to something, he was always up to something. “Why are you really here?”

He paused at the nearest weapon rack, fingers hovering over a training staff before selecting it. The wood twirled between his fingers with no effort. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

There it was. The old wound, named and reopened in the space of a single sentence. She should have walked out, but her feet rooted to the mat.

She hated how quickly the tension in the room became a kind of gravity, pulling her and Callum together despite the pain it caused. She hated even more the part of her that wanted to believe him.

Lira ignored the sensation, focusing instead on the practical concern. “If you’re caught—”

“I won’t be,” he answered softly, stepping onto the mat with the staff held loosely in one hand. “Spar with me?”

Lira hesitated. Time alone with Callum was dangerous—like handling exposed wires with wet hands. Every interaction held the potential for shock, for burn from that current that had never quite stopped flowing between them despite her best efforts to sever the connection.

“One round,” she conceded. She could see the smile that formed behind his mask reflecting in his eyes as she moved to select a staffof her own. The wood felt cool against her palm, its weight perfectly balanced.

She took position at the center mat, making him come to her. Callum didn’t hesitate.

They circled each other, two planets caught in a mutual orbit, each calculating the moment of collision. Callum was taller, stronger, but Lira had spent a lifetime compensating for the advantages of men who believed they couldn’t be hurt.

She feinted left; he followed. She swept a leg; he dodged. They moved with the ease of memory, muscle and bone recalling all of their training sessions. His first strike came swift and testing, a simple thrust she parried easily. The wooden staffs clacked together, the sound sharp in the empty hall. She countered with a sweeping low attack that he jumped over with irritating grace, landing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“You're holding back,” she accused, advancing with a series of rapid strikes that forced him to give ground.

“So are you.” He blocked each blow, the impacts traveling up her arms. “Afraid of getting too close, my love?”

The old nickname stung more than it should have.

My love.

What he used to whisper against her ear in those stolen moments before he crushed any chance for them beneath his heel.

She attacked with renewed intensity, channeling the surge of emotion into physical force. Each strike contained a memory she couldn’t afford to acknowledge—his hands in her hair, his mouth on her throat, the way he’d looked at her when he’d first removed her mask. Like she was a miracle he couldn’t quite believe existed.

Callum matched her tempo, his defense shifting seamlessly to offense as he found the rhythm of her anger.

“You’re angry,” he observed, voice barely strained despite the exertion. “Good. Use it.”

“I’m not angry.” She panted. “I’m focused.”

His laugh was warm and knowing. “You’ve never been able to lie to me, Li. Not convincingly.”

The truth of it only fueled her frustration. She feinted high, then dropped low, sweeping her staff at his ankles. He jumped but not quite high enough—the wood caught his heel, unbalancing him. Lira pressed the advantage, closing the distance and striking at his midsection. He blocked, but the force drove him back farther.

He caught her staff with his own, locking them together between their bodies. They stood close enough now that she could see the flecks of green in his eyes through the slits in his mask, could feel the heat radiating from his body.