Page 37 of Her Manticore Master

"No," he snarls, eyes blazing with fury and something else. "Not like this. Not because you're trying to prove a point."

The rejection hits like a slap, leaving me gasping and ashamed. What was I thinking? Throwing myself at him like some desperate creature?

"I wasn't?—"

"Yes, you were. And we both know it."

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm night air. "I hate you."

"Good. Hate is safer."

"Safer than what?"

"Than whatever the hell that was."

We glance at each other across the cell, both breathing hard, both shaken by how quickly things escalated. The air between us simmers with unspoken wants and desperate denials.

"Go to sleep, Corrina."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Then stop doing stupid things that will get us killed."

I retreat to my corner with as much dignity as I can manage, but my hands are still shaking. From anger, I tell myself. From humiliation.

Not from the lingering heat of his touch or the memory of how his eyes looked just before he pushed me away.

Definitely not from that.

15

RONAN

The morning brings fresh aches from yesterday's fight, but I force myself through the familiar motions anyway. In this cramped cell, movement is my only weapon against despair and the growing tension that crackles between us like lightning.

I shadowbox against imaginary opponents, my muscles remembering the weight of steel even without blades in hand. Strike, parry, riposte—the deadly dance that's kept me alive through countless battles.

"Fascinating," Corrina observes from her corner, voice dripping with false boredom. "Is this how all caged beasts pass their time?"

"Better than wallowing in silk and self-pity."

"I don't wallow."

"Don't you?" I pivot into a brutal combination—elbow strike, knee to the gut, throat punch that would crush windpipes. "What would you call it then?"

"Survival."

"Same thing I'm doing."

She falls silent, but I can feel her watching as I work through more complex sequences. The confined space limits my options,but I make do, imagining minotaurs and shadow wolves where only stone walls exist.

"That won't work against an orc," she says suddenly.

I pause mid-strike. "What won't?"

"That combination. Too slow. Yesterday's opponent would have crushed your skull before you landed the third hit."

The observation is disturbingly accurate. "And what would you know about fighting orcs?"