We follow the curve of the hall, eager to reach them, but run right into the one trainee I’d rather not have to face.
Ascella turns to us, and her face contorts into an ugly sneer as she recognises me.
“You!” she snaps.
The last time I saw her, she was covered in blood after being mauled by the Jarkoreth.
“You nearly killed me,” she screeches.
She’s in my face before I can blink, raising her arm, ready to bring a blade slashing down across my body. I jump back, my heart racing in my chest. Ascella brings her arm back up, aiming for me again, as if she’s trying to cause me the most damage possible.
It’s all so fast. Out of nowhere.
But she doesn’t know what I’ve had to endure these last few weeks just to be standing here. She wasn’t forced to defend every advance, every thrust and parry from Ten, mindlessly coming for me, in an attempt to make me a better fighter.
Iama better fighter.
And againstherattack, I’m not afraid to use my power.
I plant my feet and wait for her next strike. It comes quickly, her speed giving her a clear advantage, a blur of movement of her slender arms. But as she lunges forward, making up the distance she’s missed me by so far, I set my magic free.
Her blade skims off the boundary now protecting me, just like when Crimson attacked me during training with Calix and Ten. Only I no longer need to have any contact with them to draw on the magic and will it into action. There’s a gentle hum as the warmth of the energy wraps around me. I can feel it. It feels like it’s a part of me again, like whatever Aslendrix granted back has grounded me.
Ascella’s face morphs with confusion, but it doesn’t lessen her attack. Over and over again, she brings her arm and blade down, as if she were aiming to do the same damage to me that the Jarkoreth did to her.
“Stop, Ascella. You can’t hurt me.”
“I am a Warrior. You think we back down from a fight?”
“I know you don’t. But this one you can’t win. Drop the knife.”
“Come out from your little forcefield, and we’ll see how good you are,” she taunts.
“That’s enough!” Kalan barks.
She pauses and looks at him, then to Lyle, as if she’s only now clocking who’s with me.
“You have no business here.”
Ascella keeps her guard up, her blade in hand, but her screams have drawn attention, and I look to see Calix and Ten behind her, drawn from the food hall.
“Put it down, Ascella,” Calix lays out the command.
She turns and realises she’s surrounded.
“You’re back? Where’s Crim?”
I watch the question as if it hits Calix like a physical punch to his gut.
“Put the knife down, Ascella.” Ten steps in.
“Where’s Crim? Calix would never be without her. So, where is she?”
Ascella looks around at all of us, seeing the grim and sad expressions we can’t hide. Not from her. Not from anyone.
“Put the knife down, Warrior.”
I take my eyes from Ascella to see the man I recognise from the Great Hall at the feast. Calix and Crimson’s father steps into view. His words—his command—leave no question. He’s issuing a direct order to a Warrior trainee.
