Angered on Dess’s behalf, Thia stepped in front of him. “Considering I can’t even manage a strike without an opponent, I’ll take my chances.”
Oskaren strode toward them, unsheathing the knife from her belt. “You’re right. You’re never going to become an expert in time to face Xercae.”
She stopped in front of Thia, glowering down from her impossible height. Thia swallowed. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
“There’s no point in teaching your body to thrust down, at least not right now,” the other girl said, glancing at Dess before settling on Thia’s face again. “You’re never going to meet an opponent shorter than you.” She wrapped her hand around Thia’s.
Thia froze. Oskaren eased her fingers open, touch light, and took the stick from her. Then she tossed it to the ground and slid the knife hilt into Thia’s palm.
“What you need are a few life-saving tricks. If you don’t get home…well, maybe you can learn properly then. Or you’ll be dead.”
Thia didn’t think it was a threat, just a statement of fact. She told herself she was trembling from fear and not the other girl’s invasion of her personal space. She wet her lips and could have sworn Oskaren tracked the movement. “Is this you helping?” she asked, mortified when it came out as a near squeak.
Oskaren smirked. “I believe the words you want arethank you.”
“Funny, I didn’t hear a thank you when we broke you out of prison.”
Oskaren leaned down. Thia’s eyes widened, wondering what the other girl could possibly be doing as her mouth brushed past Thia’s cheek, breath tickling her hair. That same nutty scent washed over her—she placed it now as hazelnut—and she wondered if it was some local cologne, or if that was just how the girl smelled. When Oskaren was over Thia’s ear she paused, then whispered, “Thank you,” with a blend of humor and gentleness that sent Thia bright red.
She pulled back, desperate to see the girl’s face. But Oskaren had already turned and was rolling out her shoulders like she was prepared to fight. Dess looked askance at Thia, and she shrugged, even though she knew exactly what that was.
Flirting. It wasn’t the first time, but Oskaren’s comments had always been cool, biting. A way to create space. This was about bringing Thia closer. She frowned, recalling Dess’s warnings about games.
But then Oskaren barked, “Positions,” and Thia was forced to halt her contemplations.
Dess settled into a fighting stance, and she did her best to copy it.
Oskaren prowled between them. “Good,” she said, inspecting Dess. Then she tapped Thia’s shoulder, so light she almost didn’t feel it. “Lower this.”
Thia did so. The knife felt strange in her palm, though more comfortable than the stick. More deadly also, and that was not comforting.
“Dess will be Xercae,” Oskaren said. “We know she wants you alive, which means you may have a chance to get close to her without being disintegrated by her magic.” She paced, hands comfortably intertwined behind her back. “But she’s also bigger, faster, stronger, and altogether more practiced at killing. I doubt you’ll land a cut.”
“Your belief in me is inspiring,” Thia muttered, and Oskaren’s lips twitched.
“The point is, she will likely trap and bite you, as she did before. You’ll have moments before the poison takes root. That is your chance.”
It was a fair point. But one Thia could not concentrate on as Oskaren’s grip returned to her wrist. Again, the impact was light, almost like the girl was afraid to touch her. Though how that squared with the whisper in her ear, Thia didn’t know. Or maybe she did, but the implications of that werenotsomething she was prepared to think about.
“When you strike, strike with your body, your arm. Not your wrist.” She guided Thia forward through the motion, her hand sliding to Thia’s elbow to direct it forward, her other on Thia’s shoulder. Then she stepped back abruptly. “Try again, with all your strength.”
Thia did. Her wrist snapped with the movement, not enough to hurt, but definitely not comfortably.
Oskaren shook her head. “Not enough body. Your wrist shouldn’t twist at all. Again.”
Thia did, focusing on her shoulder and torso. It felt—good.Powerful. She beamed at Oskaren, and the girl’s mouth parted.
“That was—” She cleared her throat. “Much better.” She waved a hand. “Dessfar, here. Attack her as if you were Xercae.”
Dess’s mouth flattened with sympathy. “Sorry in advance.”
Thia dropped into her ready position as he approached. He put his hand on her shoulder. She turned, trying to shove him off. He caught her other hand. Then suddenly she was pinned against his chest, his thick arms around her shoulder, head poised as if to bite her.
“Stay there,” Oskaren said. “Thia.”
“Yes?” Her voice was muffled, pressed into Dess’s shoulder.
“Your hands are still free. Turn as much as you can, then strike just under his ribs, as we practiced.”
