Brea backed away. “I think Evylin is pretty. I shouldn’t care to shorten it.”
Stepping onto the sparring ground, Evylin smiled. It had been so long since she’d held a weapon in her hands. Her fingers wrapped affectionately around the hilt. “Do you prefer to be called Breata?” she asked.
“No,” the woman said with a dry grin. “It is not nearly so elegant.”
“I think it’s lovely.”
Brea let out an amused hum, then settled into a strange fighting stance. She held the hilt angled forward, the blade’s tip pointing over her shoulder, and her feet staggered in a wider fashion than Evylin was used to seeing. “Shall we begin?” she asked.
Excited to test her skills against another Warrior, Evylin’s heartbeat rose. She took her own stance, feet just outside the hips with knees bent to balance her weight and sword primed before her. “With pleasure,” she said.
At first, they took it slow, moving with measured steps. Evylin’s instinct was to leap forward, attacking quickly in anticipation of action. But she knew that was the wrong approach. Hewitt had taught her to fight with proficiency. While she enjoyed flair and tactical risks, he preached a level head and technical adherence. She couldn’t let herself show off—not if she wanted to win.
The moment Brea lunged, Evylin moved too. Their blades met with a sharp snap. Though Brea was almost a head shorterthan Evylin, she struck with equal power, alerting Evylin of the need to increase the strength of her blows.
After three more hits, they both pushed away, readjusting to their new understanding of each other. Evylin didn’t give Brea much time to recover. She corrected her posture and lunged back into the fray. A strike up, then a feint down, before striking upward again. Brea blocked seamlessly, rolling with the hits.
Despite her smaller frame and claim of inferior swordsmanship, Brea managed all of Evylin’s attacks with ease. They ranged across the clearing, attempting to break the other’s defense. Evylin was surprised to find they were more easily matched than she expected.
That is, until Brea drove in with greater strength than before, her sword scraping against Evylin’s as she angled it upward. Seeing her loss close at hand, Evylin took a risk. With their swords locked in a battle of strength, Evylin chose to lose that battle, releasing the blade altogether and spinning away from the Warrior.
Surprised by the abandonment of her weapon, Brea hesitated, giving Evylin the time to complete her turn, brandishing the long-bladed dagger she carried on the back of her belt. She’d intended to simply press the tip of the blade at the base of Brea’s spine, winning the bout, but Brea moved with unprecedented speed, kicking out and catching Evylin’s ankle.
Evylin hit the ground with a thump, and the air burst out of her lungs. When she caught her breath, Brea was standing over her, the tip of her sword grazing Evylin’s chest.
“I concede,” Evylin said self-mockingly.
Brea smiled and reached out to give her a hand. “That was good,” she said with a pleased tone in her voice. “You’re fast. And cunning.”
“She’s a show-off too,” Ethenn said from the sidelines.
“I didn’t show off that time,” Evylin said, brushing the dirt from her pants.
“That’s what you think.”
Evylin tossed the practice sword to him. “I’ve warmed her up for you,” she teased.
“Great,” Ethenn returned. “Now, I’ll look like an even bigger failure.”
“Stop being modest.” Evylin punched his shoulder as he approached, then turned to Brea. “He’s beaten me many times.”
“Has he?” Brea gave the young man an appraising glance. “That’s surprising.”
Ethenn huffed. “The only reason I’ve ever won is because I’m stronger than her, and she can’t bear up under that forever. Especially not when she shows off.”
Evylin shoved his head as she walked to his vacated observation spot. She took a seat on the grass as he and Brea prepared to spar. The woman took in his stance and noted how Ethenn absentmindedly favored his left hand. “You’re left-handed?” she asked.
“I can use both,” Ethenn said, adjusting his grip. “But yes, I prefer the left.”
The idea seemed to please Brea. “That’s a handy trickifyou can learn to compensate for the openings it invites.”
“Hewitt told me the same thing.”
“And did he teach you how to change your footing and to adjust the binds to ensure your opponent can’t get through your guard?”
“He did.”
Brea tipped her chin up with approval. “Then, by all means, fight me left-handed,” she invited.
