Page 56 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Perseus was already up. He lunged, and I met him with a hook kick—missed. Damnit. He flowed under it like water and retaliated with a spinning roundhouse, and even with the forgiving floor, the impact knocked me flat on my ass. I groaned, getting up slowly, dignity trailing behind me, my tailbone throbbing.

‘That all you got?’ he teased, walking away.

‘Just letting you get comfortable,’ I muttered, brushing myself off.

Perseus stood by the racks of weapons, tall, broad, and far too smug for someone about to get cut.

‘Daggers?’ I asked, gesturing to the wall of weapons.

He shrugged, already reaching for a short sword—heavier, broader than my usual blade, but faster than long blades. Guess he liked the balance. I liked the challenge.

I chose a thinner blade, razor-sharp with a slightly curved edge. Better for slicing than stabbing. More elegant, like me.

We squared off again, his expression unreadable, all calm confidence. Mine? Probably a little too pleased with myself… I liked making giants fall.

‘Try not to cry when I win,’ I said sweetly.

‘Try not to cut yourself.’

I narrowed my eyes at his impudent smirk.

We moved at the same time. He led with a textbook-perfect swing, powerful and wide, and I ducked under it, twisting on my heel, and aimed low, slicing towards his thigh. He caught the motion, blocked, and countered with a strike that came faster than I expected. My blade deflected his, but not enough.

Pain bloomed in my left shoulder—blunt and jarring. Not deep, but it burned like hell. I hissed and danced back.

‘First blood,’ he said, voice annoyingly calm.

‘Not the last,’ I muttered, testing my arm. I could still move it, but I'd have to be smarter now; time to get creative. I baited him, letting my stance loosen, my breathing become more laboured, and he fell for it—lunged with a diagonal strike meant to finish our sparring.

I caught it with a half-parry, twisting just enough to send him off-balance, then stepped into his space, flipped the dagger in my good hand, and rammed the hilt into his ribs. He stumbled. I moved behind him like smoke, wrapped my blade across his throat—not touching skin, but close enough.

He froze.

‘Yield,’ I whispered in his ear.

He chuckled, breathless. ‘That was dirty.’

‘Mm. And effective.’

I stepped around him, letting the point of my blade drag along his collarbone in a playful arc before lowering it. My shoulder throbbed, but I kept my face unreadable—he didn’t need to know how much it hurt.

Perseus locked eyes with me, shaking his head with a wry grin. ‘You always cheat.’

‘No,’ I said, flashing him a grin of my own. ‘I adapt.’

He bowed slightly, acknowledging the win. I didn’t return it, I just returned the blade and walked away, hiding the stiffness in my arm.

Behind me, he muttered, ‘One day, you’ll fight fair.’

I didn’t look back. ‘And lose? Not a chance.’

‘Merde. Je suis crevé,’ Perseus said as he rested his hands on his thighs. I gave him a blank look. ‘Sorry. It means: Shit. I’m knackered.’

I smirked at him. ‘Did I wear you out, big man?’

He raised a pissy brow at me. ‘You’re a crazy woman.’

‘I know.’ I grinned. ‘Anyhoo,’ I said, squinting at him. ‘Are you all basically the bastard offspring of gods? Because if so—ugh.’ I mimed gagging.