Page 90 of Ashen Wings

“Slide your foot back ever so slightly and square your hips toward the attacker.” Isra gestures to my left boot. I follow his command and my posture adjusts to the defensive. “Good. Are you ready? I’ll slow my movement down until you get the hang of things.”

The shift of my dominant side leaves me more exposed than I’m comfortable with, but I trust Isra’s guidance and welcome the oncoming attack. When he swipes his blade toward me, my usual counter falters and I trip right on my ass.

“Get up.” He offers an outstretched hand.

He lunges for me again, and again I’m off balance. The edge of Isra’s weapon scrapes my abdomen. My knee falters under the weight of my raised blade, and a moment later I’ve got a mouth full of dewy grass.

“Get up, Nova. Again.”

My building rage escapes with a grunt as I heave myself up and fall back into step.

“You’re still fighting the weight.”

An hour passes with the same results. My biceps burn as Isra charges again, but I force the muscles to move. I’m drenched in sweat and green with grass stains.

The air rushes from me with an “oof.” My blade skids across the lawn, stopping short when it thuds against a black boot.

“Mind if I tap in?” Jace asks as he retrieves my discarded weapon. He skims an index finger down its edge, eyes dark and deadly.

“Jace…she hasn’t landed a single blow against me, I don’t think she’s anywhere near ready to face you in a sparring match.”

“Isra!” I clench my teeth so hard they might crack.

“What? It’s the truth.” He shrugs and leans against his practice sword.

“Perhaps it’s your teaching methods. Let me give it a try.” Jace impales the blade into the grass. His hands brush over his collarbone as he undoes his black overcoat. Those fucking fingers, slender and precise. I tear my traitorous eyes from them and focus on the ground.

The golden buckle clanks as his jacket falls beside the sword, revealing a white linen tunic, thin enough it’s almost sheer. “Unless you’re too nervous.”

Oh, fuck no. I’m seconds from punching that pompous smirk right off his face. “If I had my own weapons you’d be on your ass by now. Or did you forget how many Smoke guards I slaughtered back in Storm?”

“I haven’t forgotten. Sweat-soaked and rabid might very well be my favorite version of you, starling.”

My jaw cramps with the fury now coursing through me. “Fine. I’ll fight you. With that godsdamned blade, too.”

Isra scoffs and throws up his hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Raise your blade.” Jace saunters to the center of the sparring circle, dragging the sword across the dew speckled lawn before dropping it beside me.

“With pleasure.” I don’t wait for Isra to give us the okay before I pounce. I know I’ve taken Jace’s bait. My heartbeat slams against my chest with the rage he’s so easily stoked, but I don’t care. Those perfect smug lips of his send blood rushing right to my ears.

He dodges with ease, fast and fluid. I spin on my heels and attack again. My lungs threaten to burst, my already exhausted arms roar in protest, but I raise the blade and strike.

Jace counters with a swipe of his own weapon, tapping the hard, blunt edge across my wrist. My fingers jerk open in response, but I suck in a breath and stifle the movement before I lose my sword. Embrace the pain. His eyes flash midnight as I sidestep, and my fist connects with his cheek.

Satisfaction roils through me like a swell against rock. With the opportunity, I charge and send my blade. He blocks with his own, holding me against him so close our noses brush.

“Don’t be greedy. If you want your hands on me, you’ll have to try a little harder.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

My throat is raw and ragged and laced with fire as he wags his index finger at me. “Such a wicked girl you are.”

My teeth gnash as I press off his blade. “You’re dead, King Ashborne. Mark my words.”

Jace spits blood and drags a thumb over his lip. When his gaze lands on his red-stained finger, his features shift. Those inky eyes ignite in a flurry of burning starlight.

My boots fucking fly as I plummet toward him, no less than a comet blasting through the cosmos. I raise my sword and ignore my body’s protests. Jace doesn’t take a counter or defensive position, he stands entirely still, entirely relaxed.