Page 171 of Wings of Destruction

I rush her before the word fully leaves her lips.

She steps to the side easily, but I thought she might. She’ll never let me punch her dead in the jaw the way she indicated with a tap of her finger.

I pull up short and punch outward, curving my arm through the air. She bends her back, graceful, elegant. A dance.

I’m callow and rough by comparison. Exhausted, the caked-on blood makes my skin crack in all the wrong places.

A yell pries itself out of me as I lunge forward and send both arms out this time, my jaw dropping, and my fists meeting open air. I’ve overextended myself, and my joints protest immediately as I stumble.

Astrid says nothing. She moves fluidly, and her hands stay locked at her tailbone like some kind of mocking posture designed to remind me of the way Kieran leashed me.

Hands behind the back might be a hindrance to some, like me, but not to her.

Every single move I make against her is met with nothing. She’s untouchable. Aggravation boils a little higher, and my split lip protests through every new snarl. My muscles scream at me to take a break and sit, or better yet, to come at this from a reasonable, rational place rather than exasperation.

Astrid enjoys thwarting me. I swear she’s laughing as she bends a knee and swivels away from my bumbling attempts.

“Your sister must have been the last great fighter of your line,” Astrid says conversationally, her nostrils flaring. “I heard about her. She had a fierce reputation. It’s been said she was singular minded and stronger even than your father. He fought under the General, did he not?”

I lunge, striking out where her face used to be. “You don’t know anything.”

My knuckles clip the edge of her shoulder.

“The stories did not do her justice, either. Elspeth Whyte was much feared. I only had the chance to see her once in person myself, but she met every expectation of her skill.”

The way Astrid speaks leaves nothing to my imagination. She wonders what happened to me. Why I hadn’t followed in Elspeth’s footsteps.

Why didn’t I have a tenth of my older sister’s skills?

And since she made no mention against kicking, I spin as quickly as my beat-up body allows and kick out toward her ankle to incapacitate her. Astrid is faster.

Off balance, I stumble again, and she headbutts me. Pain immediately splinters out through my face.

“Ether curse you!” I cup my face, my nose aching.

“Your anger is a beautiful thing. It will take you far, as I said,” she adds. “As long as you learn how to weaponize it. You have to harness the fury and control it rather than letting it control you.”

“You’re purposely pissing me off,” I seethe.

She sniffs, shrugs. “You’re letting me.”

I make no headway toward marking her. At every opportunity, Astrid has the advantage, and either uses my own momentum against me or goads me into a trap.

“Your sister wasn’t offered a place in DragonSpear?” she asks.

The constant mention of Elspeth has crimson seeping along the edges of my vision. I grind my teeth, still circling the other woman.

“She did,” I say. “She turned it down.”

“Why would anyone turn it down?”

I send out a leg and clip her on the side of the knee this time. She does not budge.

“Elspeth has other duties. Had.”

She’s quiet for a moment before bowing her head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

It’s not what I expect her to say. Which is probably what she’d hoped for. She moves in a blink and punches me. Stars wink behind my closed eyes, and the nose she hadn’t broken on her first hit finally cracks.