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I had my fighting leathers on, but no weapons attached to me, as this spar was to only be hand-to-hand combat. My hair was up in a high ponytail, and I wore my favorite boots as well—boots that gave me an extra inch of height.
The training room was large, with three walls taken up by practice targets, weapon racks, and weights, and the fourth being made of polycarbonate glass that stretched the whole length of the wall from ceiling to floor, with a view that overlooked the restless waters on the high tide of the ocean. A cushioned mat covered the majority of the stone floor to take the brunt of falls. It had definitely saved me from a couple dislocated shoulders over the years.
As I began to warm up on the mat, I heard the sound of footsteps enter the training room.
“You’re late,” I said, stretching an arm over my head.
“A prince is never late, you’re just early.” His sarcastic tone made me roll my eyes. Bennett looked around the room. “Where’s Miles? Shouldn’t there be someone to mediate? I figured you would’ve asked my brother.”
I continued to stretch my sore muscles, trying to convince myself I didn’t look stupid in some of the positions. “It will just be us. No mediator.”
“Well, what happens if one of us gets hurt?” Bennett asked lightly.
“Then I’ll heal you.”
“What if you get hurt?”
“I won’t.”
Another setback of a Life Crafter was that we couldn’t use our Golden blood on ourselves, to heal or to harm. That was the one thing I didn’t particularly like about my Artis blood, but I had Amica as my best friend and she was typically with me most of the time, so it wasn’t too big a deal.
“You sound confident.” Anger mixed with amusement filled his eyes. “You sure you didn’t ask Miles to be here to save your pride?”
“Actually, I didn’t ask Miles to come for your sake, not mine.” I suppressed the smile that was starting to show on my face. “The rules of the fight are simple: no weapons and no craft, just hand-to-hand combat. The first person to yield or be pinned down for more than five seconds wins.”
“How about we make it three seconds,” he chimed in. “To make it easier for you.”
He strode across the room to face me on the mat. The sun that rose beyond the ocean made his eyes shine, enhancing the blue in them. He looked like a prince, one who was ready to be a king.
I could still see the ten-year-old boy who taught me the basics of fighting without his father knowing. Who taught me how to hold a dagger and shoot an arrow. Who would sneak me into the training room at night when no one was awake. I found out later from Pater that he knew all along and told the guards to allow it. I felt stupid, but I was happy Pater didn’t mention it back then. It made it more exciting and fun when we were kids.
When Bennett trained me, he was so patient, even when I would cry tears of frustration after all of my arrows missed his targets. He was encouraging, not pitying.
I didn’t see that from him now, but the look on his face told me that he still saw that skill-less little girl.
We both bowed at the waist, never breaking eye contact. A standard in Veladis, to show respect to your partner and make the claim that this was nothing but a spar. That there were no ulterior motives to the fight, and neither would fight to kill.
As we both straightened, the spar officially began. We both circled one another, my hands in a blocking position over my face and his at his side. The thought of him not even trying made my blood boil, and that thought had me breaking the circle to strike first.
I aimed for the most vulnerable place on his upper body—his neck—which was the most obvious target. I went to strike for a quick jab, but his body was already gone, like I already assumed would happen. The arm that I used to strike toward his face whipped back and elbowed him in the neck, hard. Just as I had intended. He was fast, and I figured that he would move to strike me from behind, so I used that to my advantage.
Bennett started coughing from the impact and I whipped my body around, using my other arm to swing into his cheek. He grabbed my arm before I hit my target, twisting it, and using that distraction to sweep me off my feet. I hit the ground hard but stayed down no longer than a second.
I rolled and brought myself back to my feet, dancing in a circle with him once again. Small jabs to the shoulder, abdomen, and side were thrown at one another. The two of us practically crafted the air to allow us to dodge certain blows that shouldn’t have been avoidable. We were both light on our feet, and I could see that he really had trained in Vicinus. His form and body were perfect, despite the show of carelessness he displayed at the beginning of the spar.
With that damn Shadow blood, I couldn’t just attack, he would always be too quick and dodge my blows. Although he wasn’t technically using his craft, it still made him unnaturally fast. I was fast and I could easily keep up with guards, but I wasn’t faster than Bennett. I hated admitting that. I had to calculate my exact move and predict his next one.
One blink and he was charging for me. I didn’t have time to plan. I acted on impulse and struck out my leg with full force, aiming for his gut. Although my foot met its target, I made a mistake.
He hissed, grabbing my ankle, and twisting it until I was again on the floor, this time facedown. As I began to twist back up to stand, Bennett was already there, getting ready to pin me down, until my fist connected with his jaw.
He looked shocked at the hit, and I took that moment of opportunity to grab his shoulders and pin him to the floor.
One.
Two.
I made the mistake of leaving his arms unpinned, and he grabbed my waist, lifting me up with ease and slamming my back against the floor, hard. My head hit the mat, making my vision go black for a half second, and again I was thankful for the protection against the stone floors.
