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“You will find a woman from the Golden Shield a much more challenging opponent than a greased robe from the Magelands.”
When it came to fists and magic, yes. But she was just as vulnerable to diplomacy as the Dexion had been.
Rudhira looked from Lio to Solia. “Don’t make too much work for the healers. Understood?”
Solia saluted him. “I would never dishonor the battle arts or my opponents with needless harm.”
Lio gave his prince the heart bow. “I’ll be careful, Ritual father.”
Rudhira nodded, then withdrew to stand beside Lio’s father. With the Blood Errant watching, Lio felt emboldened.
“I want you to know who I’m fighting for,” Lio said, loud enough for their audience to hear, “tonight and always.”
“But can you fight well enough to deserve her?” Solia challenged.
“I defeated an Old Master for her sake.”
“He will always force you to make difficult choices in battle. One wrong decision could cost Cassia her life. You’ll have to make sacrifices. Is your Hesperine heart too tender for that?”
“Test me.”
Solia smiled. Then she wrapped her scarf around her eyes. Hespera’s Mercy. She intended to fight blindfolded. His light magic would be useless, too.
Solia raised her fists. Lio matched her, but his posture felt wrong, his body strung too tight. He released a long breath, giving himself permission to distance himself from his fears. But the distance from Cassia remained, a deep wrongness, a sense of warning.
She was at home, he reminded himself. Right now, she was in the safest place in the world. Nothing could be wrong, even if his instincts blared at having her out of his reach.
He relaxed into a fighting stance. Rudhira made a libation on the ground, and the match began.
Solia’s right fist darted at Lio with precision. Was she using his aura to determine his physical position? That was impressive magical discipline.
She moved fast for a human. But he was still far quicker. He merely leaned at Hesperine speed to avoid her blow. Her left fist came in harder, aiming for his new position with equal accuracy, but the move seemed leisurely to his immortal reflexes.
“Hm,” Solia said calmly, “you actually do have technique, I’ll grant you.”
“Mak and Lyros are excellent teachers.”
She tried to get under his guard. It was child’s play to dance out of the way of her strike. So this was what it felt like to fight a human as an immortal.
“Are dodges all they taught you?” Solia taunted.
If he unleashed even rudimentary fighting moves on her, he could easily imagine how much damage he could do. In the heat of the fight, that chilled him. He knew how much power over humans his magic gave him. But he had never felt so keenly aware that he could destroy lives with only his hands.
He kept his fists up, but made no move. “We agreed to fight fair.”
“You’re still playing by Hesperine rules. Your enemies won’t. In a battle for Cassia’s soul, do you think your pretty principles will serve?”
“My principles are precisely what she needs. As for the rules”—he laughed—“I have left those in tatters for her before.”
“Then show me.”
He made his first swing, attempting to compensate for Solia’s mortal ability. It felt like a slow demonstration for a suckling trainee.
He heard Solia’s snort and the slide of her feet in the dirt as she adjusted her position. She didn’t dodge. She blocked his blow with her forearm.
“If I can block you,” she accused, “you are not fighting hard enough.”
She was Solia. It went against everything in him to try to hit her. Even though she was the Victor of Souls, who had defeated Tendo despite his lifetime of battle training and vast ancestral magic.
