Page 64 of The Last Dragon
What is she—
“Yes!” she exclaims, rising up and down on her feet with a suppressed jump.
I glance at the dummy, the blade embedded halfway into the board just a few inches from the center.I hadn’t even noticed.I raise a brow at her. Her hand is still raised for a…
I give her a high-five. I smile again, before handing another knife to her. The smile she had moments ago disappears, and I can’t help but laugh.
“One down, ten to go.”
She blows away her large waves from her face and swipes the blade from my hand, muttering curses under her breath. I quickly glance over to Alex, his eyes on his knife twirling in his hand, with a smile. It quickly fades as he positions himself toward the board and, with a sharp inhale, throws it, for a fifth bullseye.
After hours of throwing knives, Nida insists on sparring to practice her speed and body control. She asked me not to go easy on her, but I decided to give her a head start.
I grab Nida’s arm and twist it, pressing it against her back. She inhales sharply in pain and taps her fingers against the mat. I hold on to her arm for a moment, making sure she means it. Another tap. I let go.
“You’re fast but not fast enough,” I say. “Your speed is what’s going to keep you alive.”
She huffs a breath, face pressed against the mat, then pushes herself up and turns to face me.
“A dragon will take advantage of your mistakes,” I say.
She raises her hands into fists again, getting into a fighting stance. Though I feel like she’s holding back, and I can’t understand why. Then again, so am I.
“It’s your feet,” I point. “You take a step before you attempt to swing. It’s like blowing a warhorn, letting me know you’re coming.” Nida shifts her feet, with a subtle curse spilling from her rosy lips. Her eyes linger on her feet for a moment, and a red curl sways in front of her face from rapid breaths. With a grunt, she lets her hair down and adjusts it back into a tight ponytail.
“Okay,” she says, returning to her stance to signal she’s ready to spar again.
“Your hair is too long,” I comment, moving my body into a defensive stance moments before she attempts to hit me. I quickly block her fist with my palm, sending her arm across my left shoulder, barely a graze.
“Doesn’t bother me,” she says, and tries to hit my head with the same arm, slicing over the air as I duck under. I curl my leg over hers, dragging her down to the mat again, face-first. She lets out a little grunt, slamming the mat with her fist. I shoot back up, extending an arm to help her up. She stares at my hand, rolls her eyes, and then accepts it. Carefully, I pull her up, feeling her hand in mine. Her face is swarmed by her red curls from her rapidly loosening ponytail, amber eyes gleaming with fearlessness.
Her breathing slows; her eyes never falter from mine. There’s no hesitation this time, and her feet are firmly planted on the ground. She’s completely still, waiting for me to strike first. I don’t attack. If her fighting technique is for the enemy to attack first, then I make sure to remove that option. Her eyes narrow as if scanning me, trying to read me. Eventually, she does.
She feints to the right. Shit, she’s fast. Faster than the previous time she attacked, and this time there’s no stepping. When she lunges, I meet her head-on, blocking her fist. She moves likewater, slipping through the gaps in my defense before I can even register it. I block again, but she’s already pivoting. Her elbow flies toward my ribs with a speed that makes my breath catch. I twist just in time, feeling the rush of air as it barely misses. I inhale sharply, but before I can exhale, she spins with her leg whipping around in a vicious arc, aimed straight for my head.
I duck, but barely in time. Her leg brushes against my hair. I remain crouched for a moment, chuckling. “That’s all you got?”
She answers with a punch to my jaw. Pain radiates through my head, and my hand goes to the tender spot where she hit me.
“Shit,” she says, eyes wide as she drops her stance completely. “I thought you’d block that!” Nida crouches in front of me. The taste of iron spreads in my mouth. I snort.
“Nice going!” Eryca’s voice booms. I glance over the benches near our mat. A smirk pulls on Eryca’s mouth. She’s enjoying this.
“I thought you said you learn from books?” I get up, my hand still over my jaw.That was a decent punch.
“Most of it.” She gives a nervous giggle. “Mixed with some training, though.”
“Some?” Ilian chuckles. “You’re beating his ass!”
“I think he’s just going easy on me.” Nida’s expression is playful. “Even though I asked him not to.”
“Oh? Let’s go again then.”
She’s ready, but so am I. This time, I don’t wait for her to get into a comfortable stance. This time I’m testing her for speed. Reaction. I charge, aiming for the midsection, but she’s quick—quicker than I thought—and side steps. That’s what I expected. I twist my body, turning the feint into a sweeping kick under her legs, and she tumbles to the ground. She twirls her legs between mine like vines and attempts to slam me into the mat. I vault myself forward, away from her, while she’s still on the ground. She leaps up, grinning. She’s enjoying this. And I can’t help butenjoy this myself. She’s fast. Strong. But I can’t let her think she’s winning. Because she’s not. I concentrate, taking deep breaths while listening to hers. The mat beneath her feet. The tension of her muscles. I can hear it. Feel it. A faint shift in the atmosphere, a sharp inhale of her breath. She hurls herself forward, aiming for my neck, but I catch her arm, stopping her in her tracks. I don’t even flinch. She gasps, her eyes locking with mine for a brief moment—those big, beautiful amber eyes.
“How the hell—” she blurts. Then her eyes stray away from mine, slowly tracing the growing smile on my lips.
“So you were going easy on me,” she breathes, her fist still clenched, inches away from my face.
