Page 60 of War Hour

My foot staggers backward before digging into the sand.

Heart racing, I follow his movements with keen eyes. Twisting my cheek between my teeth, I grip my sword’s hilt with both hands. When Evander raises his arms, I step forward to swipe toward his revealed torso, but he brings his blade straight down, deflecting the attack.

“Better. Again.”

Fire ignites in his eyes.

Sweat clings to my brow as I try repeatedly to land a hit against him.

It’s obvious he’s holding himself back, letting me get into the rhythm of parrying each attack. I get faster, slicing the air with a renewed ferocity.

Circling each other, we trade between the offense and defense, and I stumble as he smoothly transitions between them.

“You’ve never battled with a sword before?” Evander asks, showing the first signs of being winded.

I doubt he would consider my brief time holding the sword as I prepared to fight the Kadara as experience, so I shake my head.

“Never. Just a dagger, but I didn’t really use it.”

Evander scoffs. “You’ve got the instincts for it. I’ll give you that.”

I grumble at his praise. “I haven’t landed a hit against you.” Frowning as I dodge a large swing, ducking under the sword, I tumble forward.

“I’ve been fighting since I could hold a wooden sword. If you could land a hit, I’d be insulted.”

Another crash of our swords brings Evander’s face close to mine, our blades crossing between us.

Chests rising and falling heavily, Evander smiles as he looks at me. “You’re doing well. Don’t rush your progress.” His eyes flicker to my mouth for a split second, but the moment is all I need.

Locking my hand guard under the crossbars of Evander’s sword, I thrust upward, knocking his blade from his grip. It flings into the sand.

The arena is silent for a moment. Evander blinks in the direction of his sword, mouth parted.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at me in bewilderment. “Okay, I’m insulted.”

Nothing can stop the smile from breaking across my face. I’m barely able to keep the laugh out of my voice when I shoot his own words back at him.

“Don’t be.You’re doing well.”

Evander laughs with me, mirth shining in his eyes as he shakes his head, looking at the ceiling. Stepping away from me, Evander moves for his sword.

From across the arena, Bash hollers, cheering loudly, “I needed that desperately, Lysta. Finally, someone to keep Evander here on his toes.”

Evander smiles, shouting back at Bash, “Well, if you spent more time on the ground with a sword in your hand than up there, maybe you’d be up for the challenge.”

Bash snickers, encouraging laughs from some of the Heirs.

Turning to look at them from across the field, my eyes move to the quickly approaching Heir.

Neith.

Sword knocked back on his shoulder, Neith smirks as he makes his way to us.

Evander doesn’t see the redheaded Heir approach, on the way to collect his sword.

Tension setting in my limbs, I raise my sword, preparing myself for any fight Neith might bring. Gritting my teeth, I call out Evander’s name.

Whipping around, he sees Neith’s approach, smile falling. Cutting off Neith, Evander moves to stand between us, putting me at his back.

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