Page 61 of War Hour

“Lysta’s just training with me today, Neith. She’s only just begun.”

Evander’s voice has a warning edge to it, but Neith doesn’t stand down.

“She needs to train against someone who won’t go easy on her—or, better yet, someone who won’t be so distracted as to let her win.”

The tips of Evander’s ears turn red as he gulps. “Going easy is exactly the type of training she needs.”

“If you say so. But easy will not get her where she needs to be fast enough, and you know it.”

As much as I hate to admit it, Neith is right.

“Evander, it’s okay,” I say, stepping out from behind him. “I can use all the training I can get, right?”

My words sound more confident than I feel, especially when Neith’s eyes flicker with victory. But right now, I am fresh meat.It’s better I take a few hits now and have him lose interest than having him search me out for a fight later, when I’m not as prepared.

Evander grabs my wrist as I move to pass him, making my heart clench. Leaning to my ear, Evander speaks lowly, “I’m not sure this is wise.”

I step past him, shaking his grip. “I never said I was wise. I’m from Valor... You know—bravery, and all that.”

Neith barks out a laugh, grinning in Evander’s direction, before moving opposite me.

Evander leans against the wall, watching us. His hands are in fists at his side, jaw ticking as he’s forced to observe.

With no words exchanged, Neith lunges forward, his sword missing my arm by mere inches. Barreling to the side, I struggle to keep my feet under me at the sudden attack.

Sword up, Lysta. Sword up.

It is only once the battle has begun that I realize how drained I am from my fight with Evander. My movements are slowed, my blade heavier with every swing.

Perhaps this should’ve been a battle for another day, after all. But it’s too late for me to stop, as Neith attacks again and again.

I’m barely able to block each attack, Neith not waiting for me to defend one hit before moving onto the next.

Evander really had been going easier on me than I thought.

My attention is pulled at the sound of a feminine giggle.

Turning my gaze for a moment, I catch sight of Visha, who’s laughing as she rests a hand on Evander’s forearm.

Hissing, I wince as Neith’s sword slashes my upper arm, cutting through the fabric. I bring my hand to the stinging cut, warm blood coating my fingertips.

“Lysta,” Evander shouts, stepping forward.

I hold out a hand to stop him and grunt out, “I’m fine.”

Neith steps back, allowing me a moment to get my bearings before gesturing for me to attack.

Every blow I aim is diverted, ringing out the sound of metal against metal.

“I’d be careful of the usurper if I were you,” Neith mutters as he pushes his sword against mine.

There it was again. Usurper. It’s the second time Neith has used the name.

“If you have something you feel the need to share about Torryn, then just spit it out. I have no time for your games, Neith.” I push off of him to put space between us.

Neith raises an eyebrow, smirking at me, as if I have just stepped into a trap he hadn’t even had to place. “Interesting you assume I mean Lord Torryn.”

Flinching at his words, I do a double take as my mind reels.

---