The courtyard had grown quiet. The air was cool and sharp, as if the dusk itself was holding its breath.

Cassian stood in the ring like a black-clad statue, his crimson eyes locked on the girl before him. The wooden practice blade rested loosely in his grip, its presence somehow heavier than steel.

Seraphine tightened her hold on her own practice sword. The hilt felt slick against her damp palms. She braced her feet in the snow, refusing to look away from him.

He tilted his head slightly, repeating the words from before with full confidence. “Whenever you are ready.”

The words were simple, almost bored. The way his eyes watched her, steady and unblinking, felt anything but.

Her heartbeat hammered against her skull, feeling and hearing each beat loud and clear. She swallowed hard, drew in a sharp breath, and moved.

Her first step was quick, more instinct than thought. The second carried her into a slash aimed at his ribs. The blade hummed through the air.

Cassian shifted his wrist with a movement so slight it barely seemed real. Her strike slid aside as though it had struck water instead of wood.

A flash of irritation tightened her lips. She attacked again, then again, each swing sharper, faster. Her arms burned as she tried to force an opening. One might say she fought like a brute, with no hint of grace in her swings, only the raw force of desperation and stubborn will.

Cassian parried them all with lazy precision, his expression unreadable.

“You call that an attack?” he murmured, almost teasing. His blade met hers with a soft, wooden clack. “You’re like a lamb just learning to walk, yet trying to kick a wolf.”

–Shut up.

Seraphine gritted her teeth, set her feet harder into the ground, and lunged again.

He let her push, let her feel as if she were pressing the fight, then shifted his weight forward. His counter came like the snap of a whip, a downward strike that slammed into her guard and rattled her arms. The force drove her back a step. She stumbled, barely catching herself.

“Too weak, too slow,” Cassian said, voice still calm.

–Shut up, shut up.

She bit her lip, her face hot, and charged again. This time she aimed low, hoping to catch his leg.

A blur — his sword flicked down, knocking hers aside with contemptuous ease. His foot slid forward and swept her legs out from under her.

Seraphine crashed down on her butt, the shock stealing her breath. A thin, startled scream slipped past her lips. “–!”

“That would have cracked your spine,” he said, eyes cold as a winter sky.

–Shut up, shut up, shut up! Why can’t I just hit you?

She rolled to her knees, gasping. Her whole body ached. Still she planted her feet and pushed herself up.

“Again,” she rasped.

Cassian’s brow lifted slightly. “That was your defeat. In a real battle, you’d already be dead.”

“I’m still alive and standing!” Her voice broke, but she lifted her sword. “Again!”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “Ah. The lamb thinks she has fangs.”

–Cut it out with the lamb thing, you jerk.

He moved this time, no longer waiting for her. The wooden blade darted toward her shoulder. She barely managed to raise her sword in time. The impact numbed her arm and sent her staggering back. He followed with another strike, then another, each faster and sharper. The ring echoed with the crack of wood against wood.

Seraphine’s defense faltered. One hit slammed into her ribs and sent her skidding across the snow. She coughed, breath ragged, and forced herself onto her knees.

–Damn it… this hurts like hell.

“Again,” she panted, half-snarled.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “You really do not know when to quit.”

“I’m still fine,” she spat, wiping grit from her cheek. “Again!”

He came at her in earnest now, still holding back just enough to not cripple her. His blade screamed through the air. She met the first strike, barely deflected the second, and the third crashed into her guard with a force that knocked her off her feet. The wooden sword bit into the earth inches from where her head had just been.

She scrambled up, breathing hard, legs shaking, and raised her sword again. Her shoulders trembled but her eyes stayed locked on his.

From the edge of the ring, Isolde and Alisea murmured to each other, uneasy at the sight. Edmund’s hands clenched at his sides, torn between stepping in and letting the battle run its course.

Lucien’s usual smile had faded. His hand hovered near the hilt of his own sword, but he said nothing and did not move. For now he could only watch.

Cassian stepped forward, his presence filling the space like the shadow of a predator. He swung, clipped her shoulder, and sent her sprawling again.

“And that,” he said flatly, “would have severed your arm.”

–Get up, get up, get up. Don’t let him see you’re weak. Don’t let him win.

Seraphine rolled to her feet, dirt streaking her cheek, blood at the corner of her lip. Her breath hitched, but she straightened her back and raised her blade.

“I can still fight without an arm. Again!”

His lips tilted into a small, insolent smile, the kind that spoke of confidence and quiet mockery. The look in his crimson eyes daring her to challenge him further.

The exchange grew faster, wood ringing on wood, the sound of a staccato drumbeat. Seraphine’s arms burned, her muscles screamed, but she refused to fall again. Sweat stung her eyes, the taste of iron on her tongue.

The clash rang out, sharp as a crack of thunder. Cassian’s strike swept her blade aside. It spun through the air and landed in the snow a few feet away. Before she could even reach for it, the point of his wooden sword hovered at her throat.

His voice was quiet. “Only a fool keeps fighting. You have courage. But courage without common sense is nothing.”

Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. She stared at the sword at her throat, then at the man behind it.

Cassian lowered his weapon slightly, still watching her.

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice was flat, the edge of command in it. “You have spirit, I’ll grant you that. Perhaps in ten years you might be fit to stand in the dungeons. Sooner, if you truly dedicate your life to it.”

His eyes hardened, the tip of his blade unwavering at her throat. “But today… today you would already be dead. Step into the dungeons now, and you will not walk out.”

He stepped back, giving her space.
“Know your place. If you’re not a fool, then you should know when to retreat and when to fight. Forcing yourself through a fight will accomplish nothing. As a du Fane, don’t bring shame to your family.”

For a heartbeat she stared up at him, chest heaving so violently it felt like it might tear itself apart. Defiance still glimmered in her eyes, but her limbs quivered with exhaustion. She opened her mouth to protest, to claim the fight was not over, yet her body betrayed her.

Her legs gave way. The pain in her arms and shoulders screamed, every breath a raw scrape in her ribs. She sank to her knees, then folded forward, her palms pressing into the dirt as if she could hold herself up.

She couldn’t.

The world tilted. Her vision swam, the edges of the ring melting into white haze.

Shouts rang out, distant and muffled. Through the roar in her ears, one voice pierced the din.

“My lady!”

Lucien.

Even now he would not call her by name.

A strange pang stirred in her chest at that single, formal address. Ever since he had learned the truth, he had stopped calling her by name.

–He must really love Seraphine.

She didn’t know whether to feel envy, bitterness, or a flicker of gratitude for that small reminder that she was not truly the girl they saw. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps that reminder kept her from losing herself entirely.

The cold seeped up from the packed snow beneath her. The pain dulled, distant now, as her head drooped lower.

Her last glimpse was of Cassian’s boots shifting in the snow, the wooden blade lowered to his side.

“…Pathetic,” he murmured, almost bored. “You should have stopped while you still could.”

Her lips twitched as if to answer, but no sound came.

Then the white haze claimed her, and she knew nothing more.

[Author’s Note: If you want to stay more up to date with schedules, check out my Minkly.]