Forged Destiny [Book 4: Ch. 9]

She was holding back, but it felt more than just in terms of what she was using. She didn't feel as fast or as strong as before, nor quite so unrelenting.

Maybe it was just the time and place. The first time we'd fought she assumed me a murdering monster she had to put down as quickly as she could, and attacked me with that in mind. Here, we were two allies having a friendly spar, so it was possible she wasn't into it as much as she had been before.

But I didn't think so. Some of the attacks she'd thrown my way had come with blistering speed, and still did here, but she didn't follow up on them and instead let me go with a clash of steel or a blade lock someone her size just would not willingly enter into.

"Are you trying to let me win?" I asked on our next pass, Crocea Mors blocking her strike and then slipping up to catch her follow-up attack towards my head. Our faces were close enough to whisper, and though the crowd around us roared happily, her voice was as clear as day.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You could have beaten me twice over by now, but you're dragging the fight out. Why?"

"Consider that a part of the answer you sought earlier," Cinder replied, her eyes lighting up a little. She smirked and slipped away, swinging her sword towards my neck, but allowing it to crash against my sword instead. When she pulled back and span into a ready pose, the answer struck me.

The flourishes, the spins, the little things she did that served no real purpose but to show off. I'd kind of assumed she was mocking me, but that didn't ring true, especially since the better way to do that would have been to disarm me in the first exchange. As my eyes slid to the left, taking in the raucous soldiers and clapping villagers, children included, I realised the truth. We weren't sparring at all. We were putting on a show for the people.

—Forged Destiny [Book 4: Ch. 9]