Page 52 of Gilded in Blood

“So, you really know how to spar?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“I do.” I nod. “My sister and I used to train together before she got married.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Show me.”

“Fine.”

We move onto the mats, facing each other from opposite ends.

Ilya rolls his shoulders once before raising his hands. “Don’t hold back.”

I snort.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

One corner of his mouth twitches. He comes at me first. A jab. I slip outside it.

A cross. I catch it on my forearm and step back into position.

He’s watching more than he’s attacking, measuring my reactions, looking for hesitation.

He’s not going to find any. I spent years doing this with Calina.

Maybe not against someone as skilled as Ilya, but enough to know how to keep my feet under me.

He feints left. I don’t take the bait. Instead, I pivot, duck under his next strike, and drive the heel of my palm into his ribs.

He takes a step back, surprise flickering across his face before it’s replaced by something almost… impressed.

“Not bad,” he mutters.

“Told you.”

The next exchange is different. He’s no longer humoring me.

His movements are quicker. He forces me to work for every block, every dodge, every opening. Sweat beads along my forehead as I barely avoid a sweeping kick, stumbling before catching my balance again.

“You’re smiling,” I say between breaths.

“So are you.”

I hadn’t even realized it.

I grin wider.

“Maybe I’m enjoying proving you wrong.”

“I never said you couldn’t fight.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was.”

He lunges again.

This time I anticipate it, sidestepping at the last second before catching his wrist and using his momentum against him. He twists free before I can capitalize on it, but not before I hear a quiet huff of amusement escape him.

“Wow,” he mutters, stepping back.