Derek's expression was unreadable as I stepped into the ring. The packed earth was still damp from last night's rain, and the air carried that faint metallic bite of old blood. This wasn't a friendly spar. Not with Tomas watching from the shadows of the treeline, arms folded like he was settling in to see whether I'd walk out or be carried.
Derek twirled the blades in his hands, the movement easy and practiced. "You sure about this?"
"Not really."
"Good. Means you might take it seriously."
The moment I moved, he was on me. Faster than I'd expected, even after days of watching him train the others. I barely had time to bring my blade up before he struck, the impact jolting through my wrists. My boots slid half a step in the mud.
He didn't give me space to recover. Another swing came, this one angled to force me off-balance. I ducked, rolled, and came up swinging. The clash of metal rang in my ears.
"Better." Derek said. "But still slow."
I swung again, sharper this time, aiming low for his ribs. He blocked it without looking like he tried, shoving me back.
"You're thinking too much."
"Sorry for trying not to die."
"Stop talking."
I moved in again, pushing harder. My strikes came quicker, sharper, my footwork tightening as I adjusted to his rhythm. I could feel Tomas's gaze from the trees, heavy and unblinking.
Derek caught my blade mid-swing and twisted, sending it flying from my grip. It hit the mud with a dull thud.
Before I could react, he swept my legs out from under me. I landed hard, the breath knocked clean from my lungs.
"You're dead again." Derek took a step back. "That makes three times in under a minute."
I rolled to my knees, sucking in air. My pulse pounded in my ears. "Then give me another blade."
His mouth twitched like he almost respected that answer. He tossed me one from his belt. I caught it and lunged before he could reset his stance.
This time, my blade scraped across his shoulder. Not deep, but enough to make him blink.
"Finally."
The fight shifted after that. My arms ached, my breathing turned ragged, but I stopped thinking about each move before I made it. I reacted. My body knew things my head didn't. Every time Derek struck, I slipped past him by inches. Every time he blocked, I was already moving for the next opening.
It felt like something was waking up inside me. Something sharp.
Derek grinned, actually grinned, as I drove him back a step. "There she is."
I didn't know who he meant. I didn't have time to ask. I was already moving, blade flashing up in a tight arc. He blocked high, but I twisted at the last second, ducking under his guard and pressing the edge to his side.
If this had been real, I'd have cut him open.
We both froze.
From the treeline, Tomas's voice carried across the ring. "Again."
I stepped back, breathing hard. "Seriously?"
"Again," he repeated.
I glanced at Derek. He just shrugged. "Orders are orders."
We went at it until my arms shook from the strain. Sweat stung my eyes, my hair sticking to my face. My legs felt like they'd fold under me if I stopped moving.
When Derek finally knocked me down for the last time, I stayed there, lying in the mud, chest heaving.
Tomas stepped into the ring.
"Get up."
"I think I'm good right here."
His shadow fell over me. "Up."
I dragged myself to my feet. My blade felt heavier than it had when we started.
He studied me like he was reading something in the lines of my face. "You fight like someone who's done it before."
"I haven't."
"You have. You just don't remember."
The way he said it made the air feel colder.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means we're going to find out."
Derek wiped his blades clean on a strip of cloth, but his gaze stayed on me. Whatever Tomas was thinking, Derek knew it too, and it made him uneasy.
Tomas stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you keep fighting like that, someone's going to notice. And when they do, they'll want to know why a fox shifter with no training can match a Lycan guard."
I swallowed hard. "So hide it."
"That's not how this works."
We left the ring in silence. My legs felt unsteady, but Tomas didn't slow. He led me deeper into the forest, the path narrowing under low branches. I didn't recognize this trail.
"You ever been in the Old Quarter?" He asked without looking back.
"No."
"You're about to be."
The trees thinned into a clearing where the remains of old stone walls jutted from the ground. Moss covered most of them, but the shapes were still there. Corners, doorframes, pieces of a street long buried.
"This used to be where the clans held their challenges." Tomas gestured around us. "Duel for rank, for mates, for territory."
"Sounds civilized."
"Sometimes the loser walked away. Sometimes they didn't."
He stopped in front of what had once been a low archway. The stones were blackened, as if fire had taken them long ago.
"This is where I decide if you're worth keeping."
The words settled in my chest like lead. "And if I'm not?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped back and drew his blade. "Defend yourself."
The air between us shifted. This wasn't like sparring with Derek. This was sharper, heavier. Tomas didn't move like a trainer. He moved like a predator.
The first strike came fast enough to make me stumble. I caught it on the edge of my blade, but the force of it rattled my bones.
Another came before I could reset, aimed low. I twisted, barely clearing it.
He didn't let up. Every swing drove me back toward the broken wall. The ground here was uneven, and my boots slipped more than once.
When his blade glanced off my shoulder, I felt the sting of skin breaking. Warmth spread under my collar.
"Too slow."
I gritted my teeth and pushed forward. My next strike scraped across his chestplate, earning the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"Better."
I didn't know if I was more tired or furious. I just knew I wasn't going down again. Not in front of him.
I stepped in, swung high, then dropped low at the last second. My blade caught him across the thigh. Not deep, but enough to make him shift back.
We circled each other, both breathing hard. His gaze sharpened. "Now we're getting somewhere."
I was about to answer when the wind shifted, and the scent hit me.
Blood. But not ours.
Derek burst into the clearing, eyes locked on Tomas. "We've got trouble."
Tomas didn't lower his blade. "How bad?"
Derek's jaw tightened. "Bad enough you're going to want her with you."
Tomas's gaze flicked to me, then back to Derek. "Show me."