The lance hit the king's blade and drove Ty's shoulder back.
He had expected impact through the hand, but the board gave it to his whole body.
The Sapphire Cavalier's weapon scraped along the short blade, searching for the weak angle under the guard. The damaged mount pushed from behind it with a broken rhythm, one strong stride, one dragging stride, one more strong enough to make Ty's teeth meet.
Ty held the crown until the edge bit deeper into his palm.
The king's blade caught the lance halfway down the shaft, not the point, and that mattered because the point still slid toward the king's ribs.
Ty pulled heat from E4 and from the little strip of warmth left under F3. The pawn shook behind him. He felt it through the king, small and stubborn, trying to hold the back line while frost climbed its legs.
"Pawn at F3, keep standing behind him until I move you."
The pawn planted both feet, and the lance slowed by a finger's width. That was all Ty needed.
