It was a genuine, hard-earned victory. Ever since he had walked through the front doors from Daphne's place and immediately dragged Arya out to the poolside mats, she had been ruthlessly schooling him. For the last two hours, Zaeryn had spent considerably more time kissing the floor than standing on his own two feet.
Though that wasn't entirely her fault. When they had first started, Arya had been almost careful with him.
Measured. Her strikes came in clean but pulled, her takedowns controlled, like she was calibrating exactly how much he could absorb before she'd genuinely hurt him.
However she soon realized she had massively underestimated him as he had hit back harder than she'd expected. She'd paused, looked at him with those bright, curious eyes, and recalibrated in real time.
After that, the gloves came off. Not violently, not cruelly, but honestly. She stopped managing him and started actually fighting him, and the difference was immediate and humbling.
