The clash of spear and footfalls faded as Maris finally thrust forward, her spearhead stopping just shy of Cain's throat. The violet-scaled warrior stood with her chest rising and falling in sharp breaths, eyes narrowed with a flicker of satisfaction. Cain, hands raised in a mock surrender, tilted his head with a faint grin that carried no weight of defeat.
"Fine," he said, his voice light, almost teasing. "You win."
But the taste of victory soured almost instantly for Maris. Her spear lowered, but her golden eyes stayed locked on Cain. Something about the fight gnawed at her. It was too smooth. Too controlled. Like sparring against a man who had already decided the limits before the first blow was ever exchanged.
She slammed the butt of her spear into the stone floor, the sound sharp and ringing across the training ground. "Why?" she demanded, her voice edged like her weapon. "Why didn't you fight seriously?"
