She had always loved the way Talos fought.

  A small parry with the rapier, just barely making his thrust go wide.

  Not many duels in her life were close. Her mutations, though kept minor on the surface, were focused almost entirely on her senses. She processed the world faster, in higher detail, than any human ever could. She had forgone the superhuman regeneration or armored skin that other mutations offered, favoring total specialization into her agility.

  Or her Handler had made that choice for her, anyway.

  But even with her enhanced reflexes and inhuman grace, she was always a bit jealous of Talos. Even now, suffering through withdrawals, battered and damaged, his movements were snappy and efficient. He kept up with her purely through prediction and parries designed to give him any possible advantage in positioning.

  And, of course, the less orthodox methods that came from the Pits.

  She backstepped effortlessly to avoid a slash aimed at her neck, noting that he had kicked a splash of alley water at her ankles to distract her. Dirty. She liked it.

  He had probably learned those efficiency movements in the Crucible. Come to think of it, Rinerva did the same things. The Mage always kept her spells tight and efficient. Small spikes of ice rather than wide-area blizzards. She fought like she was disadvantaged—the way a commoner or a trench-mage would use their magic.

  Why?

  Why didn’t Rinerva use more sweeping spells? Even in situations where it would be optimal, the Mage never seemed to favor them. She fought like every drop of mana cost her money.

  Talos predicted a pinpoint strike, barely avoiding it, but still getting hit by the flat of her blade against his ribs.

  Now Lillik… Nomi’s mind drifted as she circled. Lillik was a fighter Nomi couldn’t appreciate. Despite her strength and her terrifying form, the Spider never trained. She favored raw biological power over technique. The Spider Witch always—

  Wait. Hold on. What was I doing again?

  Nomi’s attention locked back to the duel.

  Talos was lunging.

  In a blur of motion that the human eye couldn't track, she out-spaced the thrust by an inch, stepped inside his guard, and placed the point of her rapier gently against the pulse of his throat.

  “Warmed up?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Gonna stay focused this time?”

  “Mmm… Maybe when you aren’t half as fast as usual.”

  She shifted, keeping the tip of the rapier pressed lightly against his throat. She didn't pull back. Instead, she closed the distance, stepping inside his guard until she was leaning against him, the blade effectively pinned between them. Finally, she pulled the sword away, nestling comfortably against his chest for a fleeting second.

  She was worried about him.

  Agon had been an anchor for both of them. Even when they were fighting, he’d drag them together, never letting them drift apart.

  But even more than that, she was worried about herself.

  Without the suppressants, the whole world moved so slowly. The silence stretched out, giving her time to think. Time to remember.

  She thought about the way the Old Man would laugh, his chest rumbling like a landslide. She thought about the way Talos used to look at her before the betrayal. She thought about the cold metal tables, and the way the Handlers used to carve the scars into—

  “Nomi.”

  The voice was a beacon in the fog of her thoughts. Sharp. Real.

  She blinked, snapping back to the slick alleyway. Talos was looking down at her, his brow furrowed. He saw it. He saw the drift.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  Nomi swallowed the memory, gripping the hilt of her rapier until her knuckles turned white. She stepped back, raising the blade.

  “Wanna go again?”

  “Nomi, we should—”

  “Please.”

  Talos nodded. He raised his sword.

  He shut his eyes for a moment and let out a small, centering breath. When they opened again, the exhaustion was gone. The withdrawal was walled off behind a fortress of discipline. His hand stilled.

  A chill crept down Nomi’s spine.

  It was like when she—

  Her mind snapped back to reality as Talos shot forward. He closed the distance instantly. She parried the blow, but only just. He wasn’t sparring anymore. He was using his heavier blade to batter her rapier, using mass to put her off balance.

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  She took a half-step back, tilting her head away as a slash whistled past, barely avoiding her eye.

  They had cut her eyes open when—

  No. No time for that.

  She weaved, dodging the follow-up thrust. He wasn’t giving her time to get lost. He was demanding every ounce of her attention, forcing her to abandon the flowing river of memory and fix her whole existence on this single, violent moment.

  Talos advanced, sword low at his hip in Plow Guard.

  He shifted to the side, catching her rapier against his crossguard to bind the steel before driving forward.

  She scrambled back, snapping her hand high into Prima to lift her point over his bind. She twirled her blade around his, disengaging for a quick thrust from above.

  He read it. He slapped her blade aside with the flat of his own and followed through with a heavy thrust.

  She cheated.

  Using her enhanced speed, she let go of her sword with her left hand and snatched his wrist mid-air, shoving his thrust past her ear. The blade hummed as it sliced the air inches from her head.

  He didn't stop. He used the momentum to slam his shoulder into her chest, forcing her back two stumbling steps.

  He returned to a neutral guard, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  She hadn’t seen him like this in so long. Focused. Tactical. A feral grin playing on his lips as he hunted her.

  And all for her.

  Her vision tunneled. Her expression shifted to perfect, icy neutral as she dropped her hand into Secunda, knuckles turning outward to cover her flank.

  Talos met it by dropping his sword tip toward the dirt—Fool’s Guard.

  A stance that invited attack. A trap.

  Who would be the fool this time, Tal?

  She struck.

  She aimed for a high thrust to his exposed chest, moving faster than human thought. It was a strike too fast for him to react to.

  But he didn't react. He predicted.

  His sword snapped up from the ground, the false edge beating her blade away before she could extend fully. He stepped in, invading her space.

  She barely got her sword back down in time to deflect the counter. Desperate, she turned her hips and lashed out with a fist toward his neck.

  He tucked his chin, tanking the punch against his jawbone without flinching.

  His free hand shot out and caught her freehand’s wrist.

  Shit.

  For all her speed and grace, she was not stronger than Talos.

  He jerked her forward, his sword aligned to gut her. He didn’t pull the thrust. He knew her too damn well to think a half-hearted attack would end the fight.

  She cheated again.

  She jumped. Using his arm as a fulcrum, she flipped over the incoming blow, weightless as smoke. She slammed the heavy pommel of her rapier into his wrist the moment her boots hit the wet cobblestones, breaking his grip.

  She sprang free, resetting to neutral.

  She got lucky. Usually, when the two grappled, it ended the fight. She just wasn’t heavy enough to make him yield on the ground.

  She adjusted. Her blade shifted to Terza—Third Guard. Elbow tucked, point aligned, structure locked. It was a sturdy stance, no longer allowing him to bully her blade aside so easily.

  With her left hand, she pulled the parrying dagger from her back sheath, raising it high. Two blades. No more grappling.

  Talos saw the shift. He changed tactics.

  He raised his sword high back over his right shoulder—Zornhut. The Guard of Wrath.

  A gamble. He was winding up for a massive, guard-breaking cleave. He wanted to force her to block so he could shatter her defense with sheer kinetic force.

  His idea was right. In a static clash, he could crush Nomi’s guard. But she wasn’t going to give him that opportunity. She would dodge. So what was he playing at?

  He shifted forward. His hand flicked out.

  Grit and alley dirt slammed into her eyes.

  Right.

  Pit Fighter.

  Blindness washed over her. The sting was immediate and watering.

  But she didn't panic.

  All of her senses shifted to her ears. The world slowed down.

  She heard the leather of his boots creak. She heard the whistle of the blade cutting the air as the Wrath strike descended. She heard the thump-thump of his heart.

  She didn't need to see.

  She stepped in, raising her dagger to catch the heavy blade, letting the steel slide off her crossguard, while her rapier lunged at the sound of the heartbeat.

  The motion stopped.

  The motion stopped. The blade halted inches from her arm. She felt his body go still. The tip of her rapier was pressed gently against the pulse of his neck.

  “...Fuck.”

  She let out a breath, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She kept the sword steady, even as tears streamed from her irritated eyes. She heard the distinctive shink of him sheathing his sword.

  “You’re dead,” she whispered, finally lowering her weapon to rub at her face.

  “I wish I had a longsword.” He replied with a grumpy sigh, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Or my spear for an offhand.”

  “Excuses,” she whispered, tears still leaking from her screwed-shut eyes.

  He caught her hands gently, stopping her from rubbing the grit deeper into her eyes. He led her to a rain barrel near the back wall, sitting her down on an overturned crate. He uncorked his waterskin.

  “Head back.”

  She obeyed. He poured a steady, cool stream over her face.

  “Blink.”

  She did so, blinking rapidly. The water flushed the alley dirt away. The sting remained, but her vision cleared. She looked up at him, hair plastered to her forehead, blinking up at his blurred form.

  “So dishonorable,” she teased, her voice thick.

  “Mm. What were you going to tell me? Before we started?”

  Nomi blinked the last of the water away. She looked at him—really looked at him. The sweat on his brow, the concern in his eyes, the way his hands lingered near her face.

  “I missed you.”

  Talos paused. His eyes widened ever so slightly. He pulled the waterskin back, corking it slowly to buy himself a second of time.

  He grumbled something indecipherable under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “...I missed you too.”

  She glowed, a genuine smile breaking through. She stood up, bumping her hip solidly into his as she brushed past him toward the door.

  “Come on, Tal. Let’s see what the Ice Queen has for us.”

  They made their way back inside. Her mind was spinning from the adrenaline of the training and the warmth of his words. For the first time in days, her thoughts were too busy, too grounded, to drift anywhere else.