Sang's Dragon

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I nodded at Monroe, signalling my readiness. I didn't have time to hunt down the cloaked woman and demand answers. I needed to focus. 

"Which would you prefer first, Tenebrous rider?" Monroe asked. His eyes said that I was weak. That I wasn't deserving of my dragon. With Gideon pressing forth, I felt stronger than I'd ever felt in my life. What did the opinion of a smarmy man matter to me, or my dragon?

Nothing.

Not when I had the strength of a Tenebrous at my disposal. Not with a team full of men glaring daggers at the councilman, ready to defend my honor. And certainly not when I had four of my Zalfari friends there to watch me prove him wrong.

Withdrawing my engraved sword from its sheath, I looked him dead in the eye and twirled it through the air. "Let's get this started, then."

•••

Henry

Smart girl. She knew that she needed to pick her biggest weakness and make it her first task. Although Sang was strong and skilled, sword work was what she struggled with the most, and she planned to wipe it under the rug before she got too weary.

A tall and willowy looking boy stopped in front of Sang. His tanned face was set in a mask of burning hot hatred as he looked down on her, literally and figuratively. The top of Sang's head just barely reached his chest, but that didn't stop her from looking him straight in the eye with a calm composure. 

Following custom, Sang bowed her head in a gesture of goodwill, and didn't care to look offended when her sparring partner didn't return it. Bastard boy.

The two began to warily circle each other, swords pointed forward and at the ready.

The Blackbourne team boys sported expressions that varied between angry...and angry. It amused me greatly. 

"Calm down fellas and have a little faith in her," I said. Several of them shot me glares, which earned them a little tongue lashing from my dear. I kissed the top of her head and chuckled. Even after so many years, the woman never ceased to amaze me.

Concentrating back on the pit, I watched as the tall and willowy boy made the first move. Almost quicker than my eyes could track, he lunged forward, and Sang narrowly dodged the sharp steel making a jab at her left shoulder. Throwing herself to the right, the momentum had her tucking and rolling through the dirt before she hopped back up to her feet.

When the boy made a second attempt, Sang parried his move with her own strike, the two weapons loudly clashing together. The watching students might've despised what she stood for, but they were just as curious to see what she could do.

Not giving Sang a chance to re-balance herself, the boy unleashed the restraint he displayed. It wasn't a pretty dance, it was fast and brutal. The boy swung unforgiving blows and she managed to block every single one of them. My grip on the bench tightened when the male got his opening and smashed the pummel of his sword into Sang's nose. 

She stumbled back and fell onto her hind end, her hand moving to catch the blood beginning to pour. I grimaced knowing that she would be coming out of the fight with several injuries, injuries that would be joining the one already on her back. North jumped to his feet, looking about ready to rush to her side, but before he could get anywhere, his foreign friend had to physically restrain him.