Mavron grinned as he drew his blade. “Not so confident now, eh?”

Grinding her teeth, Torvia moved into position. Despite the morning’s exercises, Mavron still seemed fresh, and had a massive height and reach advantage over her.

“No magic,” Charla reminded them. “To be a royal guard, you must be able to fight on worlds without magic.”

Torvia clenched her jaw. This was going to hurt. But she wasn’t going to let Mavron or Charla or anyone else stand in her way. She deserved to be a royal guard. Prince Ademir needed her, and she wasn’t going to be left behind every time he went away. Not anymore. She had to pass this challenge.

With a scream, Mavron charged, his weapon raised.

Swiftly pulling out her own slender sword, Torvia ducked out of the way and jabbed forward. Mavron easily intercepted and shoved her back, before hammering his sword down. Without the slightest amount of restraint, he slammed his sword against hers again and again. He wasn’t even trying to get past her guard.

No matter how many times she dodged, he found a way to counteract her next move, forcing her to meet his blade. With every blow, he pushed her back, until he knocked her right over.

Torvia cursed as the others cheered, even the girl amongst them. Throwing herself out of the way, she narrowly avoided a slash to the stomach, but for a moment, Mavron was off balance.

She struck, but Mavron had anticipated her move, and swatted her away like a hapless locust. With one foot, he shoved her back into the ground.

Struggling for breath, Torvia rolled away, and leapt to her feet. This fight wasn’t going well. Despite its slender size, her sword already weighed her down, and her limbs ached with the effort.

Victory in his eyes, Mavron lunged, swiping down.

Torvia leapt forward, bracing for the pain as she blocked his sword. Her arm shuddered with the impact and her shoulder throbbed in protest, but her other hand was already sliding inside her tunic to the blade hidden within.

Malice twisted Mavron’s lips and he leaned into his sword, attempting to force her to the ground again. Until she slipped the dagger to his throat. “Do you yield?” she growled.

Mavron stiffened, his eyes going wide. “No,” he muttered. “You didn’t. You can’t.”

“Yield. My dagger is at your throat.”

Full of hate, Mavron’s eyes moved to hers. After a moment, he relaxed his posture, bringing his sword down. “You cheat,” he spat.

“A dagger is not magic.”

Mavron switched his gaze to Charla. “She forfeits the challenge,” he said assertively.

Unamused, Charla shook her head. “A guard thinks with her head as much as she uses her weapons.”

His temper getting the better of him, Mavron threw down his sword and glared at Torvia. “You’re only here because Prince Ademir favours you.”

Charla strode forward, her voice rising. “Torvia has just defeated you in spell and blade. She fully deserves to be here.”