05: Let's fight, your Highness

SORAYA

A lot had changed about me, which was why I had put to use the very first thing I had learned as a Wolf Hunter:

To survive in the supernatural world, never show them fear, always make them know you are in charge. These creatures feed on fear, and you should learn to not give them a taste.

A little research and my very informative roommate had given me an insight into the student hierarchy of Fenrir, and so when I had walked in on Ethan and Elle arguing, I knew exactly who they were and what to do. Ethan Farrow, son of the Alpha of Fenrir Pack. Elle Farrow, Ethan’s sister — and a total spoilt brat.

"I see that the little witch has found a friend," Elle sneered at Adele, who was standing behind me with a scared look on her face, clutching her book tightly like it would save her from the wrath that was Elle Farrow.

"Something that your sorry ass could not do right?" I snapped back.

"Who the heck do you think you are talking to!" Elle stood up from her seat with her wolf speed and raised her hand to land a smack on my face.

I was quick to see the attack as I parried it with my hand, fiercely gripping Elle’s raised palm. "I would not do that if I were you, Farrow."

"Let go of her this instant, Karter!"

What the heck? My hold loosened from Elle’s hand, and the latter immediately jerked free as we both spun around to look at him.

"Daryl," Elle squeaked — an act that made me roll my eyes.

"You seem to forget where you are, Karter," he started. "Causing trouble on your first day at school is not nice."

"And I never said I play nice, Your Highness?" I bit back, drawing on the title with scorn.

"You are on Fenrir Pack lands. You should do well to remember that and not overstep your boundaries."

"Pack laws don't hold weight in the academy."

"But the laws of Nevanda apply everywhere in this country, including the Academy, and so as the Prince of Nevanda, I say go find your seat and stop causing trouble."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping dangerously, "That is an order, Soraya Karter."

"I think you got on the Crown Prince’s nerves. He has never butted into petty arguments like the one with Elle before."

"Well, the Prince can go eff himself," I snapped at Adele, infuriated at the bitterness that I had felt when the incident had happened.

Adele’s face fell at my tone, and I almost felt bad that I had snapped at the girl. Almost.

I let out a ragged breath.

The next class was sparring — the only class I had looked forward to since my first two classes this morning — only because I had taken a liking to swords and spears during my six-month training with Quinn.

The sparring gym was like an ancient armory in a sense — all steel and wood and metal of all shapes and sizes. Two sparring mats sat in the middle of the gym, and the instructor stood beside them as the students filled up the room.

"Welcome, second-year students, to your first sparring class," the instructor started.

"My name is Sorren, and I will be your sparring instructor for the rest of the academic year."

I huffed with a bored expression, my only interest was in the weapons that glimmered brightly against the walls of the gym.

"What? This place does not suit your ego?"

Fuck it. I swallowed an exasperated sigh — he just had to be here. Of course he was here. We were classmates after all.

I pressed my lips tightly together as Daryl came to stand beside me. I tried not to look, tried not to acknowledge the inescapable warmth that flushed my body at his presence beside me. Heavens, this was wrong. I kept quiet, deliberately ignoring him. If I pretended he did not exist, then maybe I would be able to focus on my plans to kill him instead of trying to decipher why my heart rate seemed to accelerate when he was near.

"You won’t speak to me?" Daryl probed just at the same time as the instructor asked, "Who would go first?"

Go first for what?

"Karter and I!" Daryl spoke up, and then he looked back at me with a grin and suddenly pointed the blade of his sword dangerously to my neck — a sword I had no idea he had on until now.

Never lose focus. He made me lose it.

"Spar with me, Karter."

Right, sparring.

I stared at the Crown Prince with a frown, my eyes narrowing on him as he held his sword to my neck.

It was a dangerous position because just a little movement from him would draw blood from my neck, and yet I could feel the rush of adrenaline at the challenge — and also something else that I would never agree on. A feeling that must not be named.

"You have no idea what you are asking for, Your Highness," I stated with an eye roll.

"Confident much, aren’t you?" Daryl smirked — an act that had his lips puckering up and his eyes crinkling. "You sure don’t think you are going to win me?"

"You are delusional if you think you would win me," I countered. The Prince had an ego that irked me. "I'm just not interested in beating up your sorry ass on my first day in school."

"Are you scared you might lose?" he sneered, his golden brown orbs flashing at his challenge — an indication that he was enjoying this.

Heavens. I was not here to dilly-dally or play cat and mouse with the Prince. I was here to kill him. Yet I was just as tempted to agree to his challenge. What could go wrong if I did?

"Soraya Karter?" Instructor Sorren called out.

I ripped my gaze from Daryl and turned to face the instructor. I had almost forgotten that we were in the presence of our instructor and every other classmate.

"We do not have all day. Now get on the mat with Daryl Ender."

Daryl brought down his sword at the instructor’s order.

The Prince did not need to press on — even the instructor had already decided. With a huff, I went for the mat as Daryl followed behind.

"Now since the Prince has his weapon with him, I want you to try to disarm him. You will follow my instructions, and the others will watch. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," I answered along with the mumbles of reply from the other students.

We locked gazes as we circled each other on the mat.

Focus, I chided myself, breathing in a heavy sigh as Daryl raised his sword to attack. I blocked and swerved to avoid the attack, showing up behind him.

"I never said you could attack, Prince Daryl!" the instructor snapped.

Daryl turned to face me. "I don’t think we need your instructions, Instructor Sorren. Can you not see that we both know what we are doing?" he said, without taking his gaze off me. "Right, Karter?"

I scoffed, seeing the hidden glint in his eyes. It was like he was testing a theory, perhaps trying to gauge my skills. Well, two can play the game. "Of course, Your Highness. We can do this without the instructions."

Daryl did not wait for another word from Instructor Sorren before he swung his blade and struck again. I slid away fluidly, the blade of Daryl’s sword swinging at the vacant air of where I had been. A thrill surged through me at the challenge.

"Very well," Daryl remarked, as he continued his attacks, feints and strikes alike aimed at my head, neck, shoulders, legs, and arms; each dodge and block executed flawlessly and expertly.

If I had not been trained, I would have gotten hit twice or even more, but the smug look on the Prince’s face told me that he had somehow guessed my prowess and just wanted to see what I was capable of.

The instructor and our classmates faded into the background as we continued our sparring — the swings and evasion like a ballroom dance, a series of steps and patterns, while we danced around each other, circling, attacking, and defending. Each move was executed perfectly, each attack flawlessly.

And then the moment came; Daryl lunged towards me, and I barely managed to dodge him at the last minute. A swift move had me kicking the sword from his hands, and then I had him on his back, my arms caging his own against his chest and my knees pressed to his abdomen.

I had a smug look on my face as I spoke up. "How'd you like that, your Highness?"

"That’s enough, both of you!" Instructor Sorren shouted, and I stood up, letting go of Daryl.

Two could definitely play the game.