Beneath the Winter Moon
Blair noticed.
And smiled.
“You’re holding back,” Blair breathed, ducking another hit. “You’re afraid you’ll hurt them. That’s what makes you weak.”
She slipped a hand under her cloak, drawing something gleaming.
A dagger.
The blade shimmered faintly in the light, a silver curve ending in a moonstone pommel. The air around it hummed with cold intent.
Celeste’s blood ran cold. “Where did you...”
Blair lunged.
Celeste barely dodged the first strike, the dagger grazing her shoulder. She hit back, grabbing Blair’s wrist, forcing her backward toward the stairs. They struggled, boots slipping on shattered glass. The dagger flashed again, high, low, then high again.
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