chapter eighteen

"Point, the lady."

Kiera lowered her practice sword from Enge's throat.
"How many times do I have to beat your friend here before you belive it isn't just a fluke?"
She'd gone all out on the first round, and after more than could be counted she was exhausted. It had been early evening when they'd started and the sun was setting already.
"You stop when Enge can't fight anymore, or when you can't fight anymore. If you use magic then you're disqualified."
"Tournament rules? You really think a tournament is any indication of real combat?"

She had to admit, they weren't far off. While she'd never been competitive with her martial training, it was an element of the ascendancy tradition. The council had informed her that in such a civil competition against non-magic users, a mage was expected to refrain from using their powers. In all honesty, she didn't know any spells that could be used to give her an edge that didn't either kill outright or take time to prepare. She'd mostly learned combat magic as a backup self defense measure, she never intended to lead troops in battle.

"Captain, this is humiliating. Can we just stop now?"
"Are you conceding? Point Kiera."

Enge put the knives down, "Yes, I can only bear losing so many times a day, eventually I have to admit it."
Kiera sighed in relief. "Then you'll follow me when I go?"
"Milady, I'd follow you anywhere. But I'd gladly serve you now."
So the taskmaster had a heart in their somewhere.
"Have your men ready in three days. I should be ready by then."
"As you wish, princess."
"You mentioned a room yesterday; I'd like to see it now."
"Of course, right this way."