I glance past him to see the guys following after us. “The thing is, Paxton,” I pause to crack my neck, my eyes landing back on him, “I know you’re a paladin.” He pulls back with wide eyes, and I shrug.
“You’re the first one I’ve met, and I’ll be damned if I pass up an opportunity to have a free for all with one of your kind.” I adjust my stance, widening my feet, and steadying myself on the grass. “So let’s do this okay? No holding back, have fun, and—Oh! Shoot one of those blasts at me. I want to see if they’re as hard to block as I’ve heard.”
“She’s insane. I knew it,” Declan’s mutter carries across the open space, and I turn to wink at him.
“I said pair off, not team off!” Professor Worgren calls out. “Leave the girl with Paxton. Someone ought to put her in her place.” I resist the urge to flip him off as the guys sigh and turn back to find their own partners.
Rory waves back to me as he goes. “It was nice knowing you, Serena! You will be missed.”
When he’s not looking, Dane whips around and gives me a thumbs-up, walking backwards a few paces before Rory sticks out his leg and sends him tumbling into the dirt. I chuckle, then turn back to my chosen foe who still looks at me doubtingly.
“Look, I know there’s a lot you guys don’t know about me, but know I can handle myself,” I summon my magic; bright green balls circle me, “and whatever you throw at me.”
A flash of darkness forces my attention away from Paxton, and when I turn to look, a long, wooden staff waits on the grass by my feet. I bend to pick it up, feeling its sturdy weight in my hands, satisfying and strong. I run my fingers along the smooth wood, feeling the natural grain, all the way to where it twists into a hook at the end. I slap it on my hand, then look back to my opponent. Paxton tilts his head curiously.
“So, paladin. Are you ready?”
He shakes his head slowly but raises his hands at the same time. I twist my staff in my hands, positioning it on the floor between my legs. “Come on,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.
In half a blink, Paxton is by my side. He directs an open-palmed strike to my shoulder, but just as quickly, I bring up my staff and catch his wrist, side-stepping away at the same time. I back up a few steps, keeping my strides wide. Paxton remains where I left him, one eyebrow raised and absently rubbing his wrist.
I raise my hands into a nonchalant shrug, but he takes the opportunity to lunge again. Without enough distance to strike, I place my staff a foot in front of my legs and leap forward, forcing my body up and over Paxton’s head. I roll as I land, and sweep my staff around, hooking it around his ankle and bringing him to the floor.
I dance up as he hits the ground and create more distance between us. He rolls on his shoulder, then pushes up so he is kneeling. He watches me, and I narrow my eyes on him with a challenging smirk. He nods once and stands.
As he does, he holds his right hand out to the side. A bolt of gold light seems to shoot down from the sky, blinding me for a moment. But when I look back, Paxton is holding a golden sword, the handle twisted with royal-blue leather up to the crossguard. The sun’s rays bounce off the deadly sharp blade as he brings it in front of him.
A lightness fills my chest, sending my pulse racing. Now we’re talking.
We lunge at the same time. I aim a strike for his sword-wielding hand, but he knocks me back with his foot to my chest. I hit the floor on my back with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. I groan and push onto my elbows, watching him from the ground as I recover. He holds the sword away from me as if reluctant to use it. I grit my teeth.
“Come on!” I say again, louder. I turn twice and land on my feet, then I lunge for him, sweeping across his body twice. He dodges the first move but then is forced to bring his sword forward to keep my staff from knocking him across the jaw. They clash together, and my arm bounces backwards from the force.
Panting, I take another step backwards; Paxton does too. His eyes are trained on my staff, and he frowns at it. I swing it in front of me, adding in a few twists for artistic flair.
“I guess your holy sword can’t cut through everything, huh?” I grin, and for the first time since meeting him, the hidden tension in his eyes drains away.
Was he really worried he would hurt me? I don’t have time to dwell on the fact as he flits backwards, much farther than he should be able to with only a couple of steps. A new gleam lies in his eyes that I can read perfectly.
I grip my staff tightly with both hands, my feet shuffling, finding new ground beneath me as I wait for him to strike. I barely have time to react when he shifts in front of me, impossibly fast, his sword swinging down. I duck as I raise my arms to block the blow, my staff held lengthways across my forehead, holding the blade of his sword only inches from my skull.
With our faces and bodies so close together, I can see the joy in his eyes and the challenge flowing in them. I send him a sly grin just before I bring my knee up and into
