William keeps up, but I can see the focus it requires. How careful his footwork becomes.

His opponent spent nearly two decades fighting demons, most of that time without inheritances. Without aether armor. William’s armor and skills are formidable, but he’s nowhere near as fast and strong as an uchel, and Jonas has been fighting them for years.

I know William; he doesn’t want to hurt Jonas if he doesn’t have to.

The demon’s claws left stinging wounds around both sides my throat. Panting, I push up on both hands. Push again, get a knee underneath me. One more time, both knees. Then I’m on my feet, wincing through the pain in my shoulders, throat, and back, but standing.

A yowl splits the air, high enough to hurt our ears. Sel has bent the goruchel’s arm back behind her. She swings wide with her free arm. He dodges her claws, doesn’t let go.

A heartbeat later, William gasps loud enough to draw me back to his fight with Jonas. Jonas must have disarmed him, because one of William’s daggers is blade down, upright in the ground.

Jonas’s eyes flash in my direction, then back to William. To Sel and the goruchel he has trapped in his grip. Back to me.

He makes a decision.

Flips the dagger in his palm, adjusting its weight and his grip.

“No!” William shouts.

Jonas pulls back—and time slows down.

The blade hurtles toward me, aimed right for my chest—and a body crosses my vision, intercepting it.

Time speeds up.

Sel is on the ground ten feet to my left, with a handle sticking out of his shoulder.

“No!” I lunge toward him, falling after the first step. See up close how the blade has disappeared into his body down to the hilt. He rolls to his back with a groan.

A hand spins me around. The goruchel is standing behind me, black blood oozing from the side of her lip. “This is your fault!”

Her fist is already in motion when—crack!—her punch is stopped midair by a shining hand.

The demon’s eyes go wide, stunned at the open palm that has stopped her attack.

My eyes follow the shimmering aether armor up the wrist holding her back, to the elbow, and finally to William’s face. I expect to see a clenched jaw, gritted teeth, the full-bodied effort of holding back an opponent with preternatural strength. Instead, there is only the determined, steady power of Gawain.

William holds the strongest of the greater demons—a full-blooded goruchel—without strain.

Because for two hours each day, the Scion of Gawain’s strength is unparalleled in either the demon or the Legendborn world.

And then, William uses that strength to close his fingers around her fist… and squeeze.

Kizia screams, loud and guttural. Struggles against his grip.

But he doesn’t stop.