“The Ember Princess?” I echo, dubious. My magic is a hot stone in my chest, but I don’t know how to push that magic outward.

“Surely even you’ve heard of her. Sister and future advisor to the Sun’s Heir. Soon to be the second-most powerful shaman in Thiy once her brother takes the Radiant Throne. Et cetera, et cetera. They have a ridiculous number of titles.”

I’m tempted to point out his lengthy introduction in the library yesterday, but I valiantly refrain. My focus remains only on not letting him gain the upper hand. His shadows block me in, driving me backward until my heels bump the stone rail that braces the stairs.

“So,” I say, grunting as my back hits the stone. “If you’re already engaged to a Nuvali princess, then why would you need Ronin’s help in keeping the peace between your kingdoms? Unless you want help getting out of the engagement?”

Theyen smirks and cuts upward. I slam my swords together, metal singing as the blades catch and lock around his dagger. The stone rail digs into my lower back, but I use the leverage to shift my weight and drive my knee into his gut. His grip slackens. I shove him away, plant one foot on his stomach, and flip backward onto the rail. My other foot smashes into his jaw, knocking him to the ground.

I’m on top of him before he can regain his feet. I stab both blades into the earth at either side of his neck, pinning him. A feral smile pulls at my lips. I know I’ve won as I straighten, backing off him even before his shadows leap between us.

“Am I right?” I ask, because I want to hear him concede.

He doesn’t reply. He reaches up, grabs my swords, and gingerly tugs them free. Tossing them at my feet, he stands but doesn’t attack again. We’re both still, breathing hard. His shadows fade and dissipate, scattering like wisps of smoke.

He looks to where the emerging sunlight slowly edges away the darkness and then lowers his gaze to mine. “So much for your conviction.”

In truth, the words sting because he’s right—I didn’t try hard enough to summon my craft. This match may have ended with my swords at his neck, but I didn’t win. Not the way I should have. My shoulders tense with annoyance.

Outwardly, though, I roll my eyes. “We could try again.” A single fight can’t be indicative of much, can it?

Apparently, it can. Theyen shakes his head and sheathes his dagger. “You’ve been trained to rely entirely on your physical skills, something you can’t easily unlearn. I suspect for this to work, you need to believe you’re in genuine danger.”