He comes at me again. Strike, parry, strike. I may not know much, but I know I can’t keep up with him. I’m so caught up in blocking his attacks that I have no chance to counter. When the sun shines right into my eyes, I realize he’s maneuvered me to face it.

Scars, I should have known better than this.

I’m squinting now, and my eyes water from the glare. His sword comes down once, twice, and then connects soundly with my forearm. I cry out and drop my sword just as he knocks the wind from my ribs. I collapse on the ground, gasping.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cas wipe the dust off his sword. And I steel myself for the commander’s reaction.

“You have some training,” Arxa says. “We’ll see if we can find anything about your origins. If we can’t find anything, perhaps you could enlist as a foot soldier.”

I’m not sure quite what it is—the soft grind of a footstep maybe, or a subtle change in where Arxa’s looking. But before I know it, I’ve spun and ducked just in time to avoid getting my skull caved in by another practice sword—this one held by the big soldier. Shock runs through me, followed by a wave of rage. The man could have killed me! My body moves of its own accord. I close the distance between us and drive my fist into his rib cage. As he doubles over, I wrap his arm under my armpit and bear down on his wrist until he gives up his sword. I back away, holding his weapon at the ready.

I sneak a quick glance at the commander. His expression is inscrutable, and I don’t waste any more time puzzling him out, because now there’s heat pumping through my veins. I relax into a guard stance—not the same one I copied off Cas earlier. My feet want to be wider apart, my legs want more coil. Cas is watching me, his eyes wary. I give a quick nod, an invitation.

This time, when he comes at me, I know what to do. I parry his first strike and then drive back, concentrating my attack on his right. He takes one step in retreat, and then another. When he takes two more steps back, I don’t follow. Instead, I back up until I’m standing over my fallen practice blade. Without lowering my eyes, I scoop it up with my free hand, and then I charge. My right blade cuts down and across, and the left one follows an eyeblink later. He deflects my first two blows, and the return blow after that as well. But my fourth strike catches him in the ribs and he falls.