Swift’s too busy trying to pry his hand from her scalp to block the next punch. It splits her lip. His knee smashes into her stomach, and she lets out a bloody gasp as Code shoves her backward, sending her sprawling on her back.

His leg is halfway into the kick when Santa Elena snaps, “Enough!”

Code’s toes stop just short of Swift’s ribs. He scoffs, rolls his shoulders, and turns his back on her, trotting over to rejoin us. At the edge of the mats, he pauses. “Hey Swift,” he calls.

She groans, still flat on her back.

“How about you try something a little more your speed.”

And before I can pull back, Code lunges forward, grabs me by the wrist, and yanks me onto the mats. A murmur of surprise rises from the crowd. He steps around behind me and shoves me in the back, sending me stumbling toward Swift.

The brightness of the lights is paralyzing. Up above, the shadowy figure of Santa Elena has risen to her feet. When she speaks, it feels like her words surround me. “Do you have any combat training, Cassandra?”

The mutters in the crowd complete her sentence. Or do you let your monsters do all your fighting for you?

I tell her exactly what she wants to hear. “None whatsoever.”

Swift crawls to her feet. She swipes at her busted lip, drawing a thick red line across the back of her forearm. Her hair is a ruffled mess, half of it flipped the wrong way over, the other half hanging in her eyes. “Boss—” she starts, still a little winded.

Santa Elena cuts her off with a wave and says to me, “Land a hit on her and I’ll call the fight.”

It might be the most generous thing the captain has ever offered me. There’s still a part of me that balks, that wants to jump off the mats and retreat to the safety of the trainer deck. But after almost three months of making myself as small as possible on this ship, I can’t pass up a chance to be a little big again.

And I’ve landed a hit on Swift before.

I bring my fists up and square off, and immediately the Slew echoes with shouts of glee. I meet Swift’s eyes.

But she’s laughing at me as she sweeps back her hair. “You hit me like that and you’ll break a thumb for sure,” she snorts. “Fists with thumbs on the outside.”

I frown, adjusting my hands.

“And keep your weight back. That’s where your power comes from.”

“You sound like you want me to hit you.”

“You look like you need all the help you can get.” She brings her own hands up, palms open, and takes a step forward.