“I was raised as the heir to a throne, forced into a war at twenty-years old, then lived in fear of another war for three hundred years. I know how to use a sword,” she snaps back. I give her a half-smile to hide my own horror at her response, my grief for who she’s been forced to become.

“Then use everything you’ve learned, but just make the weapons out of light. Light sparring is better and different, because you have every type of weapon at your disposal. A long sword can instantly become a dagger when the fighting gets close but can morph into a shield when you need it.”

She nods, then creates a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. “Let’s get started, princeling,” she teases, and a primal instinct washes over me, excited to spar with her. But the excitement that heats my core differs from the jolt of energy I feel when I spar with Fionn or Silene. It’s a challenge and a soothing caress all at once, like there’s something I’ve been waiting for, and it will finally click into place when we spar. I conjure a sword and dagger of my own, then launch myself at her.

She blocks me with her sword, then swipes her dagger, demonstrating competent weapons wielding. But I’m better and faster. I spin, easily avoiding her slice and moving behind her. I wrap my arm around her waist, then hold my dagger to her throat. Her ass brushes against my upper thighs, and I breathe heavily with the effort of keeping a respectable distance between us.

“You should have shifted your sword into a shield to block,” I whisper into her nape, and she shivers. “It would have allowed you to use my momentum against me. Plus, we’re trying to develop instinctually shifting between forms. Don’t rely on the weapons as they are. Morph them into what you need.” I release her, instantly feeling the absence of her in my arms, and she stalks away, her own deep breaths making her breasts lift in a rhythm that draws my eyes. I forcefully wrench my gaze to her face, which is fixed with determination.

“Got it. Ready for another round?” she asks, eyes bright.

I lunge again, this time with my dagger, trying to bring her into a fight at close quarters so I can touch her again. She lets me get the dagger inches from her midriff before her left hand makes a small shield and forces me back. Her other hand swings her sword toward me. She’s taken control of the fight, and my cock twitches as I imagine her taking control of other situations. But I don’t intend to let her keep the upper hand for long.