"I'm not telling him that."

Typhon glares at me, but says no more.

We resume our sparring, but the atmosphere has shifted, the earlier tension giving way to something almost playful. Raith even offers occasional corrections without his usual brusque efficiency, explaining the reasoning behind certain movements, showing me how to use my smaller size to my advantage.

"You're thinking too much," he says after a particularly complex sequence leaves me winded and frustrated. "You're trying to match my strength instead of using your speed."

"Easy for you to say," I grumble, pushing sweat-dampened hair from my forehead. "You're built like a wall."

"Alright. If I'm a wall, then what chance of winning do you have if you try to be a smaller wall?"

My sour look is all the answer he gets.

"You're quick, Nessa. And clever. Use that. Don’t smash a wall into a wall. Climb it. Find a way around it."

I attack again, trying to follow his advice. Instead of meeting his powerful strikes directly, I redirect them, using his momentum against him. For several exchanges, we're evenly matched—until my foot slips on a patch of damp stone, throwing me off balance.

Raith's training sword halts a breath from my throat. In the same instant, my rapier stops just short of his ribs, a lucky reflex that saved me from total defeat.

"Draw?" I suggest, breathing hard.

His eyes drop to my blade, then back to my face. "Impressive recovery."

We're standing close—too close, with my back nearly against the wall and his larger frame blocking any escape. I can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, sense the barely restrained power in his body. His eyes hold mine, and it feels like there's something there… something more than just a casual training session.

Almost as if I'm not the only one who is battling to keep things clinical.

"Raith," I begin, not sure what I'm going to say.

He steps back, lowering his sword. "Again."

But when we resume, Raith's movements are more aggressive, his strikes coming faster and with more force. It's as if he's suddenly trying to put me through my paces, pushing me harder than ever before.

I match him as best I can, frustration building with each failed attack. He's deliberately keeping me at a distance now, physically and otherwise, and I can't understand what changed.

When he disarms me yet again, my patience snaps. "What is your problem?"

Raith stares at me, breathing hard, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "What?"

"One minute you're actually being decent, almost friendly, and the next you're treating me like I'm just another training dummy for you to beat on." I retrieve my rapier, pointing it at him accusingly. "So what is it? What changed?"

"Nothing changed." He turns away, moving to replace his sword on the rack.

"Bullshit." I step between him and the rack, blocking his path. "Tell me."

"Move, Nessa."

"No."