Ashley was stock still, watching. Sveta circled the room, flanking him.

He rushed me. I held up hands to either side, telling the others not to intervene.

With fear clutching my heart to alternately slow and hurry its beats, a sick weight in my stomach, and nervous energy running angry through my limbs, I caught Byron’s wrist as he reached for me, pulled it down, and used flight to help step into his stride, planting one foot such that it was right behind his, the length of my leg leaning against the side of his knee, keeping him from extending his leg. It put him off balance, and he grabbed me to try and regain that balance.

I didn’t need to care about weight or balance. I let flight carry me off the ground, got to the point my foot could touch down, and with a push forward, drove myself into him. He tumbled to the ground, started to grab my breastplate with both hands—and ended up grabbing it by one hand, because he might have stabbed himself on decorative spikes if he’d used the other hand.

He tried to pull me down on top of him, and I used flight to help arrest my fall. He was hanging off of my breastplate now.

“You have to realize there’s something wrong here!” he grunted.

Even being out of practice, after having my arm in a sling, followed by a move that saw my weights and bars packed up, and even with my injured arm not being at one hundred percent, I was stronger than him. His build was the build of an average guy who ate and exercised an average amount, but who had also never developed his strength.

Because it would make him too similar to his brother, maybe.

I hit his sternum with the heel of my hand. He let go, and he dropped to the floor. All of the negative emotions were stronger, not better, after this exercise, and it pained me. I didn’t want this to continue, I didn’t want to think about the situation with Goddess and Amy.

“Victoria!” Sveta called out. “Above!”

Water hit me perhaps half of a bathtub’s worth, with no pressure beyond the fact it dropped from ten or so feet above me. But the weight of it and the surprise made me sag, bringing me close enough for Byron to grab.

He’d had training. He was rustier than I was, but something went into him gripping my armor and the cloth of my costume, and using that leverage to hurl himself from a lying-down position to a position where he was beside me, pushing me. Blue motes swirled around us.

“Give me something!” he said.