The day was only half over, but Squirt wanted nothing more than her bed. Healing took a lot of energy out of a fey, and hers was clearly flagging.

  Still, she got directions for where Instructor Hawke would be before she left Lord Everwinter’s office, declining a damned escort. She didn’t fucking need one. Alone, no one would judge her for sticking to the walls and shadows, hiding behind corners and generally remaining unseen. Not everyone was as friendly as the three stooges and his lordship. That was made abundantly clear by the conversations she overheard as she went.

  “—hear about that greenling—”

  “—ridiculous—”

  “—strange bed companion for him, but no judgement here—”

  “—gut the trumped up chit if I could—”

  Yep. Much better if she remained invisible as much as possible.

  Avoiding the eyes of everyone she passed, she made her way out to the training yard, darting into a shadow to observe the space and be as unobtrusive as possible as she sought out Sir Hawke.

  The instructor was standing in the scant shade of midday, along with a giant beast of a man with bright blond hair and a wild blond beard. Just standing there in the minimal leather pleated skirt, chest piece, and shoulder pads of shifter armor, his arms folded over his chest, he radiated pure power in a way most fey only dreamed of being able to do.

  They were deep in conversation as they stood watching the trainees and guards run through drills at the behest of one of the other instructors, separated enough from the group that Squirt might be able to avoid interrupting the drills entirely.

  Especially since several of those present included ones that had repeatedly shown open hostility towards her.

  Deciding to take her chances with the powerhouse of a shifter Instructor Hawke was speaking to, Squirt kept to the shadows along the wall, darting across the yard and coming to a stop within polite distance. Far enough to show respect, close enough to keep volume low.

  She waited, knowing better than to interrupt, and doing her best to not listen. Some fey could detect lies, so it was often easier to be willfully ignorant instead of being forced to keep a secret. And with power like he had, she would rather assume he could than he couldn’t.

  Finally, there was a break in the conversation between the two men as they shifted, standing straight, their heads no longer bent towards each other in quiet discussion. Giving it an extra moment just in case for pure politeness, she then said in a quiet but clear voice, “Instructor—”

  Or she tried to.

  The moment noise left her lips, the shifter spun around, a live blade stopping just before it beheaded her. Instructor Hawke’s hand stopped the swing with a simple touch on the man’s sword arm, visible relief on his face as he exhaled.

  Beyond them, the entire courtyard had come to a stop.

  The shifter blinked before chuckling, straightening and placing the sword back in his sheath, his dark eyes twinkling with good natured humor. “Forgive me, little one. It’s been years since someone has snuck up on me.”

  Yeah. Because she had too little magic to register as a threat to him without radiating an intent to kill him, and he’d almost killed her because of it. And Tobias wondered why she was always so jumpy.

  Shit. She’d almost died just now.

  Through sheer force of will, she didn’t collapse on the ground, though her knees shook no matter how hard she locked them in place.

  His eyes roamed over her, the dark brown of shifter magic as he assessed her. “Hm. I see, I see. You must be the little huntress I’ve heard so much about.”

  Withdrawing into herself after the near death and shoving away her terror, Squirt bowed politely, keeping her eyes down and cadence level. “You honor me, my lord.”

  She was pretty sure she heard a scoff amongst those training. Or rather, amongst those who had been training, only now they were staring in their direction. Whoever the big shifter was, he was clearly a big deal, the focus of everyone’s attention. Any attention on her was auxiliary to this fey’s magnetic pull.

  He grinned down at her as Instructor Hawke rubbed his chin, saying, “Lass, I don’t believe I got to see you in a practice bout.”

  It wasn’t a question, so she remained silent.

  Nodding to himself, he commanded the group effortlessly. “Enough drills. Let’s switch to practice matches.” There were a few whoops of excitement from the group and plenty of laughter as they changed formation, the first pairing being called out.

  Instructor Hawke returned his attention to Squirt. “You too, lass.”

  He must have read the question on her mind, his eyes twinkling as he grinned and said, “Any weapon.” He pointed to a neat set of barrels and buckets. “Practice ones are over there.”

  She bowed first to the larger of the two shifters, then to Instructor Hawke before trotting over to look over the weapons. Meanwhile, the first match between the other guards and trainees was underway based on the cheers of the crowd.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Squirt took her time, dreading this already, making sure to pick practice blades with good balance. They were all enchanted, and she took the time to decipher the meaning of the runes written into their beings, intrigued. Bluntness was mixed with a color spell in an interesting combination.

  Decided, she trotted back to Instructor Hawke, holding the two knives in her hands and stretching her still stiff muscles, something the healing potion wouldn’t have helped with. He waited until she was fully loose, several more matches going by before she nodded to him, and he announced her next.

  “Lother, you against the lass.”

  Squirt didn’t know Lother, but she didn’t need to. The big redheaded shifter scoffed, his golden eyes flashing in a bit of barely concealed indignant arrogance as he sized her up.

  Her eyes flickered back to Instructor Hawke. His silver eyes were twinkling.

  Great. Dick waving.

  Resigned to her fate, she pursed her lips as she trotted out and held up the blades in ready position. The redhead had to be at least twice her height. There was a hint of cruelty glinting in his eyes as he glared at her, silently accusing her for making him deal with the greenling.

  She waited.

  The instructor in charge called it and he sprang into action in a large overhead swing that would kill her, bluntness enchantment or no, if it made contact.

  Luckily for her, his arrogance was his undoing. His stance clearly pointed to his experience being with bigger opponents. While he left no openings to attack with for an opponent of the right size, his legs were wide open. Springing forward, she sliced the blade along the inside of his pelvis, right where the big artery was as she rolled between his bowed legs.

  Right next to his cock.

  He went down, his blade dropped as his hands covered his crotch. She may have gone for a slice maneuver, but she hit hard enough in a delicate place to leave no one in any question that she had hit him.

  And she might have hit him harder than she meant because she was angry and let it get the better of her.

  Instructor Hawke barked out a laugh as his companion gave her a wild grin. The rest of the courtyard went silent except for the pained groans of Lother.

  The presiding instructor grinned and gestured to her. “Winner, Squirt of Everwinter!”

  Rather than the cheers of previous bouts for the declared winners was a chorus of dissatisfied murmurs. One braved the crowd, stepping into the circle while others blocked Squirt from exiting. Another large bulky one she didn’t recognize with the features of a leopard. A d’mi, a type of fey that, rather than having multiple forms like a shifter, had their souls combined with an animal and only one form.

  He grinned, canines glinting in the light, the expression promising violence with his cruelty as he said, “Let me have a go at yers, I’ll put’cha in yer place.”

  Trapped, she swallowed thickly. Shit.

  Instructor Hawke called out, “Alright, Terton. Let’s see what you can do against the lass.”

  Balking and jaw dropping, she could do nothing but swallow in fear, returning to the center of the group filled with much larger, bulkier fey. Trembling a little at the sheer amount of menace radiating from the man, she took up a fighting stance.

  This man carried an axe instead of a longsword. The whole thing from handle to blade tip was bigger than she was. He held it horizontally, clearly having learned from his predecessor, ready to swipe right at her stomach.

  He wouldn’t be making the same dumb mistake of leaving himself wide open.

  Gritting her teeth and hoping she survived, her muscles bunched, waiting for the signal.

  With the first sound from the instructor’s mouth, before he’d even finished the word, “Begin!” the d’mi swung his ax with enough power to obliterate her spine should the attack hit. Likely expecting her to jump up and fly with her wings.

  Not a chance. Instead, Squirt dropped to the ground and rolled under the swing of the blade, springing back up. He was fast—faster than the previous opponent—so before she could get any closer his blade was changing direction.

  Jumping and rolling forward over her shoulder, the blade of the axe slammed into the ground behind her, sending a cloud of dirt everywhere as he roared in triumph, and she rolled to a stop behind him. In the man’s shadow, she quickly touched her blade to his clothes to mark them and end the bout before he killed her, only she forgot about his tail.

  Real leopard tails weren’t prehensile.

  His tail wrapped around her ankle and yanked. Stunned by the move, she fell on her back, the air knocked from her lungs when a boom loud enough for her ears to ring sounded, sending another plume of dust out that coated her body and lungs as she desperately tried to inhale.

  The tail released her. Blinded by the dust, she rolled onto her knees and hacked, coughing out dust as quickly as she inhaled it. Something picked her up, bringing her to fresh air with dizzying speed and a yank on her gut, and in the next second, she vomited.

  And thanked her lucky stars she never ate the lord’s confections in his office. Vomiting up fudge would be sacrilege.

  Eyes blurry with tears, she heard rather than saw the big blond shifter as he yelled at those remaining. The words were unintelligible past the roaring in her ears until she managed to finally gulp in air.

  “—bring shame to her majesty’s Royal Guard. And you! You swore a vow to protect the weak. And yet you attempt to crush her? Accept your loss with dignity. She was faster than you.”

  “But my lord, she—”

  He roared out, “She bested me as well, you fool!”

  Dead silence rang out.

  He continued, “That is a feat worthy of my respect, not my condemnation. Terton and Lother, you are both on punishment duty for the next two weeks for shaming me in front of my own gods damned teacher.”

  A quiet, gruff voice said, “You alright there, lass?” by her ear, the large hand on her back helping her to expel the last of the dirt from her lungs. Gulping in air and humiliated, she staggered to her feet, wiping the tears from her face as best as she could.

  Gods damned titled fey were just making everything worse and putting a bigger damn target on her back.

  Fuckers.

  Spitting out a mix of mucus, vomit, and dirt, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and stumbled forward towards the big blond shifter in the center of the ring. His glare softened, though he did not smile as he assessed her.

  Bending down, she picked up the practice blades in her hands that she had dropped, flipping them. Then she waited, daring to glare a challenge up into the man’s eyes.

  He studied her seriously. Slowly, his lips curled into a wild grin. “Aye, ready for your next bout, lass?”

  Nope. Never. If she could never have another bout again for the rest of her days, it would be too soon.

  Steeling herself with a scowl, she managed a hoarse, “Yes, my lord.”

  He rubbed his chin. “You’re fast.”

  She bowed but did not speak as it was not a question.

  Chuckling, he turned to the rest of the crowd. “Gerald, you know your students better than I. Seems the lass is a glutton.”

  Nope, but if she didn’t give them an outlet for their rage here, where at least the instructors would stop it from going too far, they’d corner her someday to take out their rage that way. Much better to face them head on and take the punishment with a higher chance of survival.

  “Anton. You’re next.”

  Gods, she hated titled fey.