Lovely Demons

Part 12

Clang.

"You're doing it wrong," Gemma calls from the sidelines.

"She's right," Lucian says, arms crossed. "You're doing it wrong."

Sweat trickles down your spine as you plant your foot and tug your practice sword free of the dummy. Made with blunted edges, training swords ensure you don't kill anyone during practice. Most of the time, anyways

"Why don't you enlighten me?" you call as you turn. "How should I be attacking this sack of potatoes?"

Gemma shrugs and rolls her neck.

Currently, she's slouched against the wooden rails of the courtyard you practice in. Dressed in her leathers, she hasn't so much as touched the real sword at her waist but even without it, you know she could kick the crap out of you.

You only sparred once, but your bruises haven't forgotten. Especially without magic, you're no match for Spartoi. Managing to remove your practice sword from the dummy, you wipe your forehead and sigh.

Thanks to time and magic, your arm has nearly returned to full strength. There's still the odd twinge of pain, but your recovery has been remarkable. Only a week and you're here in the training ring, almost as good as new.

Trudging to the railing, you lean on it with your elbows. "Does it ever get tiring?" you wonder aloud.

Gemma doesn't move. "Does what ever get tiring?"

"Carrying around that giant ego?"

Jaw dropping, Gemma turns as Lucian hoots with laughter.

"She got you," he snorts.

"Oh, please." You turn on him. "Like you're any better."

Recovering herself, Gemma huffs. "We can't help it that fighting you isn't fair, witchling," she says. "We're supernaturally gifted in war. It's not a fair battle."

"Fairness is overrated," Lucian grumbles.

Gemma's lips twitch. "He's just bitter because, even after selling his soul, he wasn't able to stop his Queendom from being conquered by Genus."

"A Queendom?" you ask, surprised. "I thought all mortal lands were Kingdoms."

"They are now." Lucian scowls. "Many years ago, it wasn't the case."

Considering this, you straighten from the rail. Having caught your breath, you're ready to try the move again. You're not sure at what point Lucian and Gemma joined you for training, but it's been several days now. Apparently, you've leaned too much on your magic for years.

Spartoi don't fight with magic, and so Lucian has been teaching you some maneuvers. Part of you wonders why they're bothering. Maybe they want to know your fighting style in case you turn against them. Or maybe they're just bored and in need of entertainment.

Whatever the reason, they've succeeded in taking your mind off the High Prince, so you consider that a win.

"Try it again. And this time, hold your sword looser." Lucian demonstrates. "It'll be easier to move, and you'll respond faster."

You frown, swinging the blade through the air. "Like this?"

A familiar hand catches your wrist on the downstroke.

"No. Here," Jimin says, gently correcting your grip.

Startled, you glance over your shoulder and are thrown by his proximity. Jimin's hand lingers, gaze fixated on your sword hand. He's close enough for you to feel the heat from his torso.