Heda walked out into the courtyard outside the Polis tower. The nightbloods practiced there, matched in one on one combat with wooden swords. Lexa wandered to the edge of the space where they carried out their exercises, observing with her hands clasped behind her back.
Her eyes found Aden and she watched as he met his partner’s every move with ruthless procision, blocking every attack, striking at his opponent’s weaknesses. They were a well matched pair, but Aden was better. His opponent ducked, spinning around to dodge the swing of Aden’s sword. But as the other child took a step to try to come up behind Aden, he swung his foot out, taking the child’s legs out from underneath him. Aden’s opponent landed flat on his back. The breath clearly knocked out of him. Aden stepped forward to stand over him, his wooden sword pointed at the boy’s throat, and a smile of triumph on his face.
“Aden,” Lexa called, and the boy’s eyes snapped to her, his grin widening as he realized his precious Heda had observed his victory. Just then, the other child grabbed Aden’s sword, jerking it out of his graps and tossing it away. With his other arm he wrapped around Aden’s knees, buckling them and laying him out on the cobblestone. The other boy climbed over him and put his forearm against Aden’s throat. Lexa stepped forward, clapping in slow appreciation. “Never take your eyes off your opponent in battle, Aden. It is a sure way to lose.”
