the bite of steel at his neck was not new to ihov'a, though the woman wielding it certainly was. he'd lost track of the hours they'd spent sparring on the cliffs, iri's clumsy swordsmanship earning her facefuls of dirt and grass again and again until she grasped the rhythm of combat. the magic would come later, he'd decided that morning, after she learned how to handle her weapon without making a fool of herself. he did not bother fighting fair as they sparred, taunting and teaching in equal measure; her enemies would not spare her kindness, and neither would he. the fire in her eyes each time she rose again was a curiosity, a flame he reveled in stoking higher and higher to see when the inferno would finally burst forth.
it was his mistake: a half-step back to dodge the thrust of her rapier, the jagged rock beneath his boot unaccounted for. he windmilled for a breath before she struck, sprawling them both in the dust. perched atop him, triumphant, a hand fisted into his collar and her rapier sharp against his skin; her fangs bared as she panted, eyes ablaze. for a dazed moment, ihov'a found her beautiful.
warmth dripped slow and thick from where the blade dug into his flesh, repaying the various bloodied scrapes and gashes he'd gifted her as they fought, and a devilish grin stole across his lips. "oh, so this kitty has claws, hm?"
