Adrian gasped for breath as he hit the ground hard. Medea's unexpected attack had hit him in the chet and knocked the air out of him, sending him skidding across the dew-soaked grass.
His vision swam as he struggled to sit up. "What the hell was that for?" he coughed, glaring at Medea, who was already walking toward him, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever.
"Your enemies will never play nice," she said matter-of-factly in a cold voice. "You can't afford to drop your guard, even for a second. Know that."
She knelt down and collected her sword with composure, its dark blade giving a soft glow in the morning light. With a flick of her wrist, she sheathed it, then turned to face Adrian with a raised eyebrow.
"Now," she said with a slight smirk, "where were we?"
