"Come on, Elias," Thane taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "I thought the great Nightshade bloodline wasn't so weak. How disappointing."
Avery's grip tightened on his own practice sword, though his arms felt heavier with every passing second. He wasn't a warrior, and his memory of combat was distant at best. But he'd learned quickly—adaptation was the key to survival.
"Enough talk," Avery said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. He stepped forward, raising his sword, but Thane's laugh rang out, louder than the clash of their blades.
"Talk?" Thane mocked. "I'm just trying to give you a chance, Elias. After all, you're not exactly impressive with that weak excuse for a swing." He sidestepped Avery's first strike with ease, the blade barely grazing the air. "Honestly, if I were Armand, I'd be embarrassed. You can't even land a blow on your little brother."
Avery clenched his jaw. His movements were stiff, unsure, and Thane was exploiting every weakness. Thane didn't see him as a threat. He saw him as nothing more than an obstacle to push aside.
Thane's sword came down, fast and hard, aiming for Avery's shoulder. Avery barely managed to raise his sword in time to block it, the force of the impact rattling through his arms.
"You've got nothing," Thane said, his grin widening as he circled Avery, looking for an opening. "Nothing but a name and a history that means nothing now. Just face it, Elias—you're a failure."
The taunts burned in Avery's chest, but he refused to show it. Every insult Thane threw at him was a reminder of the power the boy held over him. But Avery wasn't blind to Thane's arrogance. He could use that—he had to.
Thane lunged again, overconfident, the strike wild and careless. Avery shifted his weight and stepped aside, letting Thane's sword swing past him. With a quick twist of his wrist, Avery jabbed the flat of his blade against Thane's side, landing a solid hit.
Thane stumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected blow. Avery didn't waste the opportunity. He moved quickly, pushing Thane off balance with a firm shove. The younger boy's foot caught on the ground, and he staggered backward, almost falling to the floor.
Thane's expression shifted from smug arrogance to frustration as he regained his footing. "You—"
Before he could finish, Avery stepped forward, swinging his sword once more, but this time, with precision and intent. Thane blocked it, but the momentum carried him backward, his stance faltering.
Thane's eyes flashed with fury as he charged at Avery, his movements desperate and aggressive. "You think you can beat me, Elias? You're nothing but a joke!"
But his rage made him sloppy. Avery saw it in his eyes—he was overextending, trying too hard to dominate the fight. Thane's anger blinded him to his own vulnerability, and Avery used it to his advantage.
Thane's next attack was reckless, a wild swing aimed directly at Avery's head. Avery ducked just in time, his sword slashing low and catching Thane's unprotected side.
Thane hissed in pain, his hand flying to his ribs, but the real damage was to his pride. The smirk that had once been plastered on his face was gone, replaced by a scowl.
Avery stood tall, breathing heavily, his sword at the ready. Thane backed away, his chest heaving with anger, but he said nothing. He couldn't. Avery had outsmarted him, and he knew it.
For a long moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick and palpable. Then, from the sidelines, a voice broke through the silence—smooth, cold, and calculating.
"Charming. But I think we've all seen enough of Thane's temper tantrum."
Arabelle stepped forward, her eyes flicking from Avery to Thane, her lips curling into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was dressed in fine clothes, as usual, but her presence in the training hall was just as commanding as ever.
Thane clenched his jaw, glaring at her. "Shut up, Arabelle. You're not even—"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" she interrupted, her voice sweet, too sweet. "I was just enjoying watching you embarrass yourself." Her gaze turned to Avery, her expression turning thoughtful. "Though, I must admit, Elias, that was a bit more impressive than I expected. Perhaps you're not completely useless after all."
Avery felt a chill run down his spine, the weight of her words sinking in. There was something in her tone—an undercurrent of something more dangerous than just sibling rivalry. Arabelle was testing him. She wasn't just watching the fight; she was calculating. Trying to see where his loyalties lay, or perhaps, where his weaknesses were.
"I suggest, Thane," she continued, her gaze shifting back to him, "that next time you control your temper. It's hard to win when you let your anger cloud your judgment. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from your brother."
Thane's face flushed with anger, but he didn't respond. Instead, he stormed off, muttering under his breath. Arabelle didn't even glance in his direction as she turned back to Avery, her smile widening.
"Well done, Elias," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Though I still can't help but wonder how long you can keep up this charade."
Avery's stomach twisted, but he kept his expression neutral. He didn't know what game Arabelle was playing, but he knew one thing for sure—she wasn't on his side.
"Thank you, Arabelle," Avery said evenly, careful to mask any emotion. "I'm sure Thane will be… more careful next time."
Arabelle's smile was sharp, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I'm sure he will," she replied smoothly. "But don't think this means you've won anything, Elias. Not yet."
As she turned and walked away, Avery stood there, watching her retreating form. The fight with Thane had been a small victory, but Arabelle's words echoed in his mind, leaving him with an uneasy feeling.
He had made an enemy of Thane. But Arabelle? He wasn't so sure who the real threat was.