Cradling the branch close, she slipped back toward the makeshift camp. Ashra knelt near the low-burning fire, calmly slicing different parts of the fish he’d caught into neat fillets. The hiss of cooking flesh rose on the rain-thick air. She lunged out of the shadows, swinging the branch in a brutal downward arc aimed right at his head. At the very last second, he snapped to life as his dagger flashed up, slicing straight through the wood with a crack. Splinters rained down.

Elle didn’t freeze. She’d learned from their first confrontation that hesitation was lethal. She kicked a spray of sand at him, forcing him to abandon the fish and rise from his crouch. At that moment, she hurled the cut branch, now sharpened by his dagger’s slash, toward his weapon hand. The improvised projectile sank into the flesh with a sickening jolt, piercing his palm.

A pained snarl ripped from his throat, and his dagger clattered to the ground. Yes. A white-hot spark of triumph flared in her chest. She dove forward, placing her hands against specific points on his body. She specifically aimed at the arcane pressure points that disrupted mana flow. Although she wasn’t the best student, this skill caught her attention, gleaning from old texts. It was her first time putting it to practice, but it worked as his energy flickered and winked out like a snuffed candle.

The tall man staggered. His limbs suddenly weighed double. Seizing the advantage, she kicked in his knee and swept his ankles, driving him to the sand. The woman pinned him, straddling his hips. Rain plastered her hair to her cheeks, and her blood drummed in her ears as adrenaline and desperation colored her vision. Her fingers reached for his throat. If she could just knock him unconscious, secure a head start—

But in a savage burst of muscle, Ashra wrested free of the mana lock. With his final surge of strength, his large hand easily held onto her bicep, gripping so tightly Elle could have sworn her bones were being crushed as he flung her off. She flew backward, hitting the ground hard and rolling, tumbling all the way into the shallow pit half-filled with rainwater. Mud sucked at her limbs, and she gasped as brackish liquid splashed her face.

A heartbeat later, a blade appeared at her chest. Elle’s eyes snapped upward. A sword? She had no idea where he’d drawn it from, but it glinted now in the gloom, point pressing just enough to slice her tunic, drawing a thin bead of blood at the center of her chest as darkness dyed the fabric.

Her breath stilled. She stared into those jade-and-gold-flecked eyes thick with anger and pain. For a moment, neither moved, the storm raging around them like a wild beast.

“Do it!” Elle spat, tears of fury and frustration pricking her eyes. “Kill me!”

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Rain pelted them both. Her chest heaving beneath the sword’s tip, his wounded hand laying limping on his side while his other hand trembled ever so slightly on the hilt. Her teeth clenched tightly, her heart roaring in her ears.

The half-dark elf looked down at her. His turbulent jade eyes were dark as a storm of conflict crossed his features. Though his sword hovered just above her heart, no decisive blow fell. She watched, heart pounding in her ears, as frustration tightened his jaw. Then the man wrenched the blade away.

Her heart shattered like glass. Her mind throbbed against the captivity of her skull. The rain contributed to her confusion. Elle was still sprawled in the shallow pit, tasting sand and rainwater on her tongue. Every muscle urged her to defend herself and strike out again, but he merely turned his back on her and walked off, leaving her in the churning downpour.

Muddled with rage warring inside her, her pulse thundered, adrenaline still coursing through her veins from the aborted battle. Her lungs sucked in a fierce breath. The woman pushed up from her knees, splashing out of the water. Rain pounded relentlessly, slicking her hair to her face. She dashed after him, half-skidding on the wet sand.

“Kill me!” the princess demanded, voice raw with anger. Her shoulders heaved with each breath. “Do what you’re supposed to do! You’re the scoundrel, aren’t you? You came onto our lands and stole from us. You took everything! You took our artifact! So, kill me!”

The half-dark elf spun to face her, water flicking from the tips of his black hair. His eyes flecked with gold, widened in exasperation. “If I wanted you dead,” he shouted back, voice cracking with sheer frustration, “I would’ve killed you a long time ago!”

Rain hammered the makeshift camp, the fire sputtering in protest. For an instant, she thought she saw genuine strife flash across his face. His free hand clutched at his slick hair, raking it back as though to drag some sense out of the chaos. His brows pinched together, every sharp line of his features clouded by doubt and anger.

That unexpected vehemence lodged in Elle’s throat. She found herself speechless, raw from the intensity of his words.

If I wanted you dead…

“You…” Elle began, though the words stuck.

The warrior glanced at her, unreadable emotion flickering in those jade eyes. For a moment, it looked as though he might speak further. Explain himself, perhaps. Instead, his gaze dropped, and he gave a short, broken exhale.

“I…” he murmured, half to himself. The rain made it difficult to catch his exact words.

She stood there, water streaming down her cheeks, hair plastered to her neck, every nerve on high alert. Yet he said nothing more. Abruptly, he turned away, the faint outline of tension rippling across his shoulders as he headed toward the weak embers by the fire. His sword dangled in his grip, droplets coursing down the blade’s length.

Left alone in the pouring rain, Elle’s chest tightened.

This was the man who threatened to shatter her ankles, who tied her up yet he wouldn’t kill her. The woman bristled with confusion, emotions at war. Her fists curled at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she watched him stoop to tend the fish with hollow, mechanical motions.

In the end, she just stood there in the deluge, tears and raindrops mingling on her cheeks. Thunder rumbled overhead. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words formed.