Under Jacob’s watchful eye, Cove instructed me to meet him in what had become our usual training room. Unable to refuse, I agreed, keeping up the careful pretense Cove and I had constructed of ignoring our argument in front of others. I wasn’t sure it worked. Jacob didn’t say anything directly, but his not-so-subtle suggestion of training and his knowing glances made me suspect he hadn’t been fooled at all.
As we walked down the hallway, the atmosphere was tense enough to swim through. Cove was still avoiding my looks, and the raincloud that had hung over my head since last night grew larger and louder as my frustration, irritation, and the pesky emotion called ‘guilt’ grew. Once my feet had crossed the threshold, Cove turned and slammed the door viciously shut behind us, the sound resonating against the magic-proof walls.
He flinched and yanked his hand from the door as though it had burned him. The room turned heavy and humid, saturated with Cove’s magic. Using the job shift ability we’d learned in Zenith Online, Cove shifted out of his casual-formal attire and into jet-black sweatpants and an icy blue shirt instantaneously, his eyes sparking with anger as he rounded on me.
Expecting our heated discussion from last night to continue, I was surprised by his following words. “Let’s spar.”
I also shifted clothes and met him in the center of the room. “Rules?”
“No magic. We gain a point when we knock the other to the ground. First to 10 wins.”
Without magic, I at least stood some semblance of a chance. I nodded my agreement, swallowing down my nerves as we stepped back until we were six or seven feet apart. We bowed, then slid into a defensive stance, staring each other in the eye and waiting for the moment to strike.
Cove moved first. His feet rapidly slammed twice against the ground as he lunged forward, aiming a first at my face. With my pointer finger and thumb in a “u” shape, I scooped my hand upward, catching his wrist and yanking his up and behind my shoulder, sliding my front foot further forward to provide leverage. Rather than resist, Cove followed the motion, twisting his wrist flush against mine and grabbing me back. Smoothly, he danced on his feet and ducked beneath my arm, twisting it behind my back and holding my shoulder with his free hand. I let go, but the damage was done. Stuck in his grip, I had no choice but to surrender.
Cove rolled his shoulders as we broke apart, a slight grin filled with razors forming on his face. “I needed a break.”
My elbow and shoulder ached at his words. Another couple of inches up, and both would have snapped as easily as a twig.
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He wasn’t even out of breath.
“Ready for another round?”
I sucked in another breath, dropping back into a defensive stance in response. His grin widened, and it was almost as though Zenith Online hadn’t happened at all.
Cove closed the distance between us, sending a vicious roundhouse kick up at where my head used to be with a shout.
Almost was the keyword there.
I struck at his shin with the side of my back foot. Cove jerked his leg back, but I followed through with my motion, shifting my center of gravity until the kick turned into a step that allowed me to move in closer. He blocked my second kick with his arm, staying firmly planted as he whirled his other hand behind his head, sending a harsh hammer strike down at my shoulder.
His knuckles brushed against the edge of my shirt as I angled back just far enough to dodge, my foot landing far off to the side as I regained my balance. With a smirk, Cove whipped his still-open hand back, the bone where his pinky met his hand firm and angled for my arm as he turned his block into a slice.
It landed hard against my arm. I winced, feeling the blood vessels burst and the bruise forming beneath the skin. The hand that had dropped down like a hammer grabbed my wrist, and the next thing I knew, I was landing shoulder-first on the floor. The room spun as I rolled, popping straight back up on my feet.
“Nice catch! You still hit the ground. Your loss,” Cove’s grin wasn’t entirely proud, but it had lost some of the viciousness it had earlier.
I felt a matching grin grow on my face, the adrenaline and, somewhat disturbingly, the ability to punch at the source of my problems, washing them away like water on a rainy day. Suddenly, I could see the reasoning behind the appeal of what my father had called ‘fighting it out.’ When Cove and I had held the bitterness and irritation in, it had built up until it had exploded. Friendly sparring, like this allowed us to strike at each other without serious harm, letting off a little bit of that steam before we exploded once more.
Suddenly, the apology I hadn’t even allowed myself to admit I needed to give sprang to my lips. It came out easily, leaving me breathless and free. “I shouldn’t have spoken as I did,” I admitted.
Cove sighed, wiping his hands on his pants. “We’ve been interfering too much, but…you weren’t wrong either.” It was close enough to an apology and matched my feelings.
I motioned Cove to begin again, and we fell into a rhythm of blows and steps, closing in for an attack before pulling away. The ever-analytical part of my brain was studying, noting how he never waited longer than three seconds between attacks and that he tended to use his left limbs for feints, among other strengths and weaknesses. Each match, I lasted just a little bit longer.
At some point, I knew Cove would have to decide what actions he was taking out of fear and what actions he was taking because they were right.
Aren’t you the same way?
I shoved the thought to the dark recesses from whence it came and continued on.