After several months, Ciaran began to hold his own. At least, he thought he was - he couldn’t tell if Brenna was going easy on him or if he really was just that good. On random nights he would creep through the woods, get a fire going with a hand gesture and a thought, and then Brenna would appear, sword at the ready. Sometimes she ambushed him; sometimes she bowed to him; sometimes she made him kneel and breathe and listen to the rhythm of his own heart.
The day he finally made her surrender - sword to her throat - was unforgettable.
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