Crescent

1

Adjusting her grip on her sword, Vera charged. Dirt swirled around her boots, scraping the soles to create the familiar melodious sound of battle. Her brother, Wyn, adjusted his stance, ready to block her strike. He was firm and unmoving, and confidence dripped from his gray eyes as they followed her. She feigned right and swung left. The blunt wooden blade slammed into his side and he stumbled, wheezing at the impact. A fanged grin split his lips, followed by his soft chuckle as he raised his own training sword to retaliate. In a swift arc, he swung it at her neck.

Vera pivoted and leapt back; the tip of the blade passed a mere breath from her neck, and the whoosh of air as it passed kissed her skin with ice. Her skin prickled with the familiar crackle of power. It spiderwebbed through the air like electricity and her hair stood on end. She lost her footing and her shoulder slammed into the wall of the training area.

"No magic," she chided. "That's unfair."

"A battle is rarely fair." His other hand traced a runic symbol in the air between them, glowing a white-blue for his favored element. In the next instant, an ice spear struck her coattail, pinning her to the wall.

She gasped, shooting a glance at the thick icicle, sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. It was only for a moment, but when she raised her head again, Wyn's sword was against her neck. Shame warmed her face as she glared up at him. His eyes glowed, his tan fingers blue with flecks of magic. It stung worse than his triumphant smile. Scowling, she shoved his sword away and tore herself free. A sizable rip split her coattail; she gritted her teeth and thrust her sword at his chest before storming out of the arena as he fumbled to catch it.

"Oh come on, Ve." His footsteps followed and he quickly appeared at her side, his frigid hands on her arm. "Don't be a poor sport. You never said I couldn't use magic." A hint of his fae mischief glittered in his smug face at the mention of a common mistake. Words were a fae's most powerful weapon, even more so than magic or appearance. He was right in saying it was her fault for forgetting that when arranging the rules for their mock battle.

Fixing him with her sharpest glare, she jerked free and continued toward the gate. It creaked as she swung through it. She slammed it shut before he could get through and spun to face him, holding it closed. The metal was as cold against her bare hands as the ice he wielded against her, only it didn't prick her with the electric zap of magic that slithered beneath her skin—always just out of reach, taunting her with what she could never have.

"It's cruel," she spat. "You know that. It gives you an unfair advantage over me."

He leaned against the bars, his unkempt black hair hanging in his face and accentuating that lazy, handsome look that all the upper class fae girls squealed over. His tan skin was flushed, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was lucky the arena was a secluded place or he would never have been able to find her through the endless sea of his fangirls. Vera bit the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes or revealing too much of her repulsion on her face. He wasn't as attractive as they thought; having spent the greater portion of her life with him, she knew every one of his outrageous flaws. Right now, she was particularly disenchanted.

"What do you think you'll be fighting, Ve? Your chance of meeting another fae—older than a young child—without magic is extremely low, much less engaging one in a fight. You'll always be fighting magic. You have to learn how." He laughed but his gaze sharpened suddenly. "Until you can do that, you'll never amount to anything. Why are you so dead-set on learning to fight anyway?"

His question was almost as piercing as his stare, heavy with an undertone of accusation as if he could read what was on her heart, her true motivation for pushing herself. She felt her throat constrict as her mind fluttered for a response. She couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet, not when he still preached her uselessness to her and the rest of the fae. He would only laugh, as he always did.