CHAPTER 257: YOU FIGHT DIFFERENTLY

Serena wiped the sweat off her brow and the back of her hand. She took in a deep breath and straightened her spine, on the other side of the circle was Charlotte who seemed to be at her breaking point. The only time she had seen this was when she had a confrontation with Livia in her room, to which she still could not understand the relationship.

"We could take a rest-"

"No," Charlotte interrupted quickly. She held up the sword in her left hand and lunged at Serena.

The blonde woman side stepped her and then kicked behind Charlotte knees, leaving her in a lying heap. Serena looked down and her and shook her head, putting her sword in her sheath. Charlotte on the other hand looked straight at the cloudless sky, she blinked slowly and exhaled.

"I am not taking a rest," she said finally.

"You have taken a beating," Serena began. They had been sparring for gods know how long, both of them were sweaty and dirty but Charlotte remained unrelenting. "We could always continue."

"Why do you handle yourself so..." Charlotte jammed her mouth shut and sat up. She turned her head to the other side and spat out. "Again, last one and we will be done."

Serena hesitated, her hand brushing the hilt of her sword again though her body screamed for rest. Sweat dripped from the tips of her hair, damp strands sticking to her cheek. "Charlotte," she said softly, almost as though gentleness might dissolve the tension in the air. "This is needless. You will drive yourself to exhaustion."

Charlotte turned her head then, pale eyes glinting beneath the bright sun. "You look as though you can still stand."

Serena blinked at her, incredulous. "Yes, but barely."

"Then you can fight." Charlotte stood with an effort that seemed almost careless, as though pain were nothing to her. She rolled her shoulders, picked up her sword, and gestured to the centre of the circle. "On your feet, Serena. Last round."

The formality in her voice was unnerving, and after a moment Serena pulled her sword free once more, setting her jaw. She did not miss the way Charlotte’s lips curved faintly at the gesture.

Their clothing clung to their skin from the long bout, both dressed in their sparring tunics of quilted linen reinforced with thin leather panels, meant to take the worst of shallow cuts. Serena’s sleeves were rolled to her elbows, and her pale trousers were streaked with dirt from when she had been knocked to her knees earlier. Charlotte, for her part, looked as composed as she had at the start of the match despite the sweat darkening her collar.

Serena shifted her stance, suddenly aware of how uneven her breathing had become. There was something different in Charlotte’s posture now, something more fine tuned. The air between them felt charged.

The first strike came quick as a whip. Serena barely raised her blade in time, the clang ringing sharp in her ears. Charlotte pressed forward, her sword darting in quick, aggressive arcs that left Serena scrambling backward to keep her guard up.

She is not holding back now, Serena realized with a chill. She had thought she was being tested earlier, but this...this was different.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. It had been years since she had truly fought like this, not merely drilling or deflecting half-hearted blows in sparring matches, but fighting. Her father’s voice echoed dimly in her head, the memory of his patient instruction: Keep your stance low, do not let them see you falter.

Charlotte’s blade kissed the air near her shoulder and Serena turned sharply, countering with a swing of her own. Sparks leapt where the steel met, and Charlotte’s expression sharpened, almost pleased.

"Better," Charlotte said through her teeth, before pressing forward again.

Serena’s arms burned with the effort of keeping pace. Her muscles screamed protest, her breath coming ragged now, but she could not give Charlotte the satisfaction of seeing her break. She tried to remember the lessons drilled into her by her father in the days before she chose the healer’s path.

But then Charlotte’s blade slipped through her guard and the edge grazed across Serena’s thigh. The pain was hot and sharp, and she cried out despite herself.

Charlotte stepped back, just for a heartbeat, as though waiting to see what she would do next.

Serena’s vision tunneled, adrenaline flooding her system. Her breath came quicker, sharper. She tightened her grip on the sword and lunged, her strikes turning faster, more desperate, each blow forcing Charlotte back a pace.

Their blades clashed again and again until Serena found her rhythm, the old movements falling back into place as though they had merely lain dormant all these years. She pivoted low, swept her blade under Charlotte’s guard, and with a forceful twist knocked the other woman’s legs out from under her.

Charlotte went down hard, the dust puffing up around her as Serena kicked her sword out of reach. Her chest heaved, sweat running down her temple.

Charlotte lay flat on her back, staring up at the sky for a long moment. Then she laughed.

It startled Serena, who stepped back warily.

"Well done," Charlotte said at last, sitting up slowly. Her brown hair clung damp to her brow, her expression unreadable save for the faint curve of her lips. "I have never stumbled upon a rogue quite like you."

Serena blinked, lowering her sword slightly.

Charlotte tilted her head, eyes narrowing with a curious light. "No rogue that has fallen beneath my hand has ever fought like you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and cutting in their own way. Serena’s pulse pounded in her ears as the implication sank in. Charlotte had killed rogues before.

Serena said nothing, her fingers tightening on the hilt of her sword until her knuckles whitened.

Charlotte pushed herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her trousers. "You fight... differently," she said again, her tone softer now, almost thoughtful.

Serena swallowed hard and sheathed her blade, her thigh throbbing beneath the leather padding. "That is the last round," she said, her voice cool though her chest was still rising and falling with exertion.

Charlotte only smiled faintly, as though she had learned something worth far more than a sparring victory.