The next day, I watched as wood crumpled between my fingertips and fell to the floor, joining an ever growing pile of ash. I growled at the pile, frustration mounting. I’d been doing this all day, struggling to even keep the stupid piece of wood in one piece. I fell to the floor, exhausted, sweat dripping down the back of my neck. My chest heaved as I gasped for air.

Across the gym, I could see Castor practicing with his sword, looking completely unaffected. Not a drop of sweat. Not only did I have to see him everywhere, he also had to do everything better than me. I would have sighed, if I had the breath to do so.

“You seem tired.”

I shrieked and turned to see Leander, looking as startled as I felt.

“Apparently not that tired,” he said.

“Christ, don’t scare me like that,” I said, a hand on my chest.

“Detail work not going so well?” he asked, his chin in his palm.

“Not at all,” I grumbled.

“Let’s take your mind off it. Have you started weapon work?” he asked. 

I shook my head.

“Then I think it’s time for you to get a weapon,” he said. He held out a hand and pulled me to my feet. We went to the weapons wall, where every weapon imaginable waited for us.

“Hmmm, have you ever used any sort of weapon before?” Leander asked, running his hand over the dual daggers in front of us. They were glorious.

“Never,” I told him.

“You do sports in school?” he asked.

“Track,” I admitted.

“You any good?” Leander asked, a slight smirk in his words.

“I was the best,” I said, slightly affronted.

“Prove it,” he said, gesturing to the gym. 

Fine.

“Better get your timer ready,” I told him as I queued up.

“What, worried I’ll miscount?” Leander laughed.

“Worried you’ll blink and miss it,” I said. Leander took out his phone and on his mark (“Re….rea…rea—” “Stop fooling around!”), I took off around the gym. As I ran past Castor, I noticed he was doing some sort of sword form, a perfectly choreographed series of movements. Like a dance with the sword. He caught sight of me and immediately seemed to tense up. I almost rolled my eyes at him, but decided I could be the bigger woman this time.

I came back to Leander, skidding to a stop. I bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath again. Leander circled me.

“You’re fast. Nimble. Certainly athletic—but you haven’t done anything requiring hand-eye coordination. So let’s start with,” Leander reached out and picked a staff off the wall—“the staff.”

“What about the daggers?” I asked, pointing at the ones he had been looking at. 

He pressed the staff into my hands.“Let’s start with something easy, shall we?” 

Leander had me drag over a training dummy—the same slightly singed one from the earlier lesson. He taught me how to block first, and because I picked that up, we moved onto strikes and more. He didn’t tell me he was impressed, but I noticed Leander had a certain smile that I liked to believe meant you’ve blown me out of the water.

After a bit, he picked up a staff as well. We circled each other. He had the same smile as always on his face. 

I, on the other hand, was serious about this. I dove forward, striking at his head. He blocked me and kicked me in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs and pushing me back.

“That’s not fair,” I wheezed.

“Who said anything about fair?” he said with a shrug. 

I steeled myself and charged back in at Leander—who blocked my strike, twisted, and knocked me completely off my feet. I fell onto my back.

Leander stepped into my view of the ceiling.

“You know the nice thing about staffs is that you don’t have to fight close up, right?” he asked me.

“I know,” I said, slightly petulant. It was a good reminder, though. I couldn’t keep charging in this way. I had to find another solution. 

I took my place again. I waited. We circled each other and I waited for Leander to strike. He got that smile again—the one where I know I’ve done something right. And then he attacked. I blocked and tried to copy his kick maneuver. But Leander caught my foot—and threw me onto the ground.

“Good,” Leander said.

“Good? You just tossed me like a sack of potatoes,” I said.

“You have to watch your kicks—but good,” he told me. 

I fell back on the floor, panting.

“Castor!” Leander called out. 

Oh no. I leaned up on my elbows, as Castor made his way over to us.

“He is the most talented of your generation,” Leander murmured to me, clearly amused at my disgruntled expression. 

“Yes?” Castor asked in his monotone voice as he stopped next to us. 

Leander passed him his staff. “Spar with Aris,” Leander said. 

Castor’s gaze flicked from me to Leander.

“For me. Please,” Leander said, though his please didn’t sound like a request, and I wasn’t certain if it was directed at me or Castor. 

Castor nodded, then turned to me, and my heart stopped. For a moment, all I could see was the two of us back in the alley. I snapped out of it and gripped my staff to me a little tighter. Why was Leander making me do this?!

I stepped into position and Castor mirrored me. Then, as though unleashing the fury he’d been holding in since our first meeting, he went on the attack. I blocked his first parry, and then his second. But his next attack connected and I bit back a groan as his staff slammed into my ribs.

I jumped back a pace. I needed to be smart about this. I needed to be like Leander. 

I circled Castor and he kept his cold eyes on me. When he came in for another attack, I was ready. I blocked his strike, twisted like Leander had done, and swept Castor completely off his feet. His back hit the ground hard with a thud.

As I stared down at the boy who had tried to take my life, I realized I really was an Astal (well, sort of). I was strong. And for the first time since I’d stepped into the Society, I thought maybe I really could do this.