Clarke recovered her sword and stepped back several times without taking her eyes off Gaelira. The annoyance she had shown before the fight disappeared, replaced by absolute concentration.
She separated the segments of her weapon again with a movement of her wrist, and the blade dropped onto the sand like a metal serpent. Gaelira kept her sword in front of her body while trying to get used to the weight. She had deflected the first attack by instinct, but repeating it would be harder now that Clarke knew she was not facing a beginner.
"Where did you learn that defense?" Clarke asked.
"I'll tell you if you manage to get through it."
Clarke's green eyes narrowed. "I won't need to ask twice."
She moved faster than before. The segmented sword attacked from the right, but changed direction when Gaelira raised her weapon to block it. The flexible tip curved around the straight blade and headed toward her arm.
Gaelira had to pivot on one foot to avoid the strike, feeling the air move beside her sleeve. Clarke pulled the weapon back and extended it again before she could counterattack.
The blade moved in a way Gaelira had never faced before. Each segment followed the previous one, allowing Clarke to attack from angles impossible for a normal sword. Blocking directly was dangerous because the tip could curve around her defense. Gaelira began stepping back, deflecting the middle section of the weapon instead of trying to stop the tip.
"She's running away," Palmwick commented from the rack.
"No," Meredith corrected. "She's measuring the distance."
Gaelira heard the observation, but did not let it distract her. Clarke needed space to extend the serpent sword. When Gaelira moved closer, the girl shortened the blade and used it like a conventional weapon. When she moved away, Clarke released the segments to chase her. Switching between both styles required extraordinary precision, but it also revealed a small pause during each transition.
'There's the opening.'
She waited for the next attack and moved forward instead of back. The tip passed beside her shoulder as Gaelira entered Clarke's range. She swung toward her side, but the white-haired girl closed the segments in time and blocked. Their swords collided, leaving them face to face for an instant.
"That was close," Gaelira said.
"Not as close as you think."
Clarke pushed hard and forced Gaelira backward. Her arms endured the first impact, although pain began spreading from her wrists to her shoulders. She tried to recover her stance and discovered that she was breathing faster than expected.
Her new body's speed was superior, but it lacked the endurance built through years of training.
Clarke noticed. A small smile appeared on her face before she attacked again. This time, she did not try to surprise Gaelira with the weapon's flexibility, but instead forced her to block a succession of direct strikes.
Gaelira deflected the first few, but each impact made her arms feel heavier. The fourth strike pushed her sword downward, and the fifth almost knocked it from her hands.
"Your technique is good," Clarke admitted while maintaining the pressure. "But your body can't keep up with it." Visit g.com for the full chapter.
"I'm discovering that."
Gaelira turned the hilt and allowed the enemy blade to slide to one side. She tried to counterattack, but her foot sank too deeply into the sand and she lost her balance.
Clarke struck the flat of her sword and managed to knock one of Gaelira's hands away from the grip.
Octavia stood from the stands. "Gaelira!"
The warning came when the segmented sword was already heading toward her side. Gaelira let herself drop and rolled across the sand. The tip passed over her before striking the ground. She recovered the sword with both hands and moved away while Clarke pulled her weapon back.
"You can surrender," Clarke said. Her breathing had also quickened, although she tried to hide it. "You've already proven more than I expected."
"That didn't sound like an insult."
"Don't turn it into one."
Gaelira looked at her own arms. Continuing to block meant losing from exhaustion. She could not fight the way she had in her previous life or depend on strength this body did not yet possess.
She would have to use her lower weight, the speed of her legs, and Clarke's confidence that she had already discovered her limit.
She adopted a lower stance and relaxed her shoulders. Clarke interpreted the change as another defensive position and separated the segments of her sword.
She began spinning it around her body, building speed for a wider attack. Meredith watched without interfering, confirming that it was still within the rules.
"I'll finish this," Clarke declared.
"You've been trying to do that since we started."
The comment achieved exactly what Gaelira expected. Clarke attacked before completing another rotation. The serpent sword moved toward her in a curve, prepared to wrap around any block. Gaelira waited until the last moment, stepped diagonally, and struck one of the segments near the hilt.
She did not try to stop the weapon.
She changed its direction.
The momentum pulled Clarke's arm to the side. Gaelira abandoned her own sword, grabbed her opponent's wrist, and used the movement to throw her off balance. Clarke tried to recover her stance, but Gaelira placed one leg behind hers and both fell onto the sand.
Gaelira ended up on top of her, pinning her wrist against the ground. She recovered the fallen sword and brought the blunt tip close to Clarke's neck. Their faces were only a few centimeters apart. Clarke's white hair had become messy and her green eyes remained completely open.
Clarke's cheeks began to turn red. "Are you planning to stay there all day?"
Gaelira then realized the position they had ended up in and quickly stood. She offered a hand, but Clarke ignored it and got up on her own, brushing the sand from her uniform.
"Evaluation over," Meredith announced. "That position would have been fatal with real weapons. Gaelira Veyr is the winner."
"She didn't need to win," Clarke protested reluctantly as she picked up her sword.
"But she did," Palmwick commented cheerfully.
Clarke shot an angry look toward the hand. Gaelira hid a smile while Octavia descended from the stands and stopped beside her.
The redhead examined her arms and the dust on her clothes before making sure she was not injured.
"Did you learn how to do that overnight too?" Octavia asked.
"I told you my memories were coming back."
Meredith approached with the folder under one arm. "You demonstrated discipline, adaptability, and skill beyond what was recorded in your application. You will keep your place at Crownspire."
Gaelira felt the tension that had built since the ceremony finally leave her shoulders. Palmwick walked over to her, sniffed her hand from a safe distance, and shook his entire body.
"Still tastes different. I can't choose."
"Then I will," Meredith declared. "The resilience you've shown and your refusal to give up fit Thornheart. You will be assigned there as an exception."
Octavia tried to keep a neutral expression, but Gaelira noticed her relief. Before she could comment on it, Clarke stepped between them. Her cheeks were still slightly red and she avoided looking directly at Gaelira.
"I want a rematch."
"I thought this was a waste of time."
Clarke tightened her grip on the sword and looked away. "I don't care about you, Veyr. I just need to defeat you to prove that today was an accident."
Gaelira smiled when she realized that, despite her words, her new rival was already thinking about the next time they would meet.