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Chloé inched along the ledge, keeping one hand on the hilt of her sword. Marinette and Kagami, usually the biggest threat, were already out of the running. Their taste for attacking their competitors as a pair until they were the last two standing had often served them well in these tactical exercises, but today Chloé had teamed up with Sabrina and rigged a concealed net trap wide enough to ensnare them both. It would only work once, but one win was all Chloé needed.
The winner of this exercise would sit beside Prince Adrien at the high table during the Midsummer feast. She would catch his eye, sweep him off his feet, and set herself up on the road to queendom.
Sabrina had been easy enough to defeat once their trap was sprung, and now there were only two knights-in-training left standing. If she could maintain the element of surprise…
A twig snapped somewhere close by. Chloé whirled around to look, nearly losing her balance. It wasn’t easy to maintain her perch while wearing metal boots and armor. She held her arms straight out, wobbling furiously.
Someone laughed. “I see you’re just as unsubtle as ever, Lady Bourgeois,” Lila drawled.
Chloé grimaced. Her least favorite fellow trainee knight was also her most dangerous opponent. Marinette and Kagami were driven but soft-hearted, and Sabrina was a pushover. Lila was all malice. She knew what she wanted, and she seemed hell-bent on taking him away from Chloé.
“I see you’re just as… invisible as ever,” Chloé fired back. Try as she might, Lila was impossible to spot. She craned her neck, determined to locate her enemy’s hiding place.
“Boo,” said Lila from directly behind her, delivering a sharp kick to Chloé’s ankle at the weak spot between her boots and leg armor. There was no way for Chloé to save herself.
The fall felt simultaneously instantaneous and infinite. Chloé’s stomach lurched. Wind whooshed past her face and blew the strands of hair that had escaped from her braid into her mouth. Then, after an immediate eternity, white-burning pain erupted in her side and she was on the ground.
Chloé lay still, taking inventory of her body the way Master Fu had taught them. No broken bones, but she would be sore for days. It was lucky she hadn’t managed to climb any higher.
“That unchivalrous wench,” Chloé spat.
“You called?” Lila purred, dropping lightly to the ground beside her. Despite her armor, her landing barely made a sound. “This was an easier victory than I expected, darling.” She knelt beside Chloé, smiling. “I hate to see you hurt, but I love to see you cry.”
Chloé hadn’t noticed that her cheeks were wet. She gritted her teeth as Lila reached out to wipe her face clean. The gesture was almost tender, but Lila was a master of infuriating contradiction in that way. Chloé despised her all the more for it.
“This isn’t a victory,” Chloé managed. Maybe something was broken. The pain in her side wasn’t dying away. “I still have my sword.” She touched the hilt again, just to be sure. Let Lila try to take it.
Lila laughed. “Of course it’s a victory, Lady Bourgeois.”
As always, she used Chloé’s title like a filleting knife, cutting her open and exposing her worst insecurities. When Lila called Chloé a lady, she was calling her weak, the product of nepotism. Unfit for the knighthood she was struggling to earn.
Hot tears burned in the corners of Chloé’s eyes. Everything burned. It was as if her body had become a pillar of flame.
“You’re going to need my help just to get back to the castle,” said Lila. “Can you even stand?”
“Perhaps not,” said Chloé, making a show of contrition. She waited until Lila’s attention seemed to waver, then drew her sword and used it to lever herself upright. “But then again, perhaps I can.”
The white fire of pain surrounded her. Spots danced in her vision. But Lila looked truly afraid.
Chloé steadied herself, raised her sword, and pressed its tip to Lila’s chest. “Drop your weapon,” she said, doing her best to keep the agony out of her voice. Something warm dripped down her cheek. Chloé rather suspected it was blood.
“Never,” said Lila, but she no longer sounded certain. “You can’t fight.”
“And you can’t take me one-on-one without any tricks,” said Chloé. “Drop it, Lila. You failed.” Her right ankle took up a deep, pulsating ache. The analytical part of Chloé’s brain told her it wasn’t painful enough to be a sprain. She decided to ignore it.
Lila’s dark eyes flashed. “I don’t fail,” she said. “I just adapt. Come here, Lady Bourgeois.” There was something new in the way she said Chloé’s name, something softer.
In spite of herself, Chloé stepped forward.
Then Lila’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing Chloé back against the wall, and Lila was kissing her. Chloé tasted blood and dirt. Part of her wanted to stay there forever, pain and all, kissing this viper. Instead, she opened her eyes.
Lila’s sword was in its sheath. She had taken her hands off it to hold Chloé. If she timed it right…
Lila did something with her tongue that made Chloé moan. Her neck twinged, and her ankle radiated agony. She kept kissing Lila.
Then, when she judged the moment was right, Chloé pulled Lila in even closer, pinned her right arm, and dove for her sword. Lila snatched at Chloé’s sword at the same time. They broke apart, panting.
“You’re a surprisingly competent kisser, Chloé,” said Lila in an almost gentle voice.
Chloé’s eyes widened. Had Lila ever used her first name before? Her mouth was still flooded with the taste of blood and dirt, and she wanted more. She held up her hands. “Okay. Take my sword. Feast with the prince. And afterwards… do that again.”
Lila’s smile seemed almost real. “I shall,” she said, leaning in to pull Chloé’s sword free. “Now, let’s return to the castle, Lady Bourgeois. You can lean on me.”