"We don't have to do this now, you know? I'm fine with doing it in a few hours or even tomorrow before class."
"It's fine. I'm not tired yet, anyway."
"...If you say so."
Rejecting Celestina's offer, the two stood in the center of the sparring room, wooden swords in hand.
Azriel was no longer bare-chested. He wore a plain black t-shirt now, the bandages on his left arm still visible.
Amaya watched from the sidelines, worry etched on her face. Iryndra, in stark contrast, was perched on her ice throne, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Azriel regarded Celestina, suppressing a complicated expression. His face was unreadable, but his thoughts were anything but calm.
'I did promise her back at the Christmas banquet that I'd duel her when we were in the academy...'
The problem was, he hadn't expected it to be under these conditions. If she won, he'd have to join her faction.
But...
Was this really what she wanted?