The Celestial Banquet, Part Eight

Diana stood between Grace and Isolde, her golden sword locked against Isolde's black-red blade. The weapons sparked where they touched, sending little flashes of light across the balcony.

"Friend of yours?" Diana asked Grace without looking back.

"I-I'm literally new here! What do you even mean!?" Grace wheezed, clutching her still-healing chest wound.

Isolde snarled and jumped back, swinging her blade in a wide arc. Diana blocked it again, but Grace noticed something weird—Diana's hands were shaking. The powerful, confident warrior who terrorized Grace on a daily basis during training was shaking?

"Diana of the Bravery Sisters," Isolde sneered. "It might be better to just hand her over." 

They circled each other slowly. Diana kept herself positioned in front of Grace, who was trying to stand up straight despite feeling like her insides had been scrambled.

"You okay back there, rookie?" Diana called, not taking her eyes off Isolde.