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11 -- Mud wrestling

  Elias smiled and took a step back toward her.

  “Of course, my lady. How could I forget?” He bowed mockingly. “Shall we pick up our swords?”

  “No,” Sasha said, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I can take you here and now, with my bare hands. Bury you in the dirt.”

  She didn’t wait for him to react. Instead, she lunged, aiming for his ankle to take him down by pure force. Sasha wasn’t weak, and Elias was an easy catch—too arrogant to expect her attack. Within moments, his brown leather trousers were covered in dust, and his white linen shirt was far from white. She twisted his arm behind his back, forcing his chin into the dirt.

  “Didn’t see that one coming,” Elias muttered.

  “Too fast for you?” she whispered, using her entire body like a bow to keep him pinned. She had bested opponents stronger and bigger than her before. What she lacked in raw strength, she made up for in speed and technique.

  “Good,” Elias admitted. “But not good enough.”

  He twisted beneath her, wrestling his arm free. Sasha knew he would fight back, but she wasn’t planning to lose. She had grown up fighting dirty, and today, she would make Isaak proud.

  She struck with precision, pressing two fingers to his temple while simultaneously sweeping his legs. A second later, Elias was on the ground, groaning.

  “One… two… three,” she counted.

  “Four,” Elias said, flipping them over in a blur of movement. His strength was unnatural—inhuman. “One,” he grinned down at her. “No cheap tricks. Let’s play fair, shall we?”

  Sasha scoffed and rolled out of his grasp.

  “Afraid I’ll give you a black eye?”

  “No,” Elias said. “But yours hasn’t healed since my mother’s ‘lesson.’ Let’s just wrestle. I’ll keep you occupied until you burn off some of that steam.”

  Sasha growled. Enough playing nice. She charged forward like a bear, ramming her head into his stomach while grabbing his legs. With a powerful twist, she knocked his feet from under him and sent him sprawling.

  “Don’t play nice with me, kitten,” she hissed, teeth bared.

  Elias didn’t answer. He simply fought.

  Finally.

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  He was skilled, a worthy opponent, well-matched to Isaak. She relished the challenge, the back-and-forth rhythm of their struggle. Sweat trickled down her spine. Her muscles burned, weakened from her last battle with the queen. She needed to end this before she lost her advantage.

  Sasha maneuvered, rolling him over and pinning his arm and leg at just the right angle. She pressed her weight down, locking him in place.

  “Stop!”

  “One,” she counted.

  “Stop, I give up! Just let me go, it fucking hurts.”

  “Two,” she continued, tightening her hold. “You’ll endure until five, or you’ll pass out.”

  “Please, Sasha. Have mercy.”

  “Three. Four. Five.” She released him, pushing off and rolling away.

  Elias groaned and sat up, stretching out his limbs, then gave her a thoughtful look.

  “It’s the first time I’ve lost since I was a kid,” he admitted. “Care to show me how you did it?”

  “Not now,” Sasha said, smirking. “Maybe one day.”

  Not that she planned to. Trusting Elias was not on her to-do list.

  “I suppose I owe you a favor,” Elias said. “I didn’t see that coming. What do you want?”

  Sasha reached out a hand, helping him up.

  “Let me think on it,” she replied.

  “I’m not giving you the orb,” he warned.

  “I play fair,” she said sweetly. “No need to be afraid, kitten.”

  “I don’t purr.”

  Sasha just laughed. The thought of Elias purring was hilarious.

  Elias escorted her back to the room she shared with Ivy.

  “I need to freshen up before dinner. I’d suggest you do the same,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her ruined outfit. Her black trousers were covered in dirt, her tank top was more brown than black, and several new holes had appeared. “Borrow something from Ivy. We’ll need to find you clothes that actually fit.”

  Sasha was about to retort when Ivy pulled her into the room and slammed the door in Elias’s face.

  “Talk,” Ivy demanded.

  Sasha sighed. “I want my magic back, but Elias is making me solve some ridiculous puzzle first.”

  “And the mud wrestling?” Ivy asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “The mud wrestling?” Sasha smirked. “A nice bonus, I suppose. By the way… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about returning stolen magic to a dead witch, would you?”

  “A dead witch?”

  “The queen forced stolen magic into me. Elias says I won’t be able to use my own magic again until I get rid of it.”

  Ivy frowned and took Sasha’s hands in hers. She closed her eyes, humming softly, brows furrowing in concentration.

  “I don’t know,” she said at last. “It feels… strange. Like magic that’s been abandoned too long.” She opened her eyes. “Let me think on it.”

  “So no easy fix?” Sasha muttered.

  “Gaining your magic back—rebuilding your levels—it won’t be easy, sister. I’ve heard of it before, but it takes serious effort.”

  “We need to go back to Mother.”

  “That would be the smart move,” Ivy agreed. “But the graveyard is here, isn’t it?”

  Sasha blinked. Then she chuckled, shaking her head. “You never cease to amaze me. What else did you see?”

  “Not much,” Ivy admitted. “Just a feeling. But we need that graveyard.”

  “Well, let’s get dressed for dinner, then,” Sasha said, peeling off her filthy clothes.

  “Yes,” Ivy agreed. Then she hesitated, placing a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “One warning, though.”

  Sasha arched an eyebrow. “A warning?”

  “Yes. Keep your mouth far away from Elias. The queen has decided to marry me off to him.”

  “You and Elias?” Sasha burst out laughing.

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell Isaak, will you?”

  Over Sasha’s dead body.

  

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