Arthur raised his eyebrow, surprised by the matchup. He glanced at Sarah standing next to him, whose face had fallen slightly.
A battle between the heirs of two elite families—the Academy's equivalent of royal entertainment. But that wasn't what concerned Arthur.
She was good—better than she gave herself credit for—but not Ashencroft good. She was bound to lose, and she wasn't the type to enjoy that.
"Ashencroft, Draketower—centre circle," Vallen commanded, gesturing to the warded combat area.
Ash sauntered forward with the casual confidence of someone born into power. His crimson hair fluttered as he stood his ground.
The two combatants took positions.
"Standard rules," Vallen announced. "Victory by submission or when I call it. Begin!"
Neither moved immediately. They circled each other, Sarah with focus, Ash with nonchalance.
"Don't embarrass yourself, Draketower," Ash called, crimson energy already dancing between his fingers. "You can surrender now if you prefer."
