The sound of wood cracking against wood echoed through the courtyard.

Natalin gritted her teeth, drawing back to a ready position, and struck again. The tip of her staff jabbed out, slamming against the dummy yet again.

She could feel them on her - the eyes of the seers as well as the common folk working nearby. Watching her. Judging her. Logically, she knew it was just her sore ego getting the better of her. It wasn’t like anyone would be watching her, when they could be ogling the temple’s visitor.

A fresh pang of irritation shot through her at the thought. She pushed the bitterness away, channeling it into her next blow. Her muscles ached with the repetition of it. It had still been dark when she’d slipped out of the temple, ducking around corners with her face bright red at the thought of being caught. Now, though, the sun shone brightly down from overhead.

She was supposed to meet Mostyn in just a few hours for her normal lessons. If this had been a normal day, anyway. But no. They were here, and so Mostyn was busy. Everyone was busy, catering to their guests. She should be too, she knew. But there was still time, a bit of freedom left to her before she’d be expected to act like the Tideborn.

And so Natalin relished the burn of her muscles, the ease with which she slipped deeper into her routine. Each blow came quicker than the one before, a seamless flurry of jabs and sweeps that she’d rehearsed a thousand times.

“Wondered what all the noise was.”

Natalin flinched, twitching at the voice that rang out from behind her. Letting her staff fall to her side, she twisted just far enough to see-

To see the grey-haired teenager leaning against the low fence surrounding her yard, a smirk he couldn’t quite hide tugging at his lips. Two of his friends lingered behind him, openly grinning at her. She blinked, recognizing the more welcoming Antiel from the night before.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said, feeling the polite, proper words slide out on automatic. It wasn’t what she was thinking, but she knew better than to say that.

“You didn’t, really. We were up anyway. Right?” Takio said, turning to his friends. His smirk wasn’t hiding, anymore.

Antiel chuckled softly. “Don’t let him bother you, Tideborn. He doesn’t keep normal, sane, human hours.”

“Rude,” Takio said with a dramatic sigh, half-turning away again. And then his eyes fixed back on her. She jumped. “Still...Where’s the rest of your weapon, girl?”

Natalin blinked slowly, ignoring the fresh irritation that welled up at being called ‘girl’, as though he was so much older than her. “Pardon me?” she said instead, folding her hands together over the fabric-wrapped grip. With her fingers interlaced, he probably wouldn’t be able to see how her knuckles stood out white against her skin.

Takio gestured in her direction. His eyes were fixed on her staff. “That stick you’ve got there. Where’s the metal? The spine?” He shook his head slowly, letting his gaze drift up to her face. “Not exactly a convincing tool, is it?”

What? Her mind spun, even as she felt a heat spread from her ears to her cheeks. What business was it of his what weapon she chose as her own? “It’s traditional,” she said, fixing her gaze on the open air over his shoulder like Gerd had taught her. Couldn’t have the Tideborn lashing out in anger, after all. “I’m here to protect, first and foremost, and all that.”

Takio made a face, scrunching his nose up. “I...suppose. And what’s going to happen when you come up against an axe? Just a nice little piece of firewood, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just a piece of wood.”

“It looks like one to me.”

Natalin glared at him, fighting desperately to keep herself under control. “Well, Charred, I suppose...I suppose we’ll just have to disagree. Now, I think the diviners had arranged for you to take a tour of Aramoor and-”

“I saw the city already.”

Natalin stopped, the words dying on her lips. Takio leaned against the railing around the yard, smirking at her - and from the knowing look in his eyes, he knew all too well that she’d only brought up the tour as an excuse to get him away from her.

He was the Charred, she told herself. Her partner, her closest ally. Efren had told her so, and Gerd had repeated it over and over again. There was no reason to be antagonistic to the young man. Surely she’d just gotten off on the wrong foot. It wasn’t like she should hold one bad first impression against him forever. That would be childish.

And yet, he’d interrupted her at her practice, only so that he could insult her. After he spent the whole godsdamned party leering at her and blabbering away in a foreign language to his peers. He certainly didn’t seem to be all that interested in maintaining the good relationship between their nations.

“Oh?” she said, keeping a vacant, polite smile on her lips. “And what did you think?”

“Boring.”

Her eyes widened fractionally. Beside Takio, Antiel sniffed, glancing away. If he had any thoughts about his Charred’s rudeness, he didn’t give them voice. The other Narai just laughed. Natalin forced the smile back into place, clutching her staff in both hands. “I’m quite sorry to hear that. Perhaps you’d like to see the-”

“It’s just a mess of fish and boats,” Takio said, holding a hand up helplessly. “We’ve got fishermen in Naraan.”

“Not nearly as many,” Antiel said, cutting in finally.

Takio wrinkled his nose. “Well. No. But it smells.”

Natalin fought to keep her face carefully neutral. “How unfortunate. Well, then, if you return to the Sanctuary, I’m sure the diviners will-”

“Doesn’t it get boring, hitting straw and wood?”

Again, Natalin skidded to a verbal stop, nearly tripping over her own tongue. Takio was still staring at her, and this time, the look was positively feral. His fingers danced at his side - playing over the hilt of the sword buckled at his waist.

His lips curled up in a tiny, knowing grin as he saw her staring at it.

She tore her eyes off it, scowling at him. “It’s training. I’m sure you’re familiar.”

“Yes, of course. But it’s usually better to train against things that hit back, isn’t it?”

“Your party’s arrival has taken my normal training partner away from me,” she snapped. Too late, she saw the grin spread across his face, and realized the trap he’d laid for her.

He was over the railing in a second, vaulting the wooden bars neatly and landing in a rush of red fabric and dark leather. Her eyes followed the gleam of metal as he unbuckled the sword belt from around his hips. The leather sheath hanging from it was darker even than the rest of his gear, nearly black in the morning light. Silvered inlays coated its surface, unmistakably marking the weapon as something special.

The Narai were good weaponsmiths. The thought presented itself to her, appearing from the half-remembered lessons that littered her thoughts. Their mountain range was filled with mines, deep caverns under the earth that produced the best metals the continent had to offer. Narai steel was something no one else could match - not verdant Drenwell, and not her own seaside Ondria. Whatever sword Takio was carrying, as the Charred, would no doubt be the finest the skilled smiths could produce.

“Oh, I do so regret it if our visit has caused you any trouble,” Takio said, resting the blade against the wall. His orange eyes flitted about the yard, finally settling on the rack of practice weapons that stood at the back of the yard. “It saddens me to think that I might be standing in the way of your training.”

Natalin’s back stiffened, her hands wrapped around the wooden pole of her staff. Her pulse thundered in her ears like a drum. It was nothing, she told herself. There was nothing there, no offense to be taken. His words were just the polite, concerned niceties she’d have expected from any other dignitary.

The mocking derision in his eyes was a different matter entirely - but that didn’t mean she could respond to it.

“By no means,” she hissed, fighting to keep her tone level and pleasant. “It’s our pleasure to have you here. My lord has been looking forward to seeing your mistress and you.”

“Yeah, Shiina said the old bastard would be over the moon. Whatever makes her happy, I suppose.”

Natalin’s fingers tightened further, pale spots lighting up on her olive skin. It wasn’t right. The thought screamed in the back of her mind, protesting every word the other Ascended had said. Efren was a god - the Waterbinder, the Everdeep. Even if the Charred wanted to flaunt his disrespect at her, she was just another human at the end of the day. But deriding her god was a different matter.

Even still, his eyes had softened a little as he spoke. The words had been harsh, but there was less spite behind them than the polite, cultured phrases he’d recited only a few moments before. Natalin paused, searching his face for any sort of clue as to what was going through his mind.

But his expression stayed as impassive as before, his skin littered with tiny, silvery scars. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer - and then he turned, crossing to the weapons rack.

Natalin shook her head, blinking away the momentary confusion. “I still think you should head back to the temple. I’m sure Gerd- I mean, the diviner, is-”

Her words died, silenced on her lips as a wooden blade snapped around. The tip of it hung inches in front of her face, steady and unmoving. Her eyes focused in on it instinctively. It took all of her will to keep from leaping back, distancing herself from what every fiber of her body screamed was surely a threat.

“I’m bored,” was all Takio said. He watched her, his expression carefully neutral. “Would you mind?”

Natalin eyed him for a long, quiet moment, warring with the conflicting emotions that struggled for control. First and foremost was the irritation - frustration at his behavior, at the way he waltzed in as though he owned the whole godsdamned city and pushed her to the side without a thought. The fear was second, although she was loath to admit it. He was talented. It was clear in the easy way he carried himself, the way he seemed more off-balance without his sword’s familiar weight on his hip. Respecting that skill was good, she told herself. Healthy.

Under it all, though, pangs of curiosity ran deep. He talked a big game, that much was true, and he was the Charred. That meant something. But she was the Tideborn, and that meant something, too. Her pulse quickened, beating hard and fast in her ears at the thought of putting herself to the test.

“Are you comfortable with that?” she said, falling back on the familiar, polite words to cover over her surprise. “There are many options. If you need to take a moment, I can-”

“It’s fine.” Takio’s shoulders relaxed. He took a swing, hefting the weapon in his palm, and shrugged. “It’ll do, anyway.” Bringing it out to the side, he locked eyes with her.

Natalin ground her teeth. Even if he didn’t say anything, she recognized an implicit command when she saw it. He wanted her to attack - which put him in the position of ‘teacher’ for this mock duel. He was older, she repeated to herself. That was fair. It was reasonable.

Sliding her hands into place around her staff with practiced ease, Natalin lunged.