Cold Burn of Magic by Jennifer Estep

you worry about that—”
    He charged at me, trying to take me by surprise, and the battle was on.
    Devon was a far superior fighter to Felix. Stronger, smarter, more careful with his blows, and always thinking about his next move.
    But I was still better.
    I knew it instinctively, the same way I knew I should always pay the lochness toll. I knew it because my mom had trained me to be the best, and I’d spent the last four years honing my skills on the streets. I knew it because I was just like her deep down inside, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise.
    We broke apart after a quick exchange and circled each other, going around and around on the mats.
    I narrowed my eyes. “You’re almost fast enough to have a speed Talent.”
    Devon grinned, the effect far more charming than I would have thought possible, given how much I hated him. “Almost,” he agreed. “But sadly, I don’t have any speed magic. But if you’re ready to give up, just say so. I’ll let you lose with a little bit of dignity.”
    â€œNever—”
    He raised his sword and came at me again, but I blocked his blows by following the steps, moves, and positions I’d memorized long ago. Then it was his turn to counter every move I made. Then my turn again. In a weird way, it was almost like we were dancing.
    But this was way more fun.
    Devon grinned again, enjoying this as much as I was. That hot spark I’d sensed in him before burned much brighter now, warming his eyes and softening the sharp edges of the guilt and grief that weighed down his heart. It was almost as if he found a certain freedom in the fight, or at least a distraction from the worrisome emotions that constantly ate at him.
    He might be enjoying the fight, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him win. I was never that nice.
    Determination blazed through me to beat him, and I had no qualms about using my magic to help me do it. So I studied Devon, using my sight to bring everything about him into supersharp focus, from the honey highlights in his dark brown hair to the flecks of black in his green eyes to the small quirk of his lips. But most of all, I focused on his hands and feet, watching how he adjusted his grip on his sword and rocked forward onto his toes.
    He attacked just the way I thought he would, so I wrapped both hands around the hilt of my sword and put everything I had into parrying his blow and striking back with another, harder one of my own. Devon’s sword spun out of his hand. Before he could recover, I had the point of my blade pressed up against his heart.
    â€œWhat did you say about losing with dignity?” I mocked.
    He tipped his head, accepting the loss with far more grace than I expected. Certainly more grace than I would have.
    Devon backed away from my sword. I let him, even though part of me wanted to surge forward and stab him, just so he would feel the same sort of pain I did whenever I looked at him. But he didn’t deserve that—or my hate. Not really.
    Devon stepped off the mat, leaving me alone.
    â€œAnything else?” I mocked, staring over at our audience. “Or can I leave now?”
    Instead of answering me, Claudia looked at Mo. “I’m satisfied. She’ll do.”
    â€œI’ll do for what?”
    She turned her cold gaze back to me. “Why, to be my son’s new bodyguard, of course.”
    Â 
    Me? Be Devon’s bodyguard? Protect one of the most important members of a Family? Of the Sinclair Family?
    I was so stunned I simply stood there, holding the borrowed sword and wondering how it had ever come to this. Then the reality of the situation slapped me across the face, and I whipped my angry glare over to Mo.
    He shrugged. So this was the deal he’d made, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity he’d been crowing about. Of course, it was once in a lifetime. Because I wouldn’t survive for long if I agreed to this nonsense.