Djasha clapped again. Jaghotai rushed Touraine immediately. Jaghotai spun and kicked, and Touraine batted the leg away with her fist. Another kick. This time, Touraine hopped sideways—but couldn’t avoid Jaghotai’s second rotation. Her boot clipped Touraine’s temple, and Touraine dropped, stunned, to her knees.
Touraine expected someone to call foul, but no one did. Somehow, she had a feeling headshots weren’t common in friendly sparring.
Djasha clapped twice and stepped between them. This time, she pointed to Jaghotai.
Touraine blinked the stars from her eyes. Jaghotai’s smile was smug. Luca sat on the edge of the hide chair, arms wrapped tight around herself.
Fine. One more time.
“Are you surprised, daughter?” Jaghotai danced around Touraine on her toes.
There was a collective inhale from every person around the fires. Certainly they couldn’t all be surprised. Her uncle had put the pieces together, and Sa?d, too. Maybe they never expected Jaghotai to acknowledge the traitor child, as good as a bastard—if they even had that concept here.
Touraine was surprised by many things in this scenario, but the Jackal’s fighting skill wasn’t one of them. She still remembered the feel of those boots in her gut.
Also not a surprise: the boot didn’t feel any better against her head.
The pain in Touraine’s torso kept her breaths shallow. She needed to watch out for those sky-falling boots. Balladaire hadn’t prepared her for anything like those kicks. The dizzying swirl and shift from one angle of attack to the next—she had been caught off guard. She wouldn’t be again.
“When I found out a conscript killed my brother, I swore I’d get revenge,” Jaghotai said. Her dancing steps kept her out of reach. “I just didn’t expect I’d be this unlucky.”
Before she finished speaking, she closed the space between them and aimed a kick at Touraine’s gut. Touraine spun away from the kick and landed a solid jab in the other woman’s kidneys before she widened the space between them again.
“If you’re unlucky, I must be sky-falling cursed.” Touraine spat. “A mother like you.”
Touraine kept circling, waiting, waiting for her opening. The other woman held her arms in a loose cage as she swayed to her own mental rhythm, left elbow protecting her body, her right hand up near her face. Jaghotai was slowing, and a beautiful bruise was already swelling on her face from an earlier hit.
Touraine ducked in, teasing Jaghotai into lashing out with her legs again. This time, the kick came and Touraine was ready. She grabbed the leg, spun Jaghotai off balance, and pounced on her. Somehow, with a deft twist of the hips, Jaghotai pinned Touraine under her instead.
Jaghotai laughed in Touraine’s ear. “How long are you going to serve them, Mulāzim?” Her voice was gravelly as Touraine writhed in her grip.
Touraine managed to roll onto her side. The woman’s breath was sour with food and drink. Sweat made their skin slick and hard to hold, but Jaghotai still had a fistful of Touraine’s shirt.
“She doesn’t care about you,” Jaghotai hissed in Touraine’s ear. “They don’t see any of us as people. When she’s sucked you hollow, she’ll throw you away to rot, and find a new tool.”
Past Jaghotai’s shoulder, Touraine saw Luca watching from the edge of the circle, her pale hand covering her mouth. Jaghotai was wrong about one thing, at least. Touraine hoped. Luca had danced with her.
She wanted Jaghotai to be wrong about the rest, too.
“It’s not just Balladaire who doesn’t care,” Touraine choked out. A quick knee to Jaghotai’s crotch gave Touraine just enough space to wrap her legs around the other woman and squeeze her still. “I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for you.”
Jaghotai jerked above her but couldn’t escape. She tried to punch, but Touraine locked her arms, too.
“I was a lonely kid,” Touraine growled, “crying in the dark of some strangers’ ship. Shouldn’t you have protected me?”
There. There was the bitter truth that lay behind every sharp retort. Touraine didn’t care that Jaghotai hadn’t stopped Balladaire from taking her. Her life was better this way. She didn’t care. She didn’t. But if she didn’t, why was she yelling it?
Touraine knew only that the words hit Jaghotai where she wanted them to. The other fighter roared and threw herself free of Touraine’s hold.
Where the words woke something in Jaghotai, though, they broke something in Touraine, siphoning away her anger, her strength. She countered one, two, three of Jaghotai’s strikes only just in time, and as she staggered from the third, the fourth put her on her knees, chest heaving.