Not able to sleep from the night’s excursion, Cassandra went down to the training grounds before dawn to work off some of her stress. The training grounds were bathed in the ethereal glow of the rising sun, the sparring dummies casting long, skeletal shadows that danced with the swaying branches of nearby trees. When suddenly a rhythmic clang of a practice sword caught her attention.

  Rosamund, brows furrowed in concentration, moved through a series of intricate sword forms. Her movements were a blur of controlled power, each strike precise and deadly. A wave of admiration, tinged with a familiar pang of envy, washed over Cassandra.

  Sensing her presence, Rosamund lowered her sword, her breath misting in the cool morning air. "Care to join me?" she asked, a playful challenge in her eyes.

  Cassandra hesitated for a moment, her fingers itching to play. Something in Rosamund's gaze ignited a spark of competition within her. "Sure," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of defiance as she grabbed a practice sword. "But don't expect me to go easy on you."

  Rosamund chuckled low and throaty. "Wouldn't dream of it," she purred, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Alone in the arena, they circled each other, their movements mirroring each other's, a silent dance of anticipation and challenge. Cassandra drew her dagger, its blade glinting in the nascent light, her grip firm and resolute. Rosamund raised her blunted sword, its tip pointed towards Cassandra, a silent invitation to the duel.

  With a sudden burst of speed, Rosamund lunged, her sword whistling through the air. Cassandra, her reflexes honed by years of training, reacted instantly, ducking and weaving, narrowly avoiding the blow. She countered with a swift thrust of her sword, aiming for Rosamund's exposed side. Rosamund parried the attack, her sword deflecting Cassandra’s with a sharp clang.

  The clash of steel echoed through the morning air, their movements a blur as they traded blows, each strike met with a skillful counter, each feint with a calculated response. Cassandra, relying on her agility and speed, darted around Rosamund, seeking an opening in her defenses. Rosamund, her strength and precision unmatched, met each attack with unwavering resolve, her sword a whirlwind of deadly intent.

  The intensity of the fight heightened, their breaths mingling in the cool air, their bodies a symphony of movement and countermovement. Cassandra, sensing an opportunity, feigned a lunge to the left, drawing Rosamund's attention. Then, with a swift twist of her wrist, she changed direction, her sword finding its mark, grazing Rosamund's arm.

  Rosamund gasped, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. Cassandra pressed her advantage, her dagger a blur of motion as she attacked, forcing Rosamund to retreat. But Rosamund was not easily defeated. With a powerful thrust, she disarmed Cassandra, sending her sword skittering across the stone floor.

  Cassandra stumbled back, her heart pounding. She was unarmed, vulnerable. But surrender was not an option. She lunged, her hands reaching for Rosamund's sword arm, attempting to disarm her. Rosamund, caught off guard by Cassandra's unexpected attack, struggled to maintain her grip on the sword.

  They grappled, their bodies intertwined, their strengths and weaknesses tested in a fierce dance of wills. Cassandra, smaller and more agile, used her leverage to twist Rosamund's arm, forcing her to release the sword. The blade clattered to the ground, and Cassandra, with a triumphant grin, pinned Rosamund to the ground, her knee pressed against her chest.

  Rosamund, her breath coming in ragged gasps, met Cassandra's gaze, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. "Not bad," she conceded, her voice laced with respect. "For a Thief."

  Cassandra laughed, the tension of the fight melting away, replaced by a surge of camaraderie. "You're not so bad yourself," she retorted, offering Rosamund a hand up. "For an Assassin."

  They stood side-by-side, their bodies still buzzing with adrenaline, their breaths mingling in the cool air. Cassandra felt a flush of triumph, a sense of accomplishment that warmed her from the inside out.

  "Perhaps a different opponent might prove more effective," a smooth voice cut through the air, laced with amusement.

  Cassandra and Rosamund turned in unison, their eyes widening in surprise as Samuel materialized from the shadows, leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

  "What are you doing here?" Cassandra blurted out, her voice sharper than intended. "Stalking me now? Lurking in the shadows like a mischievous sprite?"

  Rosamund looked at her in surprise, elbowing her in the ribs. Cassandra, however, ignored her, her gaze fixed on Samuel.

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  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He pointed to his Shadow Legion insignia as if that explained everything.

  "Can I help you with something?" Cassandra pressed, her voice a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

  "Perhaps," Samuel replied, his smile widening. "I could help you." He gestured towards the sparring pair with a tilt of his head. "Your stance is too rigid." He said, matter-of-factly.

  Rosamund glanced between the two, unsure of the banter playing out between the two of them as Cassandra glowered.

  "Excuse me?" Cassandra challenged, her voice sharp.

  Samuel chuckled again, the sound echoing across the training grounds. He stepped forward, his movements fluid and graceful, his gaze sweeping over Cassandra with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "Your movements lack fluidity. You fight like a cornered badger, all teeth and no grace," he observed, his voice a gentle murmur.

  Cassandra bristled at the critique, but a part of her acknowledged the truth in his words. She was relying too much on her elven agility and brute force to cover what she lacked in skill.

  "And you can do better?" she demanded, her voice laced with a challenge.

  Samuel's smile widened at some inside joke as he drew a practice sword from the rack, the smooth blade glinting warmly in the morning light. “Care to try me?” he purred, the challenge hanging in the air between them.

  Their swords clashed, a sharp crack echoing through the training grounds. Cassandra parried Samuel's thrust, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She lunged, her blade aimed at his shoulder, but he deflected it with a flick of his wrist, their wooden swords meeting in a flurry of strikes and counter-strikes.

  The rhythmic dance of combat quickened, their movements a blur as they circled each other. Every brush of his skin or clash of their bodies heightened her focus and sent thrills course through her veins. This was more than just training; it was a dance, a dangerous game of seduction played out with blades instead of words.

  Samuel lunged again, his attack swift and unexpected. Cassandra twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the blow, her triumphant laughter echoing across the training grounds as she countered with a playful jab of her own. He parried her attack, their swords locking, their gazes meeting in a silent intensity.

  "You're improving, shadow dancer," Samuel murmured, his voice a husky whisper that made her pulse skip a beat. "But you're still too predictable."

  Cassandra met his gaze, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "Don't underestimate me," she retorted, her voice laced with a playful challenge. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

  With a sudden burst of speed, she disengaged, her sword a blur of motion as she attacked, forcing Samuel to retreat. He parried her blows, his movements fluid and graceful, but she sensed a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He hadn't expected her to be so aggressive, so confident.

  Their swords clashed again, the force of the impact sending vibrations through her arms. A warmth spread through her, a heady mix of adrenaline and something else she couldn't quite name. She was acutely aware of Samuel, his scent, the heat radiating from his body, the intensity of his gaze.

  Sensing her shift in focus, Samuel chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent goosebumps erupting across her skin. "Focus, shadow dancer," he murmured, his voice a teasing whisper. "Or I might just disarm you."

  Cassandra met his gaze, a playful challenge sparking in her eyes. Her boldness fueled by his attention. "I'm not as easily disarmed as you might think," she retorted, her voice laced with confidence.

  Their sparring intensified, their movements a blur, their swords a whirlwind of wood and steel. Cassandra, emboldened by his attention, pushed her limits, her elven agility and strength a formidable combination. She spun, ducked, and weaved, her body a symphony of motion, her sword an extension of her will.

  Samuel, impressed by her tenacity, matched her intensity, their bodies moving in a synchronized dance of attack and defense, their breaths mingling in the close confines of the training grounds. The air crackled with tension, a palpable energy that thrummed between them.

  With a swift maneuver, Samuel disarmed her, his sword sending hers skittering across the floor. Before Cassandra could react, he closed the distance between them, his body pressing against hers, pinning her against the wall. His eyes, dark and intense, locked with hers.

  Cassandra's senses exploded. She felt the warmth of his body against hers, the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts, the strength in his arms as he held her captive. A thrill of fear, exhilarating and unfamiliar, coursed through her veins.

  "You learn quickly," Samuel murmured, his voice a husky whisper against her ear, sending pleasure shooting down her spine. "But there are other lessons to be learned, shadow dancer."

  He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her earlobe, sending a wave of heat through her body. "Lessons," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr, "that I would be happy to teach you."

  His hand moved from her arm to her waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against each other, leaving no room for doubt, no space for denial.

  A throat cleared nearby, shattering the intimate bubble they had created. Cassandra's eyes flew open, and she suddenly became aware of the small crowd that had gathered, their faces a mixture of amusement and surprise. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the spectacle they had made.

  Samuel quickly stepped back, breaking the embrace. A wave of embarrassment washed over Cassandra, but before it could consume her, Rosamund appeared at her side.

  "That was the single hottest thing I have ever seen," Rosamund whispered, her eyes wide with admiration.

  Cassandra burst into laughter, the tension evaporating as she found the humor in the situation. "It really was," she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief.

  "Okay class," Samuel called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Today we are going to pair off into twos and practice our sparring. You can thank Ms. Cassandra later for her demonstration."

  Cassandra's jaw dropped. "Wait, what—" she sputtered, turning to Rosamund. "Is he our instructor?"

  "Yeah," Rosamund looked at her, confused. "I thought you knew him. Certainly sounded like you had met before."

  Cassandra nodded, mortified once more. "But he didn't say."

  Oh, he would pay for this.