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Roc had the advantage of experience against this style, but his missing arm proved a debilitating handicap. In one regard, it made dodging easier, as he had less mass to move out of the way of Ingram’s attacks, and he couldn’t be slowed down with painful flesh wounds to the missing limb, but it also left his offense and defense on his right side almost nonexistent. Depending on who he was fighting and what type of combatant they were, the severity of such a handicap was variable, but against such a similar warrior, his disadvantage was increasingly evident with each passing second. Back and forth, over and over, they hurled attacks at each other and then pulled back, using their wings to move in and out of each other’s reach.

“Once again, that half-pint bastard is a thorn in my side. Years spent tiptoeing around him, trying to keep my plans hidden. Soon, we’ll deal with him. As for Veres, I have plans for him. He’s going to pay for what his bitch daughter did. Her little tantrum against marrying Galvin was an annoying setback, but she and that little brothel will pay. To think that the monster that killed Leonard was a whore from the Knight’s Sheath! Saved me all the trouble of doing it myself and framing the Profane! Fate smiles upon me! Cyrilo and Noah ruined my life, and I swear, I’ll get my vengeance on them if it’s the last thing I do! It’s only a matter of proper timing.”

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.