IRIS
“Again.”
I don’t even get a second to breathe before Grandfather lunges.
I swing.
He ducks.
I spin.
He sidesteps, hands behind his back like this is a walk in the freaking park.
“Faster, Iris!” he barks, circling me like a wolf sizing up prey. “Your enemy won’t wait for your legs to recover. Move!”
I grit my teeth and rush him again, fists flying. One jab, two jabs and a sweep of my leg.
He jumps it effortlessly and barely a grunt leaves him.
“What the helly?” I mutter, already panting.
He’s seventy. Seventy-something. I’ve seen trees older than this man, how is he moving like this?
“You’re thinking too much,” he calls out, spinning behind me before I even register that he moved. “Less brain, more instinct.”
I whirl and swipe at him again. He catches my wrist mid-air. “Te
