Luke raised his hand and touched his cheek. His fingertips came away red, and though the wound was already knitting shut, his lips drew into a tight line. His eyes narrowed, his tail swishing as he raised his sword, pointing it at the inquisitor.
"You're still planning to fight? You're good enough you should have been able to see the difference between us from that exchange." The inquisitor's lip quirked in a taunting smile. "Perhaps I misjudged your skill."
I balled my hands into fists, clenching my skirt. But Luke didn't rise to the bait. His eyes remained focused on the inquisitor as they slowly circled each other, neither making the first move.
Fable growled deep in his throat, gathering on his haunches, but I rested my hand on his shoulder. "Quiet," I whispered. "Save your strength. We'll need it for what comes ahead."
His growl faded, and his ears slicked back, leaving only his swishing tail to show his agitation.
