The answer came from Seraphine.
"Two thousand three hundred and forty-five."
A flicker of something close to shock crossed Ira's face before she could fully contain it. She'd been keeping a rough track during the fighting, but the chaos of two hours of unrestricted combat made precise counting difficult. Hearing Seraphine's number land that specifically made her stomach drop slightly.
Had she really lost?
She needed to beat that number by a margin of at least ten to win the bet. That had been the agreed condition. She ran her own count through her memory one more time, cross-checking it against the rate she'd been moving and the positions she'd covered.
Seraphine caught the change in her expression immediately — the slight widening of the eyes, the fractional pause before composure reasserted itself. She leaned into it.
"How many did you get?" she asked, the question coming out with just enough eagerness to suggest she already suspected something interesting.
