Tessa

The dirt stings my palms as I roll, springing back to my feet before Mala can capitalize on the opening.

Good. She’s learning.

My wolf hums with approval inside my chest. Again, she urges. Push her. She’s stronger than she knows.

Mala doesn’t wait for instructions. She comes at me fast—too fast for someone her age if you ask most commanders—but she’s Thorne’s sister, and stubborn runs in their blood. Her stance is solid, feet grounded, chin tucked. She feints left, trying to draw my guard, then snaps a kick toward my knee.

I pivot, catching her ankle and using her momentum to twist her down. She hits the...