The punch wasn't a flash of light or a wave of power. It was a solid, clean hit, knuckles to jaw, that sounded like a rock splitting. Lionhead's head snapped to the side. He didn't stumble. He just slowly turned it back, a thin line of blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked at Rebecca, then licked the blood away.
"Good," he said. "Anger's a start."
Rebecca didn't answer. She came at him again, a blur of motion. He caught her next punch in his palm, his hand swallowing her fist. He tried to twist, to throw her, but she was already gone, sliding out of his grip and driving her elbow toward his throat. He blocked with his forearm, the impact cracking the marble floor beneath their feet.
"Stop this!" roared Valen's duke.
Neither looked at him.
