Halo (Blood and Fire Series (A Young Adult Dystopian Series)) by Frankie Rose

feet. I angle my back leg so that it’s turned at a forty five degree angle to my body ― a good, solid position to ground me. It only takes a slight lunge and I’m right up close. I keep my back foot planted and kick swiftly upwards with my front leg, feeling the energy twist from the floor through my body, travelling out when I make contact with the heel of his palm. His arm flies back and he lets go of his stiletto, which arcs upwards into the air before pivoting gracefully and falling point down. The knife strikes vertically and buries itself an inch in the dirt between us. Closer to me than him. I bend at the waist, never taking my eyes off him, and I snatch it up, sliding it into one of the free loops on my belt.
    “I take it this is how things work out here, Ryka? You lost something. I found it. That makes it mine, right?”
    Ryka’s face is very different to how it was a minute ago. His liquid brown eyes are wide and round, and his smile seems to have vanished altogether. He must have thought I would start slashing wildly just because I had sharpened steel in my hand. But why dirty my equipment when my feet are just as good a weapon as anything else?
    “You’d better give me back that knife,” he tells me.
    I curl my lips in a way that I think mirrors his smug smile from before. It feels good, and I can almost understand why he was doing it. “I don’t think so.”
    A muscle jumps at Ryka’s jaw, and he runs his hand back through the bright blond hair that’s fallen loose from his ponytail. When he sweeps it out of his face, I catch a glimpse of the markings on his forearm again, a stack of evenly spaced black lines disappearing up underneath his shirtsleeve.
    “Don’t get cocky,” he says. “Just because you surprised me doesn’t mean you’re a knife fighter. Now give it back.”
    “Give me back the holostick.”
    Ryka shoves his thumbs through the loops on his knife belt. I guess everyone that wears one everywhere in the world must do it. “No.”
    I shrug my shoulders. “Well, you’re not likely to get this pretty piece of silver back then, are you?” I trace my thumb over the warm hilt of the knife, watching Ryka flinch as I do.
    His shoulders tense, and even though his eyes are locked on mine I know what’s coming. When he leaps forward, a double-edged dagger of his own suddenly in his hands, I have already dodged to the side. There’s a cold fury to the way he snakes after me, like he’s angry I was prepared for him. He strikes out with his dagger and I duck low, hearing the metal whistle through the air. I drop and roll backwards, righting myself into a crouch. I balance with a hand lightly resting on the dirt and the other one held out, point first. A warning. Baring my teeth. If he comes any closer, I’ll strike.
    Ryka blows out a frustrated breath and steps an inch closer, daring me. I explode up from the ground, but clearly not how he expects me to.   I lean my body weight on my right side, my strong side, making him think that’s where I’ll be moving. A small glimmer of a smile flashes over his face when he jumps to the left, thinking he’s outsmarted me. But that’s where I meet him. My body slams into his and we fall backwards, landing on Ryka’s bag and the satchel.
    His boots kick up clouds of acrid dust from the charred remains of the fire. He shoves me roughly with his free hand, pushing me away. I can tell he’s not using all his strength with me, though. That’s a mistake. He’s quick, sure, but I’m quick, too. If he considered me a real threat even for a second, he would be using his strength against me. In the arena it would be the only thing between winning and dying a brutal death. His lack of conviction that I’m half the fighter I say I am makes me see red, and I decide to teach him a lesson. I whip my body around while he’s still scrabbling to get up, and I hook my legs around his neck.
    Before he can react, or slip out of the hold, or even blink , I