Private Interruption

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: A pleasant surprise?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

The Throne Hall felt like a cathedral of silence and calculation. Its obsidian walls, carved into cold, sweeping arches, drank in the low amber light from the suspended candles. This light scattered faintly across the marble floor, looking like embers trapped under glass. Aurelian sat hunched forward at the long ironwood table, sleeves rolled, his fingertips pressed to his temples as if he could press order into existence.

Datapads and holo-sheets littered the table before him like the aftermath of a storm. They were financial ledgers and market reports, all bleeding red with Farstine insignias. Aurelian's jaw was tight; the edge of his smile was long gone.

"They'll regret making a game of this," he murmured to himself, dragging one finger through a ledger's glowing columns. "Everyone forgets who built the harbor they now dock their ships in." The hum of the rain against the distant stone was the only answer. The Rainspire earned its name honestly. Storms never left this coast, clawing at the palace as if trying to erode its defiance, each droplet hissing faintly against the balcony's iron lattice.

When the door opened, he didn't look up immediately. He didn't have to. Tona's footsteps were precise and clipped, carrying practiced servitude and exasperation. "Your nineteen-hundred meeting is in the War Cloister," she said. Her tone was balanced between deference and warning. Aurelian's brow furrowed as he finally looked up from the sea of numbers. "What meeting? I told you to cancel everything. I'm not leaving until I have Farstine's throat in my hand."

Tona's expression hardened, an art form she'd perfected in his service. "You need to." He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "Need?" She folded her arms, the faintest shadow of rebellion glinting in her eyes. "You'll kill yourself at this pace. You need to take the night, step away, and listen for once. Your meeting is waiting in the Cloister. Now."

He exhaled through his nose, an irritated, quiet surrender. "If this is another one of your lessons in diplomacy, Tona, I swear I'll..."

"Then you'll have to swear it on the way," she interrupted coolly. "Move." Aurelian rose, the chair's legs scraping across the marble with a low growl. He fastened the clasp of his dark coat, the sigil of House Veruna gleaming faintly at his collarbone. "Fine," he muttered, his voice rich with reluctant charm. "But this had better be worth missing the pleasure of drowning in ledgers."

The corridor beyond was lit by amber sconces that flickered against the walls of polished stone. The air grew cooler the deeper he went, and the hum of rain became louder. When he stepped into the War Cloister, the shift in atmosphere was immediate.

The courtyard was half-open to the storm, a circular expanse of black marble ringed by carved reliefs. Centuries of Veruna's were frozen mid-charge, their stone faces locked in eternal defiance. Statues stood sentinel between the carvings, all equal in the impartial eternity of granite. The scent of wet stone filled the air, mingled with the faint trace of iron from the rain.

Torches burned along the perimeter, their flames snapping in the fierce wind. Water ran down the grooves of the ancient reliefs, as if the ancestors themselves wept for their house's current state.

In the center of that space, beneath the open sky where the rain met the marble in fine silver needles, stood her. Sibylla.

Her cloak clung to her shoulders, wet from the storm. The faint shimmer of her hair caught the torchlight like threads of gold caught in a storm cloud. She turned as he entered, her expression completely unreadable. The sight of her in the War Cloister, a place reserved only for Verunas and their ghosts, struck him like a blade of cold iron. "What," Aurelian said, his voice low and cautious, "are you doing here?"

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Surprise!
Aurelian Veruna

The air was heavy with rain and memory. Every statue in the War Cloister seemed to breathe judgment, their chiseled gazes cutting through the drizzle to weigh her presence among them. Sibylla stood before the largest of the reliefs -- a Veruna warlord immortalized mid-charge, blade raised high over the broken crest of some House lost to time. Veruna's ancestors, who for centuries held a blood feud against the Abrantes family of Dee'ja Peak. Her House. Her bloodline.

So strange to be here.

So strange to feel nothing but wry amusement.

Her gloved fingertips brushed over the carved edge of the Veruna crest, tracing its lines as though studying the face of an old enemy turned reluctant ally.

"What would you say now," she murmured under her breath, "seeing me here of all places?"

The answer, of course, never came only the echo of rain on marble, the ghostly drip of water trailing down the stone as if the past itself refused to weep for her presence.

At the sound of footsteps, she turned, expecting the softer tread of Tona perhaps. But when the figure that emerged from the shadows bore the unmistakable silhouette of the Veruna heir himself, she couldn't help the faint spark that kindled behind her hazel eyes.

He looked almost out of place here. Too alive, too restless among the ghosts. His posture was cautious, his gaze sharper than usual, and that tension, that slight hesitation was enough to pull an upward twist of her full lips right at the right corner of her mouth.

"I daresay that is an expression I haven't seen on you before," she said in a husky low voice rich with humor that danced just shy of mockery. Her boots clicked softly as she strode toward him, water whispering underfoot.

"Visibly cautious," she went on, smile curling wider. "And here I thought the infamous Prince of Parrlay feared no one. Imagine my surprise that it would be me to give you pause."

She circled him slowly, studying him with deliberate ease -- from the tousled hair that looked as though he'd raked his fingers through far too many times, down to the cloak heavy with Veruna's sigil, to the set of his jaw that betrayed both fatigue and pride.

Shiraya, he has no right to look this handsome, Sibylla mused to herself, affectionately taking in the sharp angles of his features, the stubble over his jaw, and the way there was no denying the soldier's toned frame under all that refinement.

When her gaze rose again, there was mischief glinting in it, defiance and familiarity twined like strands of her hair that fell from her high ponytail over her shoulder.

"Well," she said finally, lips curving as her tone softened into something teasing and intimate, "this won't do. Go on then."

A pause, then a challenge.

"Take your cloak off, Aurelian."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Take it off?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

For a moment, he couldn't find his voice. Sibylla Abrantes, here of all places. She stood in the War Cloister, framed by rain and torchlight. The weariness in his shoulders, the exhaustion from hours spent with ledgers and deception, shifted into something far more dangerous; awareness.

Tona could have warned me.

He was acutely aware of how disheveled he must have looked. His hair was a mess, his collar undone, the shadows under his eyes deeper than they ought to be. This wasn't how he wanted her to see him, especially not when she was all poise and poetry, wrapped in beauty with a quiet audacity. Yet, despite the embarrassment that pricked at his composure, a warmth stirred within him. It was a welcome surprise, perhaps too welcome. Of all the faces he could have encountered tonight, hers was the only one that could calm the storm in his thoughts.

A weary but genuine smile curved his lips. "You always give me pause, Sibylla," he said, his voice low and roughened by the long day. "You have a way of stilling my heart when I least expect it." The words carried a quiet amusement, a flirtation worn thin by fatigue but still sincere. As she moved around him, he followed her with tired fascination. She was studying him, like a chess piece she intended to move at her leisure. He let her, unwilling to break the spell she seemed to be weaving.

Then came her words, light, teasing, and commanding. "Take your cloak off, Aurelian." For a second, he thought he'd misheard. His brow lifted slightly, his jaw tightening instinctively before his mind began to race. Take off his cloak? Surely, the proper Sibylla Abrantes wasn't implying... But she wasn't, was she? This was something else, perhaps a test, a jab to see if she could unsettle him. Shiraya, she was good at it.

He hesitated just long enough for the silence to grow taut between them, then let out a low exhale that might have been a laugh. Without breaking eye contact, Aurelian reached for the clasp at his collar. The Veruna sigil caught the light one last time before his cloak fell away, slipping from his shoulders in a slow, deliberate motion. Beneath it, his shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, the faint gleam of rain catching on his skin. He stood there for a moment, the chill air on his skin, watching her as if trying to decipher the intent behind her command. "Well," he murmured, his tone wry and half-incredulous, "now what?"

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: An intimate opportunity
Aurelian Veruna

The curve of Sibylla's smile only broadened, revealing the faintest flash of pearly white teeth beneath the dim light. The rain caught on her lashes and the curve of her jaw, softening the sharp lines of amusement that played there.

Even tired, he was striking. Unpolished, stripped of the veneer he so carefully wore in the Assembly or the Palace halls. This was Aurelian without the crown or the mask, and Shiraya help her, she liked him better this way. Perhaps this was what he'd felt whenever he'd tried to draw her out from behind her walls. Dangerous, that thought. Addicting, even.

"Oh, now I take mine off, of course," she quipped, tone light but the glint in her hazel eyes anything but innocent.

Her fingers found the clasp at her throat, the Abrantes sigil glinting briefly before the cloak slipped free in a smooth motion. Beneath it, the dark grey of her tunic clung, the soft fabric shaped by the lithe strength of her frame. The snug black breeches and calf-high boots only completed the picture; the practical attire of someone ready for either a spar or a scandal, were it not for the faint gleam of the shield generator and her vibroshiv at her belt.

Setting the cloak aside, Sibylla stepped forward again, the rain beading against her skin, tracing the line of her throat and the curve of her collarbone. The light chill of the air drew a shiver that looked more like a secret than discomfort.

"I need to ensure I have plenty of freedom for what we'll be doing," she teased, voice dropping lower as if sharing a secret, a few strands of chestnut hair sticking to her cheek as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

"If I remember correctly," she began, her tone thoughtful but laced with mischief, "you once said you'd relish an intimate opportunity to teach me a lesson or two."

A slow, knowing pause then her full lips curved. "Professionally, of course."

Despite the boldness of her words, a faint flush colored her cheeks, giving her away. She was learning how to match him -- how to play, how to push back without retreating. But the effort of not blushing while doing so, that she hadn't quite mastered yet.

"I believe you also said you were quite formidable," she added, eyes glinting with challenge. "And that if I ever wanted to learn from someone more capable, I only had to ask Tona to make time."

Sibylla's chin lifted just slightly, her smile widening into something that danced between amusement and provocation.

"Well then..." Sibylla said softly, stepping close enough that the rain between them seemed to slow. "Consider this my request."

She inclined her head toward the center of the War Cloister's stone floor.

"Care to test just how much I've progressed in my personal defense skills, Aurelian?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Oh... you little...
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's eyes went wide, sharp enough to make the rain between them seem to sprint. For a breath he was confused by the absurd, intimate choreography of her words and movements. He had been with others in less than ideal places. But he had imagined this moment with Sibylla as something that would be ceremonious and heavy with meaning, a single memory stamped onto both of their souls. Not this: not a late-night ambush in a rain-soaked courtyard, ringed by their stony ancestors.

Her laugh, the mischievous tilt of her head, the faint heat coloring her cheeks when she threw his own words back at him; those were the giveaways. The little flush at her throat, the way her gaze sharpened into amusement and challenge simultaneously: suddenly everything clicked. She was playing him. Of course she was. She had always had the cruelest, most exquisite knack for turning his barbs into lessons, his posture into sport. He felt a laugh tumble out of him, part exhale, part surrender.

Relief unfurled slow and warm through his chest. "So this is how you beat me," he said, his voice low and ragged with humor. He let the smile come, crooked and genuine despite the dark crescents under his eyes. "You have to sneak into my courtyard after I've been skinned alive by ledgers and men twice my age, and then you steal the advantage."

Mock indignation undercut the flirt, a wounded and theatrical gesture that was utterly amused. He stepped a fraction closer, rain beading on his lashes, the chill lifting slightly where their shoulders nearly met. Watching the way the torchlight caught the planes of her face, he gave her a look that was patient and dangerous all at once, like a tired soldier hungry for the next challenge.

"Very well," he murmured. "You've earned it. But tell me, how would you would have me tonight, Sibylla? A civil duel of blades on the marble, for the honor of bruises and bragging rights? Or are you feeling unprofessional enough for grappling on the wet stone, mud and rain, with all the improprieties that entails?"

There was a beat where he searched her face, gauging jest from intent, savoring the small, fierce flutter in his ribs that only she could name. Then, with the faintest lift of one brow, he added, softer, almost conspiratorial, "Choose carefully. I have bad habits and an inclination to make lessons unforgettable."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Show me how unprofessional you can be
Aurelian Veruna

"Sneak? Oh no. I was invited," Sibylla countered easily in a light tone, but her smile, that glimmering wicked smile, gave her away. She rocked on the balls of her feet, clasping her hands neatly behind her back as she shone a look that was the very picture of a Loth-cat who'd ate the cream and had no intention of pretending otherwise.

This was the real Sibylla: playful, quick-witted, daring enough to tease a king. There was laughter in her eyes, but something warmer beneath it, something that hummed with quiet fondness. She wanted to see him smile again.

And though humor often served as her shield, here, standing before the weary Aurelian, she wasn't hiding behind it. Tonight, she only wanted to make him smile.

She had, after all, asked Tona to arrange the defense lessons. But the choice of time and place had been the assistant's doing, and when Sibylla had inquired why, Tona had replied that it was in Aurelian's best interest. The phrasing alone had told Sibylla everything she needed to know. Aurelian was right about Tona -- loyalty personified. Even Corde had quietly confirmed there were troubles brewing on Parrlay that kept the Aurelian tethered to his duties. He would never leave until they were settled.

Concern had brought her here as much as curiosity. That, and the selfish ache of missing him.

And if she could earn a single grin, perhaps even turn his own words against him just to see that spark in his weary eyes, then the trip would be worth it.

Of course, playing with Aurelian always came with risks. Even exhausted, he was still Aurelian -- all provocation and dangerous charm.

She tilted her head slightly, pretending to deliberate as he spoke, though her gaze betrayed the mischief that danced behind it. The rain drew silver threads across her hair, catching against her lashes as she gave a slow nod. That was, until he added the line about having a bad habit of making lessons unforgettable.

Hazel eyes flicked up to meet amber, amusement flashing there before she arched a brow and let a quiet laugh escape.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," she said finally as her voice lilted with soft amusement and the delicate brown brows rose in mock challenge.

"But no," she continued, the humor easing into something steadier. "If anything, I learned my lesson on Kenari." Her tone grew quieter, the words carrying a memory that still stung. "Unprofessional enough for grappling on wet stone, mud, and rain it is."

The brief somberness in her eyes betrayed the recollection of that night at Kenari and how she'd survived it. Yet as she looked back at him, the darkness eased, and a faint warmer smile ghosted across her lips once more, knowing he'd understand. She wasn't asking for honor-bound training and drilled expectations. Just like how he had Elian vetted for what he would be able to do as a Kingsguard, she needed every tool in her arsenal for whatever might come her way again. Not that she would deliberately be looking for trouble, but as a final resort.

"I just need to be sure that if all else fails, I know what to do," she said softly. "If I'm ever backed into a corner again."

Then, meeting his gaze fully, she added with quiet conviction and that familiar spark of challenge, "And I know you'll make certain of it...that instinct wins over hesitation in such situations."

"So go on then," Sibylla said softly, stepping closer until the space between them narrowed to a breath.

"Show me, Aurelian Veruna. Just how unforgettable your lessons can be."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Now what?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian huffed a low laugh, his head tilting as he regarded her through the falling rain. "Invited, were you? Then I'll have words with Tona about her definition of mercy." His smile was crooked and lazy, the kind that came when fatigue dulled his restraint. The exhaustion in his bones didn't stop the mischief from stirring; if anything, it sharpened it.

Aurelian exhaled slowly through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching back toward amusement. "Grappling, then," he murmured. "I knew you couldn't resist being unprofessional with me."

He didn't give her time to respond. In a blur of motion that was all muscle and impulse, he lunged, catching her with an easy strength that surprised even himself. His arm hooked securely around her waist, and before Sibylla could protest, he'd hoisted her clean off her feet and over his shoulder.

The laugh that tore out of him was real this time: loud, rough, and unrestrained. "Well then, Lady Abrantes," he called over the sound of the storm, his voice half a growl, half a grin. "You said you wanted a lesson... what are you going to do now?"

"Careful," he warned playfully, leaning just enough to make her gasp. "Instinct over hesitation, remember? You'll have to fight dirty to get free."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Bet!
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla barely had time to gasp before she was swept clean off her feet.

Her startled yelp cut through the rain, followed by a burst of laughter that rang off the marble walls.

"Aurelian!" she cried, half-scandalized, half-delighted, smacking his arm in reflex as she dangled over his shoulder, the world tipping upside down in a blur of black marble and gold torchlight. But Aurelian had underestimated her. Two brothers meant she'd been well trained in escaping this exact brand of foolishness

Instinct over hesitation, he'd said. Fine.

In a single, practiced motion, Sibylla shifted her weight, slipped her arms around under his chin and around his neck to grab her other wrist in a guillotine choke. The sharp, surprised grunt that escaped him was deeply satisfying as she then swung her legs to wrap around his waist and crossed her legs to lock them on his back. She held -- hard, mentally counting down the seconds. She slid free just as he staggered, the blood loss to his head making the already exhausted Veruna immediately dizzy, dropping to his knees as his arms went slack, and she immediately shoved him back onto the rain-slick courtyard with a hefty shove.

A moment later, the elected King of Naboo was on his back, water needling down on him like scattered starlight. Sibylla stood over him, chest rising with a mixture of adrenaline and triumph, wet hair clinging to her cheeks, and an irrepressible grin curving her lips.

"Surely you've got better than that," she quipped, her voice bright with mischief. "Or was that supposed to be the lesson?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Where did you learn that one?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian lay there for a stunned second, blinking up through the rain. His breath came rough and uneven against the slick stone. The world tilted slightly, or maybe that was just the aftermath of her chokehold. Whatever it was, he couldn't help it: the laugh that escaped him was ragged and delighted.

He propped himself up on an elbow, hair plastered to his forehead, amber eyes glinting through the rain. "Shiraya's mercy," he rasped, voice thick with amusement. "You actually dropped me." He ran a hand across his mouth, still catching his breath, and let out another laugh that bordered on incredulous. "That was..." He paused, grin widening. "That was hot."

Pushing to his feet, he exaggerated a wince, one hand pressed to his side in mock pain. "You wound me, Sibylla. Truly. My pride, my royal dignity, all shattered on your account." The humor was back in his tone, smooth and dangerous now, curling around every word. He rolled his shoulders as though testing old injuries, his motions deliberate, meant only to distract. "But if you wanted me on my back, you only had to ask," he added with a crooked smile.

He took a step closer, slow, the picture of a man still recovering. And then he moved. In the space between heartbeats, his hand shot out, catching her wrist as his foot swept her ankle. The wet marble betrayed her balance, and before she could recover, he spun her momentum back against her, pulling her flush against his chest. One arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her neatly in place.

"Better," he murmured near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "But you celebrate too early." His smile was audible, teasing and low. "Lesson number two, my Queen: never gloat while your opponent's still breathing." He loosened his grip just enough for her to move, but the challenge in his eyes made it clear he didn't plan on letting her go without a fight.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Is that all you got?
Aurelian Veruna


The blasted man was a walking distraction, and he knew it.

First came the low, smug murmur -- 'That was hot.' Then that lazy, wicked grin followed by, 'If you wanted me on my back, you only had to ask.

Sibylla’s pulse spiked, heat blooming traitorously across her cheeks as she tried her best not to stare at how the dark, damp strands of his curls stuck to his temples, framing a face made sharper by fatigue and torchlight. All the while, those amber eyes gleamed with that familiar, infuriating spark of challenge. So much for the man supposedly run ragged by politics and ledgers.

"You're ridiculous," she swore, though the tremor in her voice betrayed how close she was to laughing or swearing.

Not that it mattered, he moved before she could breathe.

One heartbeat, he was smirking; the next, he was on her quickly and merciless. The world tilted as he pulled her in, their bodies colliding with a solid, heavy sound that stole her breath.

His arm locked around her waist, drawing her flush against him, feeling the damp heat of his chest, the scent of rain and ironwood clinging to his skin. His breath ghosted over her ear in that low and taunting velvet rasp that slid down her spine, coaxing a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

For a heartbeat, she froze, her pulse roaring in her ears as her thoughts blanked.

Then she moved.

Sibylla's free palm shot up, smashing hard into his chin. Aurelian's head snapped back with a rough sound, his grip loosening just enough for her next strike, the heel of her hand slamming into his solar plexus with a sharp and satisfying impact that made his breath whoosh out of him in a grunt that cut through the storm.

Sibylla broke free, boots splashing against the rain slick marble as she took two steadying steps back, wet hair whipping against her cheek. She tilted her chin up, hazel eyes flashing, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as her chest quickly rose and fell with exhilaration.

She'd been practicing, and so far, it seemed as if things were working out in her favor to show her improvement. But perhaps she should have taken Aurelian’s warning more seriously.

"Still think that was hot?" she called over the sound of the rain in a breathless tone that was equal parts dangerous challenge and laughter, only this time, she kept her body fluid and ready to move, so when he tried to grab her again she caught his wrist mid-reach, turning with him instead of against him. In a blink, she had his arm bent and his back to her chest, her breath hot against his rain speckled neck.

"Careful, Aurelian," she whispered, tone teasing and low. "Never give me your hands if you're afraid to lose control."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: You've been practicing
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian staggered back a half step. The sharp crack of her palm snapped his head to the side, pain blooming across his jaw, hot and immediate. This was followed by the dull thud of her hand driving into his sternum. The air left his lungs in a rough grunt, his spine curving instinctively as he fought to draw a breath. For a moment, all he could do was laugh: hoarse, breathless, but completely alive.

"Shiraya, you've been practicing," he rasped, one hand pressing to his ribs as he straightened. The ache only deepened his grin. "Good."

He turned toward her, amber eyes gleaming through the storm. There it was: pride flaring bright behind the exhaustion. Her form was sharp, her instincts clean. That mattered to him more than he'd ever admit aloud.

Then she twisted on him again. Quick, clever, in the next breath, he was the one caught. Her arm locked his wrist, dragging him off balance, his back pressed flush to her front. The press of her breath against his neck was searing in the chill rain.

He huffed out a low laugh, his head tipping slightly toward her voice. "Yes," he said, his voice dropping to that lazy, dangerous drawl, "still hot." His grin audible. "And no, I'm not afraid to lose control to you."

Then he moved. A sudden shift of weight, deliberate and fluid. His heel slid against the marble, anchoring his stance as he ducked low and rolled with her grip instead of fighting it. His free hand caught her thigh; his momentum dragged her off balance as he twisted down and over, using her own hold to flip her clean onto the slick stone. The impact echoed sharp and wet. He was already following through, one knee braced beside her hip, his leg locking hers neatly in a controlled pin.

Rain sprinkles around them, water tracing the line of his jaw as he leaned in close enough that she could feel the rasp of his breath against her cheek.

"Better," he murmured, his eyes searching hers with that same mix of warmth and challenge. "But don't get too cocky." His voice dropped to a whisper, rough and steady. "What are you going to do now, Sibylla? Don't think." He shifted his weight just enough to tighten the lock, the strain of muscle on muscle tangible in the narrow space between them. "React."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Didn't practice enough. What's with these pins?!
Aurelian Veruna

For a moment, all Sibylla could do was blink up at the rain.

The impact had driven the air right out of her lungs, leaving her sprawled flat on the slick marble with her cloak half-tangled beneath her. The rain soaked through the thin layers of her tunic, plastering fabric to skin, strands of chestnut hair sticking to her cheek as she gasped. Stars danced in her vision. And then of course, Aurelian's face appeared above her.

"Oh, pfassk me…" she muttered under her breath, half-groan, half-laugh. It was the testing grounds all over again. Except this time, her opponent was a smirking interim Chancellor who knew exactly how to use gravity to his advantage.

His expression hovered somewhere between pleased and infuriatingly amused, that crooked grin doing far too much damage to her composure. And damn it all, he looked proud of her. The thought almost made her smile even as her ribs protested. It meant something -- that he'd seen her progress, that she could fight back, that he wouldn't have to wear that haunted look again like on Kenari.

But sentiment only went so far when one was currently pinned under the King of Parrlay.

Her breath came back in sharp bursts, eyes narrowing as she realized just how efficiently he'd trapped her. The pressure on her leg made her grimace.

"Okay," she rasped, the corners of her lips twitching into a dry laugh. "Maybe I deserved that one."

Then instinct kicked in. If she couldn't finesse her way out, she'd brute force it if he was gonna hover over her.

Her free leg shot upward, knee driving toward his side. The sudden strike made him grunt, and she used the momentary shift in his balance to try and roll hard to the right, twisting beneath his arm and trying to make sure her ankle didn't snap. The move wasn't pretty, but it was quick; Sibylla twisted just enough to get herself half free, only for both of them to slip in the rain and end up tangled in a graceless heap.

Okay, so she didn't do so well that time with the unfamiliar pin.