His sparring opponent's pommel connected sharply with his chest, knocking the air out of him, and Zayn tumbled to the ground. The next thing he knew, the other mercenary was pinning him down, pushing a knee to his chest, holding the tip of a blade against his throat.

Zayn's eyes narrowed as he tried to catch his breath. "Damn it," he rasped. "Remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea to spar with you."

Laughter erupted from his opponent's chest, a mischievous twinkle in those gorgeous eyes, and Zayn looked away, cursing his rapidly beating heart. After a moment, the pressure on his chest was gone; the blade was put away and a hand was offered, which he took, allowing himself to be pulled up.

He'd joined the prestigious mercenary company known as the Shadowclaws months ago, after a failed attempt at pickpocketing his current sparring partner in a busy market. Zayn had thought he'd been stealthy, but his mark had turned at the last second, grabbing his wrist. To his surprise, instead of a knife in the gut, or a punch to the face, or a call for the guards, the result had been an extended hand and an offer to meet the captain.

It had been a stroke of luck. The mercenary captain had trialed him in combat and, despite absolutely pummeling fifteen-year-old Zayn, had offered him a place in the company. Now he had a roof over his head, food in his belly, and a place where his skill set could be used. Not only that, he'd been promised help with finding his missing sister Mayna, taken by bandits several years ago.

His current sparring partner was the leader's younger sibling, one of the few people who could best the captain in a fight despite being close to Zayn in age. His first friend in the company, one of the greatest fighters he'd ever seen, and the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on.

"I'll beat you one of these days," Zayn said, hoping to hell and back that he wasn't blushing. "Just you wait."