The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 480

Liora’s POV

The tournament was all anyone could talk about for the next three days.

Everywhere I went, students were discussing which disciplines they had signed up for, who they thought would win the combat rounds, and whether anyone actually stood a chance against Bianca in combat.

The betting pools had already started. Most people were putting their money on Bianca, which wasn’t surprising. She was the heir, after all; she had her wolf, and she had that freakishly strong bodyguard following her around everywhere she went. Few were even considering challenging her at all.

I tried to ignore it all and focus on training. Every morning before class, I went to the gym and ran through the drills Marcus had taught me all my life. Footwork. Blocking. How to use an opponent’s weight against them. My body ached constantly, muscles protesting every movement, but I kept pushing.

Because if I was going to fight Bianca, I needed every advantage I could get.

On Thursday, I had combat class. I usually dreaded it because the instructor had a habit of calling me out in front of everyone. But today I was almost looking forward to it. Combat class meant sparring, and sparring meant more practice, which I sorely needed.

I changed into my gym clothes and headed to the training room. Most of the class was already there, stretching or chatting in small groups. I found a spot near the back, ignoring Callum, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded while he talked to Drake, and started warming up, rolling my shoulders and stretching my legs.

The professor walked in a few minutes later. “Alright, listen up,” he barked. “Today we’re doing sparring drills. I’ll be pairing you up based on skill level. When I call your name, grab your partner and head to a mat.”

He started rattling off names. I half-listened, going through my stretches. I was expecting to be paired with another wolfless, as usual. Someone I could actually practice with without worrying about getting my face smashed in.

“Liora,” the professor called out. I looked up. “You’re with Bianca.”

The room went silent, all heads turning toward me.

I straightened and didn’t move right away. “Who?” I asked.

The professor shot me a look over the top rim of his glasses. “You heard me. Mat three.”

Bianca, who had been standing near the front with her usual gaggle of followers, turned and looked at me. Her lips curved into a saccharine smile as she sauntered over to the mat.

“This should be fun,” I heard someone say. I pretended not to notice.

Resisting the urge to curse out loud, I grabbed my water bottle and walked over to mat three. Bianca was already there, bouncing on her toes and stretching one arm across her chest, then the other.

“Standard rules,” the professor said once everyone had found their partners. I didn’t bother looking at Callum, but I could sense his presence at the other end of the room, also pointedly ignoring me just like I was ignoring him. “No claws, no teeth, no shifting. First person to pin their opponent for a three-count wins. Begin when you’re ready.”

Bianca lowered into a fighting stance. I did the same, keeping my distance. She was wearing tight athletic clothes that showed off her figure, and her hair was pulled back in a bun. The tiara was gone, probably locked up somewhere safe.

“Ready to lose?” she asked.

“We’ll see.”

The professor blew his whistle.

Bianca lunged first. She was fast, I’d give her that. Her wolf had definitely gotten stronger since being named heir. But her form was sloppy. She relied too much on brute strength, throwing punches without thinking about defense.

I easily dodged the first swing and ducked under the second. When she overextended on the third, I grabbed her wrist and twisted, using her momentum to flip her onto her back.

She hit the mat hard and gasped. I didn’t give her time to recover. I dropped down, trying to pin her shoulders, but she rolled to the side and kicked out. Her foot caught me in the ribs, and I stumbled back, sputtering.

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