Yuki gasps. Air. Sweet air not choked with honey. And then she back kicks in a silver heel, sending Walking Elm stumbling away from her before falling into stride with Aadya. It’s nothing truly damaging, not even a harm to her dignity with all eyes turned to the dark dragon. But it is a reflex, and perhaps a warning. Walking Elm will meet only ice from Yuki the next time she sees her. 

But there isn’t time for reprisals or for the sort of shiver that Yuki might have run through her to shake off her lingering feeling of drowning in her own body. Not when Aadya is pulling her so urgently and so suddenly into the melee. Not when she’s suddenly part of the five against one fight against the dark dragon in the flesh. 

At first there’s instinct. Paladins are sent flying, the dark dragon flings a sword across the room to pin someone else, and so before she knows it, Yuki’s heartaxe, the weapon that cut Aria Thendragon, is in her hands and she stands before the dark dragon. 

Perhaps she ought to strike at once, make such a great cut that it must be met to offer an opening for Aadya to bring her own great glaive to bear. And to give the other knights a chance to recover. Instead, she hesitates. Her hands tremble, and her eyes stare at this strange woman dressed as Heron dressed as the dragon. Why had she done that? Why had she fought at Vespergift? If she had just left Aria alone, Yuki couldn’t have held her off. And neither could the suitors. 

She stares up at the dragon, even as Aadya circles for an opening. Even as Yuki still holds her ace up high. “You…you saved my life” she says, loud enough to be heard even over the rattling of chain and the murmur of the crowd. “…why?”