She would never have expected to see Ivaine and Icarus fighting against her had she not been present at her own trial when they'd stood forward with Vaughan. They'd all been friends, spent summers and long nights together under a sky full of stars, telling jokes to pass the time. That day was a hard lesson, a cruel one - that even your closest friends could turn their backs on you in the pursuit of favor and power.

She hates them for that memory, and it makes it so much easier to bring her bronze dagger down over and over against Ivaine, the clatter of blades singing through the forest like a beautiful and violent musical.

Behind her, Archer holds his own like the Knight she knew he would be; she chances a glance to her protector and his assailant, her eyes widening at the sight of Archer's side, blood bubbling from a fresh wound. Her breath hisses through her teeth and she uses her agony and rage to channel her strengths, her power a heavy blanket over her. The blade in her hand lengthens, molding to its longer and thinner shape like soft clay before solidifying again, the dagger now a thin, sword-like weapon.

With a feral yell, she brings it down toward Ivaine, her eyes wild, her features sharpened to accentuate her fae nature.

Ivaine is quick, dodging her attacks with nimble footwork, managing to stay just out of range of Blaise's blade; they'd fought together too many times for her to be fooled by Blaise's tricks. In fact, Ivaine seemed to be toying with her - slicing this way and that, until finally, a blow lands across Blaise's milk white collar bone, cutting a thin slice across the bone.

Her teeth bare, a guttural growl escaping her as the pain turns into hate. She parries another blow, glancing at Archer once more to see that he's managed to injure Icarus; a smirk curls her mouth and she shouts to him, her voice a high shriek, ringing with satisfaction. "Don't kill him, if you can help it," she manages between another block, the chink of blades ringing in her ear. "We'll send them home with a message..."

Her grin widens and she turns her attention back to Ivaine, feinting left and plunging forward, her blade piercing the fae girl's shoulder and running through. She whips it out, knocking Ivaine's arm aside and narrowly avoiding a dangerous blow that instead grazes her cheek, slicing a line of red from her temple to her nostril.

She jumps back, wiping the blood flow with the back of her hand before diving back into the fray, her bronze needle of a sword slicing across Ivaine's chest.

When her old friend falls to the ground to guard her wound, Blaise springs back, crouching into a defensive pose, her eyes narrowed as they shift from one twin to the other.

"Shall we continue, or can I trust you to send my love to dear Vaughan," she purrs, ignoring the burn coming from the cuts Ivaine's ice blade had left.

Her mercy is a warning - to Vaughan and any who might side with him or her dear aunt. The next time they came for her, she might not be so inclined to let them escape with their lives.

Her eyes shift to Archer, a peculiar and unfamiliar feeling turning her stomach to a sea of acid - worry. She eyes the wound at his side, praying that Icarus hadn't poisoned his blade or cut through something vital.

She tells herself that she's only worried about replacing him; it's easy to believe the lie when you've never known how to feel.