At some point, Senka disappears, but I don’t stop.
The steady rhythm of my strikes, the repetitive motion—it’s the only thing holding me together. My breathing comes hard and fast, my muscles burn, but I can’t let up. Not yet.
It isn’t until I catch movement from the corner of my eye that I realize Senka’s returned, and with Kian in tow. Kian’s tall frame is unmistakable. His lavender eyes lock on me as he closes the distance. Concern flickers across his features, softening the angular lines of his face.
I freeze mid-strike, my dagger poised inches from the dummy’s chest.
“At it early again, Princess?” A note of worry lies beneath his usual calm.
Straightening, I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit, my voice hoarse from exertion.
His gaze softens as he studies me, his eyes searching mine as if he could see straight through the facade I’m clinging to. “That doesn’t mean you should push yourself until you break.”
“I’m fine,” I retort too quickly, the words defensive enough I know he doesn’t believe me.
Kian doesn’t reply immediately, though he does step closer, making me tip my head back. “You’ve got nothing to prove, Everly,” he says quietly. “Not to me, not to anyone.”
His words hit harder than I want to admit. I look away, my grip tightening on the dagger in my hand.
“I can’t stop,” I murmur. “If I stop, the thoughts . . . the memories . . . they’ll take over.”
Silence stretches between us, then he dips his head. “Then let’s train.”
For a moment, I don’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I nod, the knot in my chest loosening.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mia, Scarlett, and Tristan stepping into the training grounds. Mia’s eyes light up when she sees me, and she waves. Scarlett has a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips while Tristan nods. I wave back, already curious about what has brought them here. Before I can call out, Tristan turns to Senka, who is adjusting the wraps on her hands, and gestures for her to come over. Senka dips her head, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face before making her way over. She is one of the best fighters here. She has sharp instincts and swift counterattacks. My friends gather around as she and Tristan begin demonstrating some basic defensive stances. My heart warms instantly. Tristan wants to ensure my friends are ready for anything.
My attention shifts back to Kian then to the dagger in my hand.
“Ready to go again?” Kian asks.
“Yes,” I reply, flipping the dagger in the air.
Kian's grin returns, the dimples showing in both cheeks.
"Right."
I focus on his voice and the steady rhythm of his directions. Even now, after everything, he moves with that same effortless grace, his tone calm and patient as he corrects my stance or adjusts the angle of my strikes.
Despite it all—despite the betrayal—I can’t bring myself to hate him. When Kian told Alivar things about me, things he never should have, it felt like a dagger to the back. But time has softened that wound, if only slightly. I still think of him as a friend—a good one—even if he’s a stupid one who made a dumb,reckless choice.
And despite my anger, I know in deep down he’d do anything for me. Just like I’d do anything for him.
There is a bond between us, and it might be strained under the weight of disappointment, but it’s still there, steady and resilient. I trust him, even now. Perhaps that makes me foolish, but I can’t shake the certainty that Kian’s mistakes were born from a place of care, however misguided.
“Focus,” Kian’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. His lavender eyes meet mine, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Unless you plan on daydreaming your way through this fight.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Just thinking about how much trouble you are.”
He chuckles, a soft sound that eases some of the tension knotting in my chest. “Good to know I’m still living rent-free in your head.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back, but a small smile creeps onto my face despite myself.
“She isn’t going to learn shit if you keep babying her,” a harsh, rough voice cuts through the air. I swipe the sweat from my forehead and frown, turning to see Fenris leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Kian tenses beside me, his jaw tight. “I’m not babying her,” he snaps.
“Looks like you are to me,” Fenris drawls, his gaze steady and challenging. “You’re just taking it easy on her, hoping she’ll forgive you for betraying her.”
