The rhythm came easily. Feet steady. Wrists fluid. Maris had always been quick, but now there was something more — anticipation, almost premonition. She could read Serenya’s movements like lines in a book, lean just far enough to dodge a blow, pivot just right to strike without truly landing a hit.
“Careful,” Serenya said between steps. “I might start getting jealous.”
Maris narrowed her eyes. “Of?”
Serenya smirked. “Whoever taught you to move like this.”
The jab nearly made her falter. She covered it with a sharp twist and riposte, blade ringing as it met Serenya’s in a clean clash.
“You mean the ancient goddess’ magic, the shadow or the blonde prick?” she asked.
Serenya gave her a look, lifting her hand up in denfense. “You said it, not me.”
A laugh slipped past Maris’s lips short, sharp, honest.
Gods, it felt good to laugh. To move. To not think about the dream or what came after. But even now, her senses remained attuned. Searching.
She felt him before she saw him.
The air shifted, warmth prickled across her skin, like the sun catching too long on bare shoulders.
She didn’t look. Not right away.
But she knew.
Alarik.
He was watching and suddenly, the blade in her hand felt heavy. The leather restricting.
Serenya straightened, blade lowered. “You’re distracted.”
“No.”
“You are.” Serenya stepped close, speaking softer now. “Whatever it is,whoever it is, you need to face it or …them. Cough. Cough. ” She winked.
Maris didn’t respond.
She didn’t need to.
Because behind her, a footstep sounded on deck and his presence wrapped around her like a storm-wind just waiting for her to turn. The air practically crackled between them.
Alarik said nothing at first. His footsteps halted somewhere near the helm, pretending as much she was, that there wasn’t a current pulling them toward each other.
Maris blew out a slow breath, stepping back into position opposite Serenya. She rolled her wrist once. “Again?”
Serenya smirked knowingly but raised her blade. “You sure you’re not too… whats the word … overheated?”
Maris narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine.”
Liar.
Their blades met again in a flurry of motion clashing, sweeping, spinning, but it wasn’t the same. Not with him so near. Not with his eyes searing into her. She was burning beneath it.
She lunged, and missed. Serenya parried and spun behind her. “You should talk to him.”
Maris stiffened, then pivoted sharply. “I don’t want to.”
Serenya raised a brow mid-step. “ I'm not sure I believe that.”
