Thauren nodded once. “It’s not a breach anymore. It’s an invasion.”
The room fell cold.
For a moment, all Maris could envision was her end.
She turned away, facing the window again.
“Nowhere is safe,” Thauren said behind her. “Not Calanthe. Not Nythra. Not Eryndor. Not even Virellia’s strongholds. We’ll hold council within the hour, but I wanted you to know first. Everyone will be watching for your reaction.”
Maris closed her eyes.
She needed to steady herself.
Maris couldn’t sit and wait for the meeting. Not with Thauren’s warning still burning under her skin.
Nowhere is safe.
The phrase looped endlessly in her thoughts, unrelenting as the storm outside.
She snatched up her leathers and sword gifted by Kael and left the chambers.
She found Serenya in the southern training ring, already stretching beneath the ironwood arbor. Rain misted through the high arches, silver threads weaved through her hair as she rose, startled.
“Gods,” Serenya said with a soft grin, “you look like you’ve seen the end of the world.”
Maris managed a crooked smile. “Maybe I have.”
Serenya didn’t ask. She simply raised her blade and stepped back into stance.
The metal felt at home in Maris’s hand, weight and promise, sharp enough to silence the fear screaming in her ribs. She took her place without a word, and together they began to move.
Strike. Parry. Sweep. Twist.
Their footwork found rhythm. Their breath matched. Every motion bled out what wordscould not.
Rain slicked their faces. Leathers creaked with effort. The courtyard echoed with the whisper of steel and the pounding of heartbeats.
“You’re heavier with your strikes,” Serenya said as their blades locked. “Good. The fear is making you ruthless.”
Maris grunted. “It’s not fear.”
Serenya arched her brow.
“…Okay, maybe it’s a little fear,” Maris muttered, ducking under a swing and pivoting behind her.
Before Serenya could answer, a pair of deep voices broke into the mist.
“Well, well,” Corin drawled from the stairwell. “Looks like the god-queen is getting cocky.”
Maris didn’t flinch as her blade caught Serenya’s. “I’m coping.”
“That’s what they all say before I knock them flat,” Riven added, stepping beside Corin, arms flexing, one silver brow lifted in challenge.
Serenya grinned and pulled back, breathless. “We spar in peace no longer, I take it?”
“Peace is overrated,” Corin said, striding into the circle. He pulled his sword free with a low hum of steel and gave Maris a crooked smirk. “Besides… she needs to learn how to fight with distractions.”
“Distractions?” Maris echoed, squinting.
