I stared at him, my heart pounding as I prepared for an argument. Did he seriously march into my room and demand that I get dressed?
His expression was calm, but focused. He watched me with his pale blue eyes, his patience clearly on a timer.
I squared off with him for a moment, but seeing his jaw set in place, I groaned audibly and grabbed my gear. He didn’t move as I meandered around my dorm, snatching each piece item by item since I’d tossed it all over the floor the day before. Giving him a brief glare, I went into the bathroom and changed.
Our walk to the training hall was quiet aside from the heavy footfalls of our thick-soled boots. I took slow, steadying breaths, the evenly paced rhythm of our gait oddly calming. Maybe it was him. Caelan exuded confidence and an air of certainty that was already drawing out my anxiety.
I’d felt such stress after the match with Ji-Han that my entire body was exhausted. I didn’t know if I’d ever fight again.
“Your skill is impressive,” Caelan said, still looking forward.
Shifting awkwardly, I didn’t respond.
“You have not injured someone before, have you?” he asked.
“No.”
I thought of Derrick and all the time we spent sparring. He was untouchable, unless, of course, he was trying to prove a point to an impetuous young woman. He’d been my only true sparring partner with whom I had no restrictions. I could do anything in a sparring match with him and have no fear of harming him. He also never injured me. Being in that chokehold had been terrifying.
“That will not be the last time you injure a fellow Initiate,” he said. “You are talented, and you must train as if the threat is real.”
“I won’t harm my friends,” I said.
I followed him into the empty training hall.
He walked to the center and turned to face me.
“You will,” he said firmly. “I promise you there will be no long-term ramifications. I will not let you cause serious harm.”
“Then why did you let me cut him at all?” I said, gritting my teeth.
“I knew it was not life-threatening. The angle of your blade, the speed of your movement, and the ferocity of your intent—I could see it all,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “How can that be? That’s impossible.”
“Not to me,” he said. “Real combat trains you in a way nothing else can. Experiencing it here, in a controlled environment, will prolong your life. Get a sword.”
My fingers twitched as I reached for the sabre, my hand closing around the familiar grip of the hilt. The weight felt different now, heavier with the memory of Ji-Han’s blood.
Once I returned to the floor, he drew his blade—a sleek, well-worn longsword that gleamed under the rays that streamed in from the skylights. His movements were fluid and controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge to him. This wasn’t a sparring session.
This was survival training.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, jaw tight.
“Good.” He moved first.
The strength of his opening strike sent a shockwave up my arm as I barely blocked in time. Sparks flew as our blades met, and I stumbled, gritting my teeth.
“Stay on your feet,” he barked, circling me with deadly focus. “Again.”
He came at me hard—his strikes relentless, calculated, meant to overwhelm me. My muscles burned as I parried, stepping out of reach of a sweeping blow aimed at my ribs.
“Whoever trained you went easy on you,” Caelan said, his voice harsh as he drove me back. “A parent? A cousin? Whoever it was, they cared for you. You hesitate. In real combat, you will be dead before you have time to flinch.”
The words cut deep, but they fueled something inside me—a spark of defiance. I wasn’t here to be pitied or coddled.
