Elowen.
I exhale hard, my fingers tightening on the balcony stone. I don’t trust him. I can’t. Yet, the unease in my chest isn’t only grief or rage. It’s doubt, too. Doubt in my kingdom’s safety. Doubt in Queen Elowen’s fake smiles. Doubt in the future that looms like a storm cloud above my head.
What if he’s right?
I tear myself away from the railing.I need a distraction.
Inside again, I close the balcony doors. Stripping the robe away, I trade it for my leather tunic, boots, and gloves. The familiar weight settles against me, comforting in its own way. Once I'm dressed, I make my way outside to the barracks. I need sweat, bruises, and the ache of muscles forced past their limit. I need a blade in my hand. Something to silence the war inside my head.
The ring of steel carries across the training yard. I slow, drawn to it. The clang repeats, quick and uneven. I step around the wall of the barracks and halt.
Torin is in the sparring ring. Opposite him, sweat plastering dark hair to his brow, tunic clinging, stance laughably poor, is Koen.
Of course.
His golden eyes flick to me as soon as I step forward,like he felt me before he saw me. His expression is guarded and unreadable, save for the flicker of something I can’t name.
“I thought they kept royalty away from the commoners,” he says, lowering his practice blade with a casual arrogance that makes my teeth clench.
“I’m not here for you.”
Torin notices me, surprise softening into a grin. “Morning, Ren. I was just finishing up—”
“Finishing up? Withhim? He holds that sword like it’s a broom.”
Koen shifts, resting the blade flat against his shoulder with deliberate ease. “You were much more likableyesterday.”
I don’t even dignify him with a glance. “I came to spar,” I tellTorin.
He hesitates, glancing between us, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Actually, you might be the better teacher today.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He gives me an apologetic shrug. “I have to meet Captain Merek, and you’re right, Koen still needs practice. So…”
My glare sharpens. “You want me totrainhim?”
“I’d rather not,” Koen cuts in immediately.
“Good,” I snap. “Because I don’t want to.”
Torin claps his hands together once, already retreating. “Perfect. Glad you both agree. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Crossing my arms, I stare at him with narrowed eyes as he strides away.
When I turn back, Koen is watching me. Theexasperation is still there, but now something else glints beneath it. Challenge.
“Well?” he drawls. “Are you going to scowl me into becoming a better swordsman, or are you actually going to train me?”
I march across the training ring, grip a practice blade, and mutter, “You’ll wish I had just scowled.”
He smirks. And that only fuels my irritation.
------------? ? ? ? ?------------
I spin, blade slashing in a sharp arc that Koen barely blocks. His stance is better than I originally expected, but he’s still too slow. I duck beneath his swing and slam the flat of my blade into his ribs. He grunts, stumbling.
“I thought you said you were a fast learner,” I taunt.
