He comes at me again, faster this time. The first blow rattles up my arm, the second nearly slips past my guard, but I block them both. He ducks low under my third strike, twisting behind me. I pivot sharply, blade meeting his again in a sharp clash of steel against steel.
For a few heartbeats, we blur together. Strike, block, counter, duck. His movements aren’t elegant, not yet, but there’s something about his determination, the way he refuses to yield, that makes it harder to breathe.
He hesitates. Just a fraction of a breath, but enough. I sweep low, hook his ankle, and send him crashing to the ground. He lands flat on his back with a grunt, dust billowing up around him. Before he can recover, I’m on him, my knee pressing into his side, blade lightly against his throat. Pinning him. Again.
His chest rises and falls beneath me, each breath quick and uneven. His gold eyes flick across my face, unreadable—except for the way, just for an instant, something falters in them. Something unguarded. It slips through before he quickly masks it.
My breath catches, a strange ache blooming behind my ribs. I freeze for a long moment, lost in his stare. The world falls away, and for a briefest second, I can’t remember why I’ve beentrying so hard to hate him.
His eyes search mine. For what? I’m not sure. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, my magic stirs—restless, and my shadows, once again, try to reach for him.
I’m jolted back to the present. Holding my shadows back, I push off him before I can think too much about what just happened.
“I win. Again,” I say, breathless.
He mutters something under his breath, sitting up and brushing dirt from his shirt, his movements frustrated.
“Only because you cheat.”
I scoff. “I don’t cheat. I’m just better.”
He looks up at me then, eyes catching mine with a heat that makes my stomach twist. I have to force myself not to look away. I don’t want him to know how he is affecting me.
“One of these days, I’ll beat you, little shadow.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say lightly, though the words scrape in my throat. My chest is still too tight, and I hate that I feel it.
Before he can respond, a smooth voice cuts through the tension. “Am I interrupting something?”
Both of us turn. Asbel strolls across the training yard, all elegance in black and silver, an ornate sword at his hip.
Straightening, I lower my blade. “No interruption. We were just finishing.”
“Pity.” His eyes flick between Koen and me, a knowing glint in them. “It looked entertaining.”
Koen’s jaw tightens, the muscle twitching as he pointedly wipes his palms against his trousers.
Asbel offers me a slight bow, smooth and practiced. “Princess, I was wondering if I might request your insight on a few battle formations later. I’d value your expertise.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because Koen is still here, glaring. I hate that his presence makes me feel like I have to choose.
“I’ll think about it,” I say at last. “For now, I need a break.”
I turn, walking past both men without another word. When I glance back, just for a moment, Koen is still watching me. Not with hate. Not even frustration. With something that almost looks like longing. I quickly turn back around, heading for my safe space.
The wind tugs gently at the edges of my cloak, and the tall grass brushes my fingers as I walk. The sea of wildflowers bowsand swayswith each breeze. I drop to my knees in the middle of them, exhaling hard.
I only get a moment of peace before the wind changes. I hear the wings before I see them. That soft, leathery flutter that doesn’t belong to any bird in this realm.
You have to be kidding me.
I stand, my hand already tightening at my side and my shadows stirring faintly under my skin. I slowly turn toward the sound just as the bat dives down through the air, swift and silent.
It lands about ten steps from me, wings furling inward. The shape elongates, twisting, bones snapping, and limbs stretching. Until, with fluid grace, Dimitri is standing where the bat had been, brushing invisible dust from the sleeves of his tailored black coat.
“Really?” I say flatly. “A bat? You’re nothing if not theatrical.”
Dimitri gives me a mock bow. “You wound me, Princess. Would you prefer I rise from a coffin next time?”
