“I’m working,” I say curtly, though my voice feels stiff from exhaustion.
“Mm.” His lips curve. “Work will still be here in an hour. Come spar with me.”
I blink. “Spar? Now?”
“I’ll go easy on you since you’re still healing.”
I snort. “You? Go easy? You don’t even know the meaning of that phrase.”
“Then you’d better keep up.” His smile turns sharp. “Real blades. Unless you’re afraid.”
I stand slowly, letting my shadows curl around my ankles like restless smoke, some curling around Dimitri’s feet. “Lead the way.”
The training hall is vast, lit only by the moonlightthrough the narrow windows. Dust motes drift by in the still air, disturbed by the soft echo of our boots on the polished stone. Dimitri tosses me a slender, wickedly sharp sword, the balanceperfect.
We take our places at opposite ends of the sparring floor.
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Ready?”
I spin my sword once in my hand. “Always.”
The first clash rings out, the force shivering up my arms. My muscles remember this dance—how to match his speed, how to read the faint twitch of his wrist before he shifts direction. For a few minutes, it’s almost like the old days.
Kallan’s laughter echoes in my memory. Him leaning against a pillar, smiling when I would land a hit on Dimitri.
The memory hits harder than Dimitri’s next strike. My breath catches, and my guard falters for half a second.
“You’re distracted,” he says, circling me.
I steady my blade. “I was just remembering when this wasn’t a waste of time.”
His eyes narrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” I snap, steel ringing as I meet his next blow, “that it’s hard to spar with someone who helped lead the attack that killed the male I loved.”
Dimitri freezes mid-step, sword held low. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s what Iknow.”
His voice drops, quiet but sharp. “You’re wrong. I know you think I led the attack with my father, but that’s not what happened.”
I stare at him, my blade between us. “Don’t lie to me, Dimitri. You were there. After you swore to me, to Kallan, tomy father, that you wouldn’t get involved in the war.”
“I’m not lying.” He lowers his sword completely. “Ididn’t know about the attack until it was already happening. My father kept it from me. He was still angry that I refusedto fight in the war. When I found out, I ran. As fast as I could…ButI was too late.”
My heart thuds against my ribs. “Too late?”
“To stop it.” His gaze is steady, unflinching. “I reached the battlefield just as…just as Kallan fell.”
My grip falters. Memories blur.
His voice drops lower, something raw creeping into it. “You don’t remember what happened next, do you?”
I try to think back, but all I can remember is Kallan falling and me crying over him. I shake my head slowly.
“You didn’t see him coming…the one who killed Kallan. He tried to finish you while you were kneeling there.” Dimitri’s jaw tightens. “I killed him…and the others who came at you. My father’s men. My own soldiers.”
The hall suddenly feels colder, as if even the moon above has pulled its light away. I can’t find my voice.
