Major Ledor’s voice cut across the tension like a blade. “All guilds to the rings,” he barked, steel in every syllable. “No holds barred combat trials. Pair off by command.”
The murmur that followed wasn’t surprise, it was dread laced with readiness. Everyone knew what that meant—distractions. A show of strength. And a perfect excuse to air simmering grievances in plain sight.
Zander stepped forward, his expression unreadable as Kaler approached and pointed to the Crownwatch formation.
“You’ll spar with your former command,” Kaler said flatly.
Zander didn’t argue. He nodded once, curt and cold, before turning to me.Something else is going on,his voice threaded through my mind.This isn’t just a show. We should be speaking to Cyran.
I know,I thought back, watching the way Crownwatch shifted around him like circling wolves.We may need to go covert.
Tonight,he said.We move at midnight.
Agreed.
My name was called next. “Ashlyn Rebec,” Ledor intoned. “With Naia Brooks.”
Naia met my gaze from across the ring, her sandy-blond braid swaying as she stepped forward. She gave me a look—Let’s give them a show but not kill each other, yeah?—and I nodded.
We circled once, twice. Then I lunged, blade flashing, and Naia parried with ease, her energy sparking around her fingers like a barely restrained current. The clang of steel and crackle of redirected force echoed through the training arena. We twisted, ducked, blocked, sweat gathering but no bruises traded. A dance, not a duel. Sharp, but not bloody.
We were holding back. Both of us.
But across the ring… the same couldn’t be said for Ferrula and Armeda.
Their fight exploded like a storm.
Narvea roared as she landed near the perimeter. Ferrula launched forward, her movements pure instinct and lightning. Armeda met her with twin daggers drawn and the grin of someonethirstingfor a release. Sparks flew, literally, as Ferrula’s power snapped in sync with her strikes, every movement honed to a lethal edge. Armeda’s speed was nothingshort of stunning, weaving between strikes and countering with brutal efficiency.
It was chaos laced with skill.
Blades clashed. One of Armeda’s daggers grazed Ferrula’s shoulder, drawing blood, and Ferrula retaliated with a roundhouse that would’ve snapped a lesser fighter in half.
“Enough!” Jax stepped into the ring, hand raised between them.
Ferrula didn’t pause. She pivoted and slammed the hilt of her weapon into Armeda’s side, andthenturned her glare on Jax.
It was ice.
“Donotget between me and an opponent again,” she said, voice like a dagger’s whisper.
Jax raised his hands, stepping back. “Noted.”
But his eyes lingered on her. Worried. Protective.
Ferrula ignored him, adjusting her stance as if the hit never landed. Across from her, Armeda spit blood and smiled.
Whatever that was... it wasn’t just sparring.
I caught up to Ferrula just as she was cleaning the blood from her shoulder with the edge of her sleeve. Armeda was smirking in the background like she hadn’t just gone full feral mid-trial.
“What thehellwas that?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the sparring ring.
Ferrula didn’t answer. She just gave me a tight shrug, more tension than movement, before stalking toward the water barrels like she might throw one.
Riven stepped in beside me, arms crossed and red hair plastered to her face with sweat. “You missed the backstory,” she muttered, eyes locked on Armeda. “That wasn’t about pride. That was personal.”
I blinked. “Explain.”
