Chapter 14 Rhianelle #3
Hrolf watches my feet rather than the sword. “Your balance is good, but you’re leaving your right side open. Against someone taller, they’ll use their reach and strike before you can close the distance.”
I repeat the movement. This time, the turn feels faster and more controlled.
“Much better.” Hrolf glances toward Arescaine, who remains beside the workbench. “Vampire.”
Arescaine lifts an eyebrow.
Hrolf tosses him a practice sword and he catches it neatly by the grip. “Spar with her.”
Arescaine looks at the sword in his hand, then at me. Something careful moves across his face. “Is that necessary?”
“I want to see how she moves against someone who knows what he’s doing,” Hrolf insists.
Arescaine does not answer. He turns the practice sword once in his hand, testing its weight, but makes no move toward me.
I wait.
The longer he hesitates, the clearer it becomes.
He does not think I am a match for him.
I have spent years being protected, watched over and underestimated. I do not need him doing the same.
“Do you think I cannot handle myself?” I ask.
His eyes lift to mine. “I know better than to think that.”
I give him a hard look. “Then stop looking at me as though Hrolf asked you to spar with a child.”
Something shifts in his expression.
I tighten my grip on Starfall and raise my chin. “Are you afraid I’ll damage your pride?”
A breath leaves him, slow and resigned. He steps into the open space across from me. The playfulness leaves his face. What replaces it is calm, focused, and far more dangerous than anything I've seen from him at the war table. He raises the practice sword between us.
“Whenever you're ready, Your Highness,” he says.
A challenge glints beneath the formality. It feels dangerously close to a dare. I set my jaw and lift Starfall between us.
The moment Hrolf signals us to begin, I expect him to go easy.
He doesn’t.
His blade catches mine and twists. It happens so fast I barely see it. One moment I’m raising the blade and the next the sword is gone from my hand and I’m stumbling back against the wall, his forearm across my chest, his face six inches from mine.
The Starfall sword strikes the floor with a clang.
I stare at it.
Arescaine lowers his weapon. “Again?”
“You took me by surprise,” I mutter begrudgingly.
Hrolf bursts into laughter. “An opponent rarely warns you before attacking.”
I retrieve the sword, heat climbing into my face. “Again.”
This time, I am ready.
Our blades meet with a sharp ring. I block his first strike and duck beneath the second, stepping inside his reach. For one glorious moment, I think I have him.
Then Arescaine pivots.
My back meets the forge wall. His practice sword rests beneath my chin, and his body blocks every path of escape. He is close enough that I can feel the heat coming from him.
Coral growls from beside the water barrel.
Arescaine glances toward her. “I win again.”
“No, you don’t.”
His eyes return to mine.
I raise my free hand. The small dagger from my belt is pressed against the inside of his thigh, just beneath the edge of his coat.
A beat of silence. Then Hrolf lets out a laugh that fills the entire forge. “She got you good, vampire.”
Arescaine looks down at the dagger, then slowly back at me. Something dangerously amused enters his eyes.
“A draw,” he says.
“I prefer victory.” I press the dagger lightly against his breeches to make my point.
He steps back and allows me to lower the blade. The strange closeness of the moment lingers even after the space opens between us.
Hrolf takes the sword from me and examines the edge for damage. “You’ve got good instincts for an elf. Natural balance, too. That’ll serve you well.”
For a moment, the scene feels familiar. This sword practice. I almost remember another lesson, another lifetime.
Pain presses briefly behind my eyes. I shake my head, and the feeling disappears.
Hrolf returns the sword to me, then begins collecting the tools scattered across the workbench.
Arescaine moves to help him.
“Thank you. For the sword and helping with the brace designs,” he says to Hrolf.
“Thank me by making sure that little wyvern can fly properly.” Hrolf gestures toward Coral, who answers with a sleepy chirp.
The sword is for me. Why is Arescaine thanking him as though the gift means something to him too?
Hrolf collects his leather bag of tools and his water flask. “I’ve got business with the guards outside.”
He pauses at the door, looking back at me. “Your Highness. It was an honor.”
“The honor was mine, Master Hrolf.” I incline my head to him.
He snorts and shakes his head, then disappears through the doorway, his heavy footsteps fading into the sounds of the city.
I’m alone with Arescaine. The forge suddenly feels smaller and intimate. Coral is dozing in her corner, exhausted from her flight attempt. Somewhere outside, a bird sings.
Arescaine has already returned to the wing braces, laying them out on the workbench. He’s examining the device while making notes on a piece of parchment.
I should leave. The beautiful sword in my hands is reason enough. I should practice with it and return to my duties.
Landon may still be away, but the golden string remains warm inside me. It is a constant reminder of the life waiting beyond this forge.
Instead, I find myself walking closer to the workbench, closer to Arescaine.
“What needs to be fixed?” I ask, setting the sword carefully aside.