61. Chapter 61 #2
Kaelin held Ren close, her magic finally releasing her, as she rode out the waves of ecstasy, her touch gentle and soothing. When Ren finally stilled, Kaelin crawled up her body to capture her lips in a searing kiss.
The next morning, Ren had barely finished her breakfast when Talen brushed past her with a clipped, solemn command, “Come. Let’s see what you’ve learned. ”
He left no room for refusal.
She wiped her fingers on her trousers and slid off the bench, trailing behind him with cautious steps. He had said little since she’d left the infirmary, but she felt his presence regardless – felt his eyes on her whenever she entered a room.
Was it because she was entangled with his sister or because he suspected something else entirely, something darker?
Ren wasn’t sure which was worse.
They reached the sparring pit, its packed dirt floor darkened by morning dew. The faint clang of steel rang from the armory, but otherwise the grounds were nearly empty. Only a female fae soldier jogged lazy laps along the perimeter, leaving Ren and Talen in a circle of open silence.
Without a word, Talen grabbed his blade from the rack and tossed hers across the distance. Ren caught it by reflex, the weight settling into her palms with grim familiarity. She pressed her lips thin, rolling her shoulders.
They circled each other.
Ren shifted her stance, grounding herself the way she remembered from the pits—weight on the balls of her feet, arms loose but ready, blade angled just enough to guard her center.
Talen, for his part, moved smoothly, his blade held with casual elegance that betrayed just how easily he could cut her down.
The first clash came suddenly. Talen lunged, steel meeting steel with a bright ring that jolted her bones. Ren staggered but recovered, teeth bared in concentration. She swung back, clumsy but quick. He parried without effort, twisting his wrist so her blade glanced harmlessly aside.
“Still too slow,” he muttered.
Ren came at him again. Blow after blow rang through the pit, her strikes fueled by stubbornness more than skill. Talen blocked each one, sometimes not even bothering to shift his stance. His eyes narrowed, not with pity or patience, but with scrutiny.
Sweat slicked her brow, dripping into her eyes as she swung again. This time, Talen struck back with force. His blade drove into hers, the vibration rattling her teeth. His movements grew sharper, his voice turning clipped.
“Balance,” he barked as she stumbled .
“Guard higher.”
“Again.”
She obeyed, panting, every strike heavier than the last, though her arms screamed in protest. He pressed her harder, footwork tight, blade snapping in a rhythm that left her breathless.
And then—
It slipped.
It was just a flicker, a spark. The heat in her veins surged at the wrong moment, bursting out in a flare that danced along the edge of her blade before vanishing.
Talen froze. His boots ground against the dirt as he stepped back, his hand instinctively raising his blade not as a sparring partner, but as a fae warrior before a threat. “Watch yourself,” he warned, his voice calm, too calm. The kind of calm that masked unease.
Ren lowered her blade. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words refused her.
Talen’s gaze bored into her, hard as iron.
His grip flexed once on the hilt of his blade, then slowly released.
“You need to understand,” he continued, quieter now, “I can’t protect you if you’re going to be reckless.
Next time, there may be others watching.
” His eyes darkened. “And they may not be so forgiving.”
The air between them thickened with silence, punctuated only by Ren’s harsh breathing and the distant patter of the jogger’s feet circling the pit.
Ren knew he was right, and yet she hated the reminder that no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much she survived, one wrong spark could cost her everything.
Ren exhaled, lowering her blade and steadying her trembling arms. “I’ll train harder,” she managed. “I swear it.”
Talen gave no answer, only looked away, as though the ground itself offered more comfort than her promise.
“Why have you been watching me so suspiciously?”
His head snapped up, emerald eyes narrowing. For a moment, she thought he might snap at her. Instead, he turned slightly, as if to call the session done .
“No.” Ren stepped forward, blocking his path, her sword tip sinking into the dirt. “Don’t brush me off. Not when it’s clear you’ve already decided I can’t be trusted.”
“Ren – ”
“You were the first one here I trusted,” she blurted. Her chest heaved as the words tumbled out, the kind she hadn’t meant to give voice to. “And now I feel like I’ve lost that. Like I’ve lost you. And I hate that I made you doubt me.”
For a long, heavy silence, Talen’s face betrayed nothing.
Then, at last, his features softened. His voice dropped low, resigned.
“It’s not doubt, Ren.” He hesitated, eyes flicking away before returning to hers.
“That day, when you burned through that village like it was paper—it wasn’t just flame.
Something else seemed to take hold of you.
Something… unworldly.” His mouth pressed into a thin line.
“And if it takes you again, I don’t know what can stop you. I don’t know if anyone could.”
Ren’s stomach turned cold. He was afraid of her. The words hit harder than any strike he had landed that morning.
For a heartbeat, she wanted to flinch away, to swallow it down and let silence cover the wound. But something in her rebelled, burned hotter than shame.
She lifted her chin.
“You know me, Talen. You’ve watched me fight, watched me bleed beside you.
I will do whatever it takes to control this, whatever it is.
I won’t let it hurt anyone. That’s the last thing I want.
” Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword until her knuckles whitened.
“But I need you to believe me. If I lose your trust now, then what’s left? ”
Talen’s gaze flicked over her face, searching for cracks in her conviction. The hard set of his mouth didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted, conflicted. “Gods help me, Ren… I want to believe you. I really do. But there’s so much we don’t understand.”
Ren held his gaze, refusing to let him see how much the words hurt.
Without another word, she turned her blade point-down and drove it into the packed earth between them.
The steel rang with finality as she sank to one knee, her head bowed and voice steady.
“I give you my word that I will master this power. I will not let it harm those I fight beside. On my life, I swear it. ”
When Ren lifted her gaze, Talen stood frozen, his eyes wide with something close to shock.
In Vaelaran culture, an oath sealed in steel and earth was a vow that could not be taken back without dishonor.
To betray it was to invite a fate worse than exile: one was expected to take up their own blade, cut themselves open, and bleed onto the earth as payment for their broken word.
Talen’s jaw worked, a flicker of conflict crossing his face before he inclined his head. “I accept your oath.”
Ren’s heart pounded, but she held still, waiting for him to dismiss her, to turn away. Instead, he lingered a beat longer, studying her as if trying to see through her skin to whatever truth lay buried beneath.
Finally, he spoke again. “There’s one last creature. More dangerous than the rest. I’m still gathering word of its whereabouts. When the time comes, we’ll face it together. And then you’ll receive your final payment.”
And with that, he turned, striding from the pit, his cloak snapping in the breeze.
Ren stayed kneeling a moment longer, her sword still anchored in the dirt, before rising slowly. Her palm pressed against the hilt, her vow thrumming in her bones.
Whatever came next, she would be ready.