Chapter 21 A Rival In Arms
A Rival In Arms
Kailorien buckled the final strap of his thigh guard with practiced ease, the metal ringing in the frigid morning. His mind raced with the day ahead—rotations to review, rift tremors to investigate, and patrol coverage thinning as more soldiers fell ill from the piercing moor winds.
He slipped on his undershirt and reached for his chest plate when he heard the soft pad of bare feet behind him.
“I want to help,” Auryn said, her voice still husky from sleep.
He turned. She stood there, braid tumbling over her shoulder, a flush of determined energy in her cheeks. She wore her traveling leathers and cloak, ready for what the day would bring. Her freckles were still dim. She hadn’t yet regained her full strength—but Void, she was testing her limits.
One of his brows lifted in amusement. “With what, starlight? Stealing my blade while my back’s turned?”
She smirked as she stepped closer. “With this.” She reached for a chest strap near his shoulder, fingers tugging the leather loop. She stretched, but couldn’t quite reach.
“But I don’t…understand how these work. They’re not like other armor straps.”
Not like Thessia’s.
She didn’t have to say it.
He heard the words clear as day.
Resh watched her fiddle with one of the clasps, his chest tight.
You still don’t know what you do to me. And I’m still too afraid to show you. Even after you’ve said you wouldn’t turn away from me, I still cannot believe that you will stay.
He took a breath, helpless to resist her when the expression on her face was so determined.
“You’re tugging at the decoy strap,” he murmured, voice dipping low as he leaned in, bending down. “Try just above your fingers.”
She stiffened as his breath teased against her ear. “That one?” she asked, trying again.
His hand covered hers, guiding it. “Mm. Close. But you’ll need to straddle the latch and loop it under. Like so.”
She finally found the correct placement and clicked it into place with a small, triumphant sound. Resh chuckled.
“You did well.”
She beamed—until she noticed the next buckle sat much higher on his chest. She reached for it. Couldn’t quite get there. He tilted his head, entirely too pleased. “Want me to bend down more for you?”
She huffed. “Kneel, Resh’Agar.”
He grinned now. “As you command.”
You’re the only one who could make this demand. Confounding, that I would kneel for you a thousand times when even my own kin cannot make me bend.
He dropped slowly to one knee. His gaze didn’t leave her face, even as she fumbled with the strap over his shoulder. He arched a brow—then tilted his head to offer the strap more clearly.
“Right hand here. Thumb under, palm flat. Pull slow—there’s tension on the reverse loop.”
She followed his guidance, fingers clumsy but determined.
“You’re twisting it again,” he said, catching her hand in his, kissing her knuckle.
“Stop distracting me,” she frowned, her voice airy.
“Not distracting,” he murmured, leaning in until his breath stirred the curve of her ear. “Instructing. Very…thoroughly.”
Her fingers fumbled. Again.
“Kailorien,” she whispered, exasperated.
“Yes?” His voice was lower now, rough velvet. “Should I show you slower?”
“I just need you to—”
He kissed her fingers.
“Kail…”
The way she said his name like that made him forget why he’d knelt in the first place.
“I can’t think when you do that.”
“Do what?” he asked, leaning in and brushing the tip of his nose against her ear.
She shot him a glare.
“Just—hold still,” she said, flustered, trying again. “Let me learn.”
He smiled then. Not smug. Not teasing.
Proud.
“You are learning,” he said. “Just fine.”
Together, their hands worked the strap until the buckle gave a satisfying click. She looked up, eyes bright despite the flush on her cheeks. He looked back—and for a moment, neither moved.
“Good,” he said, his voice low again. “You’d make a fine squire.”
“You’re tense,” she observed, brushing a dark strand of hair from his face. “You always get like this when you’re worried.”
“I am worried,” he replied, voice softer now. “Because every time I turn around, you and Thessia are off somewhere…pushing too hard.”
“She’s teaching me,” Auryn said defensively. “Daggers. Balance. How to keep my feet steady. You glare at me when I walk across camp, but she—”
“I know,” he said, rising again. Fully armored now. Towering. “I know she’s helping.”
He reached for her hands, folding them between his.
Auryn stiffened. He thought he felt her shiver.
“Are you cold?” he frowned.
“Not when I’m with you,” she whispered.
Then let me warm you. Here. Now. With my lips and my hands.
He steadied himself, pushing back his yearning.
If this continues, I’m never going to leave this Voids-damned tent.
How long have I been imagining kissing those lips for the first time? Touching her again like that one night?
But she’s recovering.
I can’t.
Not now.
“Please…” he sighed, “for my sake, will you be a good girl and not push yourself too hard today?”
Auryn shifted, her lips tugging to the side. “I have plans with Thessia.”
His jaw flexed, spine stiffening.
He tipped her chin up with his thumb.
“Lately,” he said, “that’s all you ever tell me.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer right away, just let his eyes search hers—seeking his own reflection there. Hoping he wouldn’t find another’s instead. Then he leaned forward, kissing her temple, her cheek, then the top of her head. A warm, full embrace he hoped would wrap around her like a shield.
Her fingers curled into his cloak. She leaned in, her breath catching as she murmured,
“Don’t…go yet. Not yet.”
He hugged her just a little harder, opened his mouth to say something—
And that was the moment the tent flap rustled.
Thessia stood in the entry dressed in full Riven Blade armor, arms crossed, her braids like whips slung over one shoulder. She didn’t speak. Just stood there, violet eyes sharp and unreadable. Her gaze saw everything and missed nothing.
A moment passed between them.
Unspoken, yet full of thick, charged tension.
Kailorien didn’t let go, pulling Auryn closer. One arm wrapped around her back, the other hand resting over her nape. His lips brushed the crown of her head again.
Then, and only then, did he lift his gaze to meet Thessia’s.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.
Just held Auryn tighter.
As if to say: She’s mine.
Thessia arched a brow.
Another beat.
She didn’t balk. Didn’t waver. Just assessed what was in front of her the same way she would have sized up an enemy before charging into battle. Then—hand on her hip, chin high—she let out a low, amused chuckle. She moved closer, every motion confident—assured.
“All right, little moonbeam,” she grinned, stepping fully into the tent like she owned the ground it was sitting on. “Are you ready?”
Resh didn’t release Auryn, even when she blinked and turned toward the sound of Thessia’s voice. Something in her relaxed immediately. That soft gleam in her eyes—one he’d only started seeing since she’d woken after the rift—lit up like sunlight catching on steel.
“Ready,” Auryn whispered.
Thessia held out a hand, palm tilted just so.
Auryn lifted hers and smacked it lightly—palm, then knuckles, then a twist of the fingers and a press of thumbs at the end. A ridiculous little thing they’d clearly practiced more than once.
Resh watched the whole thing.
Silent.
Seething.
Thessia didn’t spare him another glance.
She simply smirked. “Let’s go. We’ve got a world to set fire to.”
Auryn laughed—laughed—and that sound alone was enough to make Resh’s heart clench.
She looked up at him. “I’m going to go now. Please stop worrying so much. It makes lightning fall between your brows.”
Resh released her. “Remember what you promised,” he said. “No pushing.”
She nodded.
And as the two of them disappeared through the flap, talking already about balance drills and dagger forms, he was left standing there, the weight of her absence on his shoulders...
…and a growing, unfamiliar ache in his chest.
Not fear. Not anger.
Something worse.
Jealousy.
The day passed uneventfully, and after taking care of his duties and his men, Resh found himself straying to the edges of the training ring.
A cold breeze stirred the parchment maps laid across a rock table erected at its perimeter, held down with smaller stones to keep them from flapping in the wind.
Resh leaned over one of them, gauntlet off, blade in hand, methodically running a whetstone along its edge.
Occasionally, he augmented the blade with mana, sharpening and perfecting it using glyphs.
Zarrek approached from the side, placing a hand on Resh’s shoulder. But he didn’t look at either the maps or Resh’s blade.
Instead, he looked across the camp, to where Auryn was laughing.
Thessia had her by the waist, adjusting her stance as Auryn balanced awkwardly on a single flat stone. A dagger was in her off-hand. She concentrated on her task, but that didn’t stop her from grinning whenever Thessia said something low in her ear.
Resh saw it all, too. Had been seeing it all day.
Thought his teeth might crack from how hard he was gritting them together.
Zarrek made a thoughtful noise.
“If you’re bored of sharpening, you could always find something else to do. Unless you’re enjoying the view.”
The rasp of the whetstone halted.
Resh didn’t respond. He scratched at the newest callous on his palm. Not because it physically bothered him, but because it had become some kind of nervous tic over the last week.
Zarrek tilted his head, his golden eyes much too delighted. “You’re not being subtle.”
“She’s still recovering. Thess isn’t respecting that.”
“Mm. Yes. That’s clearly why you’re watching.” Zarrek’s tone was dry enough to parch the air. “Not because your favorite dagger is being stolen right out of your belt.”
Resh glared at him. “She’s not mine.”