19. Evelyn
19
Evelyn
T he fresh morning air welcomed me as Rafe and I stepped into the snow-covered courtyard.
It had just snowed, leaving a pristine blanket of white.
The chill should have bothered me, but with my newfound connection to the elements, I barely felt it. I was wearing a new pair of leggings, a top, and a hoodie. I closed my eyes and concentrated, feeling the power coursing through me. With a simple gesture, I cleared a large patch of snow, leaving a perfect training ground for Rafe and me.
Rafe smiled at me. “It seems you’re mastering your powers rather fast. You’re truly impressive,” he remarked.
I grinned. “Let’s see how impressive I am with this sword.”
I swung the sword in the air, marveling at how natural it felt in my hand. A sense of purpose filled me, stronger than any I’d felt before. This wasn’t just a weapon; it was a part of my heritage like a piece of my soul that I hadn’t known was missing.
We started with the basics—stances, grips, and simple movements. Rafe moved with fluid grace, his every motion a perfect example of the techniques he was teaching me. His blond hair glinted in the sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with happiness; he was clearly in his element. It was nice to see this side of him. He seemed as content holding a sword as he was holding a paintbrush.
He was simply magnificent…and maybe a little distracting.
“Keep your grip firm but not too tight,” he instructed, adjusting my hand on the hilt. “You want to be able to respond quickly to your opponent’s movements.”
As soon as I mimicked Rafe’s demonstrations, something clicked. It was as if the sword knew what to do and how to do it, guiding me through each motion. Within minutes, I was moving with a fluidity that felt entirely natural.
Rafe paused, watching me with a mix of surprise and admiration. “You’re a quick learner.”
“It feels like I’ve done this before,” I admitted, slicing through the air effortlessly. The sword moved as an extension of myself, each swing powerful and precise.
Rafe crossed over to me. “You’re remarkable.”
He leaned forward and brushed a featherlight kiss across my forehead.
I raised my head to look at him, focusing on his lips. “W-what was that for?”
“For being a great student.”
I smiled. “Do you reward all your students with a kiss?”
He shook his head. “You’re my only student. And my kisses are only for you.”
My body heated with his words, coming alive and humming happily.
His fingers caressed a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Let’s carry on.”
I pouted, feeling disappointed that nothing else happened.
Then I remembered.
Ah! My husband and fated mate is Alister. Why do I keep forgetting that?
Not that we had kissed yet.
Why is this so freaking confusing?
“Earth to the moon,” Rafe said, poking his finger against my forehead. “Are you there?”
My lips curled into a smile as I focused on his face. “Just taking a breather.”
He stepped back. “Shall we continue with more advanced techniques?”
“Show me what you got?” I teased him, brushing aside the sudden heat and confusion that threatened to consume me.
We trained all morning, the hours slipping by unnoticed until our stomachs growled in unison. We paused for a quick bite—a sandwich made by Mrs. Cook, which is what I called her—before diving back into training.
By afternoon, our audience had grown. Chad, Ryker, Alister, and even Lucien gathered around to watch us spar.
“Are you sure? This isn’t just any sword,” he asked, holding his glowing blade.
I huffed dismissively. “Yes, of course. Piece of cake.”
But Rafe wasn’t convinced, so he got some wooden swords for us to spar with as practice.
This felt different.
I swung the sword with enthusiasm, but my lack of balance, which had mysteriously vanished during our morning training, was back with a vengeance. My foot caught on my other foot, and I went down hard, landing on my ass with a thud that echoed throughout my tailbone.
“Ugh, what the fudge?” I groaned, wincing as I tried to push myself up. The wooden sword slipped from my hand and almost gutted me as it fell to the ground.
Well, that was embarrassing!
Chad called out from the side. “I thought you were good at this?”
I ignored him as Rafe walked over and picked up my fallen sword with a frown. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” he suggested, holding out the wooden weapon.
I took it from him, but something didn’t feel right. The handle felt awkward and heavy in my grip.
Could it be the sword? Could my affinity be only activated when I use Calla’s sword?
I squared my shoulders and tried to focus.
“Ready?” Rafe asked, stepping back with a look of cautious optimism.
“Ready,” I replied, though my confidence was waning.
I lunged sideways, trying to avoid an easy strike from Rafe, and knocked myself on the head with my wooden blade.
“It’s getting worse,” Chad called out, not helping.
I huffed and threw the wooden sword away from me. Then grabbed Calla’s sword.
The moment my fingers curled around her sword, everything changed. The awkwardness vanished, replaced by a surge of power and confidence. I felt balanced and centered, as if the sword was an extension of my arm.
“Let’s try this again,” I said, a newfound determination in my voice.
Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded, readying his stance. This time, when he struck, I parried with ease. Our blades met with a satisfying clang, and I found myself moving instinctively, matching his every move.
“Holy shit,” Chad breathed from the sidelines.
I spun, ducked, and lunged, my movements fluid and precise. Rafe’s surprised expression quickly morphed into one of concentration as he realized this was no longer just practice.
I felt alive, exhilarated as if I’d been doing this my entire life. Each move felt natural, instinctive.
As our sparring intensified, I felt a warmth building inside me. It started in my chest and spread outward, tingling through my arms and legs.
Suddenly, my sword burst into flames.
I yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the weapon.
“Evelyn!” Rafe called out, concern etched on his face.
“I’m okay,” I assured him, marveling at the flames on my blade. “It seems my fire wants to join the party.”
Lucien stepped forward, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Fascinating. It feels like the sword is responding to your elemental abilities.”
I grinned, twirling the flaming sword experimentally. “This is so cool!”
Chad whooped from the sidelines. “That’s my girl! Show ‘em what you’ve got!”
I caught Ryker giving me a thumbs-up as I turned to them.
Emboldened by my new ability, I faced Rafe again. “Ready for round two?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Always.”
As we resumed our sparring, I felt more in control than ever. The flaming sword moved as if it had a mind of its own, anticipating my every thought. Rafe matched me blow for blow, but I could see the strain in his movements as he tried to avoid the flames.
We launched into our sparring session. My flaming sword clashed against his celestial blade in an explosion of sparks and light. Each strike felt like poetry in motion; we moved as if in perfect sync, testing each other’s limits.
The others stared in amazement from the sidelines—Chad’s jaw hanging open comically, while Ryker nodded in approval. Alister had a huge grin, a look of pride and awe on his face.
Rafe lunged forward, but I parried easily, countering with a swift slash that sent him back a step.
“Remarkable,” he conceded breathlessly. “I was the top student in my class and you almost bested me.”
I smirked, feeling powerful and alive in a way I hadn’t before. “And I’m just getting started.”
Chad whistled from the sidelines. “That was epic! You’re literally a warrior princess, little witch.” He grinned and then added, “What’s her name?”
I looked at my flaming sword, the embodiment of my newfound power and heritage. “Phoenix,” I said with a smile, glancing at Alister, who nodded.
It was the perfect name—powerful, mythical, and one that linked to Alister.