Chapter 31
DAISY
The sound of steel rings through the indoor training arena.
We train in here more than the outdoor ring now, because last week I nearly set a training soldier alight when Maelkar pissed me off. We’re the only ones that train in here, since the outdoor arena is larger and has more space for our soldiers to practice.
My arms tremble with effort as I parry another vicious strike.
Sparks burst between our blades, skittering across the onyx floor like tiny, frantic stars.
My lungs are burning, and sweat sticks to my tunic at the back.
Every single muscle in my body throbs. I can feel the change in myself.
The strength building where there used to be softness, the way my arms hold a little steadier than they did weeks ago, the way my legs don’t buckle quite as quickly under pressure.
I had strength before, thanks to years of cheer that drilled discipline into my body, giving me balance, control, and endurance.
But this? This is something else entirely.
Maelkar doesn’t train me gently. He doesn’t ease me into it or let me recover when I falter. He pushes me harder than I ever would’ve pushed myself. Harder than anyone ever has. And my body is responding.
“Again,” Maelkar drawls, his shadow-wreathed sword bearing down against mine. “You’re thinking too much, princess.”
“I’m literally not thinking at all,” I grit out, pushing back. “That’s half the damn problem.”
He grins, all bright-white teeth and wicked delight. “Good. Stop fighting it. Let the anger drive your body. Your enemies won’t politely wait while you work through your feelings.”
“I don’t have any feelings,” I snap, twisting and ducking beneath his swing. “They’ve all made sure of that.”
His shadows lash at my ankles, tripping me half a step. I stumble, catch myself, and swing up with a snarl. Our swords collide again, my wrists ringing from the reverberations.
It’s been weeks since Aurora’s Veil. Weeks since Kaelith’s head hit the stone flooring with a sickening wet thud. Weeks since Selunea’s blue blood slicked my hands. Weeks since I stood under scalding water unable to feel anything but relief.
Since then, my days have been reduced to a rhythm: wake, eat, train until my arms shake, attend war meetings, pretend I’m fine, and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally drags me under like a riptide.
Sometimes, I need help from the alchemists, who gift me sleeping tonics to make my sleep dreamless.
I always wake feeling groggy, but it beats tossing and turning and seeing nothing but death in my nightmares.
I’ve even visited Vesindiyah a few times.
Although she doesn’t stay long, she often swoops down in the fields to give my hand a warm nudge.
Enough to say, ‘I’m still with you.’ The farmers have spoken about how the beasts now fly in formation a lot, practicing swooping and diving, as though Vesindiyah is staying true to her promise to be by my side when the war truly comes.
It’s been eerily quiet since Kaelith’s kidnapping.
No more attacks, no more spies. No reports from the other realms, either.
I’ve had several meetings with the realm leaders who all say nothing seems suspicious, but they have all upped their protection, each realm inside an impenetrable protective ward.
But we all know, when the Six strike, it won’t be at their doorstep.
It’ll be here. They’ll attack me and my kingdom, because I’m the one that started all of this.
Korithax always defied them, and so have I.
And I just know they have taken that personally enough to bring the war here.
I’ve been working with Elyistria, Velentha, and Sariya, trying to find a way to transport my people away from here and to other realms. But since the leyline collapsed, it’s been almost impossible to open another one.
I fear for them. The children especially.
They don’t deserve to have that level of destruction brought to their doors.
They’ve already seen too much after Cinderspine was attacked.
But unless we manage to find a way to teleport them out, they’re trapped, all thanks to that fucking curse on the Celestial Gates.
We’ve even discussed sending them to Earth, since Aran and Velentha can open portals there.
But there’s nowhere hundreds of demons could go and not be noticed.
No amount of reading in the Spires or grimoire-scouring is helping us find a way to get the people out, or to break the curse on The Gates.
“This is getting boring,” Maelkar sighs, lazily deflecting my next strike. “Hit me like you mean it, Daisy.”
My focus snaps back to the present. I’m sharper now.
Faster. My footwork is less pathetic, and I can block Maelkar nine times out of ten times when he tries sweeping my legs out.
I can even knock him back sometimes. But the more I improve with a blade, the more it feels like something inside of me is fraying.
“I am!” I snap.
“No,” he counters, shadows flaring around his boots as he circles me. “You’re hitting me like a pathetic queen worrying about consequences. Try hitting me like someone who’s already killed a gods’ favourite toy and stuck his head on a spike.”
“Former toy,” I growl, lunging at him.
He whistles low, deflecting my swipe. “There she is.”
Heat prickles beneath my skin. I think about Kaelith’s hands on me.
His voice, his lies. The feel of his blood spraying warmth across my arms when my sword finally took his head.
My grip tightens on the hilt, and when Maelkar lunges again, I move without thinking.
My body simply reacts. I pivot, duck, then twist inside his guard, and slam the hilt of my sword into his ribs hard enough to make him grunt.
He staggers back a step, shadows shuddering ever so slightly. “Better,” he concedes, lifting his shirt to reveal his toned onyx body beneath. “You almost bruised me. I’m so proud.”
“Fuck you,” I pant.
“Later.” He winks. Despite myself, a breath of laughter escapes me. The asshole always knows how to pull a laugh from me in the most ridiculous situations.
Above us, the balconies that look out over the training ring hums with quiet activity—a few guards pretending they aren’t watching the queen get her ass handed to her by the Shadowtongue.
I spot a flash of white and gold—Elyistria and Sariya conferring at the far end, their heads bent together.
They’ve been almost inseparable since this all began, only leaving each other’s sides to return to their own realms to ensure everything is running smoothly.
It’s clear they’re in a heated discussion about what’s to come. War. Always war.
Maelkar flicks his sword, drawing my attention back. “Again.”
We go for another round. My arms burn, my knees ache, and my magic is churning under my skin, restless and desperate for release.
We focus more on sword work than power since I’ve almost got that under control now.
It occasionally bursts from me when I’m having bad dreams, but now, when I call for my flame, it listens.
When I direct it, it follows. Swords however…
still not my strongest point. And I need to be strong in all aspects of war.
Because if my power reserve runs low, I need a backup.
Just as I go to swing my sword, Maelkar’s shadow lashes out faster than I can track in a violent strike, aimed directly at me.
Instinct takes over and my power surges, white fire erupting from my palm in a sharp, blinding flare as I slam it into the strike.
The impact jolts up my arm, heat and force colliding as I knock his shadows aside before they can wrap around me.
“What the hell?” I mutter, lowering my sword just enough to glare at him. He literally said we’re focusing on swords, yet here he is flinging shadows at me like we’re in a fucking magical death match.
“Good girl,” Maelkar purrs when I deflect three shadow-lashes in a row, his voice dripping in approval in a way that makes my stomach flip. “You’re finally starting to think and act like a weapon.”
“I thought it was swords only,” I pant, dragging my arm cross my brow to wipe away the sweat dripping into my eyes. And I thought you didn’t want me to fall apart?”
“Always gotta have the element of surprise,” he says simply, as if he didn’t just try to decapitate me with his sentient darkness. “And I don’t want you to fall apart. I want you honed, there’s a difference.”
Honed. Right. Because nothing says self-improvement like near-death experiences every five seconds.
We break apart, both breathing hard now. Sweat clings to every inch of my skin, my grip on the sword just a little less steady than I want it to be. Everything aches and my legs are threatening to stop working altogether.
I’m about to place my training sword back in the rack—finally, sweet relief within reach— when he smirks. Oh no. No, no no—
“Again.”
I roll my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of my skull.
Of course he fucking says that. Why would I ever get a break?
I go to move when the world shifts. It’s subtle at first. A strange, hollow tug in my chest, right behind my sternum.
Like someone plucked an invisible string inside me.
I freeze, goosebumps erupting all over my body as every nerve lights up at once.
Maelkar notices instantly. Because of course he does. “Daisy?”
I swallow, my sword dipping a fraction. There it is again. A pulse. It’s deep and familiar, hitting somewhere deep beneath my ribs. My breath catches, my vision blurring for a heartbeat. No. It’s not. It can’t be.
I shove it down. Absolutely not. Whatever it is, whatever my broken brain is trying to make me feel, I crush it. I can’t do this right now. Not in the middle of training with Maelkar while he’s actively trying to turn me into a weapon.
I raise my sword again, forcing my grip to be steady, and roll my aching shoulders. “I’m fine. Keep going.”