Chapter 14
The fencing room had always offered Alexander a kind of clarity that little else could provide.
There was comfort in the discipline and in the clean logic of attack and defense, and by the time sweat had begun to gather at the back of his neck, some of the restless agitation of recent days had dulled into something manageable.
That fragile sense of control shifted the moment the door opened. Alexander lowered his blade slightly as a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“I had begun to wonder whether you were avoiding me.”
Julian entered with effortless confidence, already dressed for fencing as though he had been invited. His usual ease filled the room immediately, bringing with it the same charm that had always drawn people in and irritated Alexander in equal measure.
“You rarely wonder quietly,” Alexander said.
Julian smiled as he shut the door behind him.
“And you are as welcoming as ever.”
Alexander watched him approach with narrowed focus. Something about Julian’s composure grated more sharply than usual. He seemed too relaxed, too amused, and far too comfortable in a house where Alexander increasingly felt there was little room for comfort at all.
Julian reached for a foil from the wall and tested its weight in his hand.
“It has been some time,” he said, turning back with a familiar grin. “I would love to train with you, unless married life has made you soft.”
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“Be careful.”
Julian’s smile widened, clearly pleased to have struck something.
“There is the Alexander that I remember.”
Alexander said nothing, though the irritation already simmering beneath his skin sharpened. Julian moved toward the center of the room and prepared himself.
Alexander ignored what he had thought; this was his friend, and they were going to enjoy themselves. He considered that his friend might genuinely have been concerned that he had changed since they had parted ways, and he did not hate that if it were the case.
“Come now,” Julian continued. “You look as though you have not slept properly in days.”
“That is none of your concern.”
“Nothing in this house appears to concern me lately, but perhaps it should.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Julian tilted his head slightly.
“Nothing at all. Shall we?”
Alexander raised his blade in response. They began, settling quickly into a familiar rhythm.
Steel met steel in sharp, clean strikes, each exchange deliberate.
Julian moved with smooth agility, his footwork light and deceptively effortless, while Alexander’s style remained sharper.
For several exchanges, neither gained any advantage.
Julian parried another strike and smirked.
“You are still predictable, I see.”
“And you are still arrogant.”
Their blades clashed again, and Julian stepped back lightly.
“You always did rely too much on force,” he smirked.
“And you rely too much on performance.”
Julian laughed softly.
“Performance wins attention, and you and I both know that I have always appreciated that.”
Alexander attacked harder. The shift was subtle at first, almost imperceptible to anyone unfamiliar with them, but both men felt it immediately.
The rhythm changed—precision sharpened into aggression, and their strikes came faster and harder, and each clash of steel rang louder through the enclosed room.
At last, Julian’s smile began to fade.
“Alexander,” he said, blocking another blow, “this is beginning to feel personal.”
“It should not,” Alexander replied coldly.
“And yet it does.”
Steel collided again, harder than before. Julian narrowed his eyes as he adjusted his footing.
“What exactly are we doing?”
Alexander advanced without answering. The aggression had fully surfaced, no longer restrained beneath his discipline.
Each strike carried more force than necessary, and the control that usually governed Alexander’s movements had begun to fray.
Irritation had become anger, and anger had sharpened into something dangerously close to violence.
Julian’s expression hardened in response.
“That is quite enough,” he snapped.
But Alexander ignored him. Their blades crossed again with brutal force, and in the next instant Alexander drove forward with speed and power that pushed well beyond the boundaries of sport.
Julian barely managed to evade in time, twisting sharply as Alexander’s blade came dangerously close to his throat. The distance between steel and skin was alarmingly narrow.
Silence crashed into the room as both men froze. Julian stared at him, breathing harder, every trace of amusement gone from his face. Alexander remained motionless as well, his own breath tight in his chest while the reality of what had nearly happened settled between them with unmistakable weight.
Whatever it had been, it was no longer sparring. Neither moved for several long moments after the near strike. Julian was the first to recover, though the tension in his body remained visible beneath the ease he usually wore so effortlessly.
He lowered his blade slowly, his gaze fixed on Alexander with a sharpness that had entirely replaced his earlier amusement. Whatever playfulness had existed between them at the start of the match had vanished.
“Well,” Julian said after a moment, his breathing still uneven, “that was enlightening.”
Alexander said nothing. His grip on the foil remained tight, though reason had already begun forcing itself back into place.
The adrenaline that had driven him forward still pulsed through him, but it carried something colder with it. The full reality of what had nearly happened settled heavily in his chest, but Julian’s expression suggested he was far more interested in what had caused it.
A slow smile began to return to Julian’s face, only it no longer held warmth.
“I had expected marriage to improve your temperament,” Julian said lightly. “Though perhaps loveless marriages do little to calm a man’s disposition.”
Alexander’s gaze hardened at once.
“What did you say?”
Julian tilted his head, his expression maddeningly calm.
“You heard me.”
The air between them sharpened again.
Alexander knew Julian well enough to recognize the deliberate provocation. It was not a stray remark thrown in irritation. Julian had chosen those words carefully, and the certainty of that realization sent a chill through Alexander’s chest. His voice dropped lower.
“Be careful.”
Julian’s smile remained infuriatingly steady.
“Why? Have I touched a nerve?”
Alexander said nothing, but his silence carried its own warning.
His thoughts began shifting into place with unnerving speed; Eleanor’s discomfort in Julian’s presence, Julian’s easy confidence whenever her name surfaced, and the strange familiarity that had sat beneath several interactions without fully drawing his attention until that moment.
Julian saw the shift happen, and the satisfaction in his eyes deepened.
“Ah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You are beginning to understand.”
Alexander’s pulse pounded heavily as anger traveled through him.
“Understand what?”
Julian exhaled a soft laugh and began pacing slowly, his foil hanging loose at his side. His composure had fully returned, and there was something deeply unsettling about how comfortable he appeared.
“You truly did not know,” he said. “That is almost embarrassing.”
“Speak plainly.”
Julian glanced at him with a sly grin that Alexander instantly hated.
“Eleanor and I were acquainted rather well before your marriage.”
The words struck harder than Alexander expected. His chest tightened sharply, though he gave no visible reaction beyond the slight hardening of his jaw. Julian, of course, noticed even that.
“She always loved the gardens,” Julian continued. “She enjoyed walking there. We spent a fair amount of time among flowers and hedges, if memory serves.”
Alexander’s hand tightened painfully around the hilt of the foil. Julian’s grin widened.
“She was far less guarded then,” he said. “Quite different from the woman residing here now.”
Alexander remained silent, but something inside him had become dangerously unstable. The meaning in Julian’s words was unmistakable. There had been something between them, something real enough for Julian to weaponize, and something Eleanor had never spoken of.
Jealousy struck him. The emotion was immediate, sharp, and deeply unwelcome. It burned through him before he could contain it, carrying with it a hurt that he could not ignore. The thought of Julian beside Eleanor in the gardens twisted sharply in his chest.
He imagined Julian hearing the softness in her laughter, seeing the warmth in her smile, witnessing parts of her Alexander himself had barely glimpsed. The image settled into his mind, and what unsettled him most was how deeply the thought wounded him.
Julian watched him, practically gleaming with amusement as he studied every flicker of tension crossing Alexander’s face.
He watched him for a long moment with a quiet satisfaction that sat uneasily in the space between them, as though he were studying the exact point at which his composure might finally begin to fracture.
Then Julian gave a low laugh, shaking his head as if he were amused by the entire situation.
“Do not look at me as though I have confessed some great crime,” he said, the tone deliberately light. “You make far too much of things, Your Grace.”
Alexander did not respond, though his grip on the foil remained unchanged. Julian adjusted his stance, resting the blade loosely at his side as he continued speaking with infuriating ease.
“There was nothing in it worth such severity. We were acquainted, yes, and we spent time together in the ordinary sense that people do when circumstances place them in the same vicinity. There were conversations, walks through the grounds, but nothing more substantial than that.”
His words were almost dismissive, as though he were describing something so insignificant it hardly warranted recollection.