Chapter 8
?──── Kallan (Flashback) ────?
The sparring ring in the palace’s training yard is quiet. Morning light spills across the ground, catching on blades and the sheen of sweat across our skin.
I roll my shoulders as I circle Serenya, a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. “You're getting cocky, love.”
She twirls her blade and lifts her chin. “I’m getting better.”
“Oh, no doubt,” I say, dropping my eyes briefly to the elegant sway of her hips as she moves. “But don’t forget who taught you that move you love so much.”
She feints to the left, then strikes right. The edge of her blade catches the side of my ribs before I can dodge.
“That one?” she asks sweetly. “I think I improved it.”
I hiss a breath through my teeth and laugh. “You’re ruthless this morning.”
She is already coming at me again. Faster this time. I parry the first strike, dodge the second, but barely deflect the third.
She is dancing now. Light on her feet. Graceful. Deadly.
I decide to let her win. I could draw out the fight, but I don't . Because her eyes are sparkling, and the wind has caught strands of her hair, and her laughter is the kind of sound that makes me forget everything else.
She slams the pommel of her blade against my shoulder and sweeps my legs with the flat of it, sending me down onto the padded stone floor with a grunt.
She straddles me before I can move, blade resting against my throat—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to prove her point.
“Yield,” she says, chest rising and falling from exertion.
“Nah. I like it here,” I say, smirking up at her.
Serenya’s lips part slightly, a flush rising to her cheeks as she registers our position. But she doesn't move. Instead, she leans a little closer.
“You let me win.”
My voice drops, husky and low. “I love when you’re happy.”
Her expression falters, the challenge flickering into something softer and unspoken.
I reach up slowly, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “You’re terrifying when you fight, Renya.”
“Good,” she whispers, the edge of a smile curving her mouth. “Keeps you from getting too smug.”
Our lips almost meet, the moment suspended in time, before a voice echoes from across the training grounds.
“Princess!”
She groans and slides off of me in one graceful motion, standing quickly and trying to school her expression. I stay on the ground, hands folded behind my head.
The guard was too far to have seen anything. Hopefully .
“I win,” she says with a smirk as she extends a hand to help me up.
I take it, rising smoothly to my feet. “You always do.”