Chapter 13
?──── Serenya ? ────?
“You’re still leaving your left side open,” I say, circling Koen. My boots thud against the packed dirt of the training yard, the sound almost lost beneath the rhythmic pounding of my heart. It always seems to beat harder than it should when I spar with him.
“I was letting you think that,” Koen mutters, his voice rough with exertion.
“Oh? A strategy based on pretending to be incompetent? Bold.” I tilt my head, watching the way his shoulders roll with tension. He’s getting stronger, faster than I’d expected, but still raw and unpolished.
He lunges—too predictable. I parry easily and let his own momentum betray him, stepping aside just enough to send him stumbling back.
“You call that a feint?” I say. “It seems you’re back to flailing.”
He scowls, jaw tight, and shoves a damp strand of hair off his forehead. There’s a streak of dirt along his temple, a testament to how many times he’s already hit the ground today. “Do you ever get tired of talking down to people?”
“Only when they don’t give me a reason to,” I shoot back, lifting my sword again. My shadows hum faintly beneath my skin, aching to join in, but I keep them contained. This is about skill, not magic. “Ready?”
“I was born ready.”
I arch a brow. “Now, that’s a lie.”
He comes at me again, faster this time. The first blow rattles up my arm, the second nearly slips past my guard, but I block them both. He ducks low under my third strike, twisting behind me. I pivot sharply, blade meeting his again in a sharp clash of steel against steel.
For a few heartbeats, we blur together. Strike, block, counter, duck. His movements aren’t elegant, not yet, but there’s something about his determination, the way he refuses to yield, that makes it harder to breathe.
He hesitates. Just a fraction of a breath, but enough.
I sweep low, hook his ankle, and send him crashing to the ground.
He lands flat on his back with a grunt, dust billowing up around him.
Before he can recover, I’m on him, my knee pressing into his side, blade lightly against his throat. Pinning him. Again.
His chest rises and falls beneath me, each breath quick and uneven. His gold eyes flick across my face, unreadable—except for the way, just for an instant, something falters in them. Something unguarded. It slips through before he quickly masks it.
My breath catches, a strange ache blooming behind my ribs. I freeze for a long moment, lost in his stare. The world falls away, and for a briefest second, I can’t remember why I’ve been trying so hard to hate him.
His eyes search mine. For what? I’m not sure. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, my magic stirs—restless, and my shadows, once again, try to reach for him.
I’m jolted back to the present. Holding my shadows back, I push off him before I can think too much about what just happened.
“I win. Again,” I say, breathless.
He mutters something under his breath, sitting up and brushing dirt from his shirt, his movements frustrated.
“Only because you cheat.”
I scoff. “I don’t cheat. I’m just better.”
He looks up at me then, eyes catching mine with a heat that makes my stomach twist. I have to force myself not to look away. I don’t want him to know how he is affecting me.
“One of these days, I’ll beat you, little shadow.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say lightly, though the words scrape in my throat. My chest is still too tight, and I hate that I feel it.
Before he can respond, a smooth voice cuts through the tension. “Am I interrupting something?”
Both of us turn. Asbel strolls across the training yard, all elegance in black and silver, an ornate sword at his hip.
Straightening, I lower my blade. “No interruption. We were just finishing.”
“Pity.” His eyes flick between Koen and me, a knowing glint in them. “It looked entertaining.”
Koen’s jaw tightens, the muscle twitching as he pointedly wipes his palms against his trousers.
Asbel offers me a slight bow, smooth and practiced. “Princess, I was wondering if I might request your insight on a few battle formations later. I’d value your expertise.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because Koen is still here, glaring. I hate that his presence makes me feel like I have to choose.
“I’ll think about it,” I say at last. “For now, I need a break.”
I turn, walking past both men without another word. When I glance back, just for a moment, Koen is still watching me. Not with hate. Not even frustration. With something that almost looks like longing. I quickly turn back around, heading for my safe space.
The wind tugs gently at the edges of my cloak, and the tall grass brushes my fingers as I walk. The sea of wildflowers bows and sways with each breeze. I drop to my knees in the middle of them, exhaling hard.
I only get a moment of peace before the wind changes. I hear the wings before I see them. That soft, leathery flutter that doesn’t belong to any bird in this realm.
You have to be kidding me.
I stand, my hand already tightening at my side and my shadows stirring faintly under my skin. I slowly turn toward the sound just as the bat dives down through the air, swift and silent.
It lands about ten steps from me, wings furling inward. The shape elongates, twisting, bones snapping, and limbs stretching. Until, with fluid grace, Dimitri is standing where the bat had been, brushing invisible dust from the sleeves of his tailored black coat.
“Really?” I say flatly. “A bat? You’re nothing if not theatrical.”
Dimitri gives me a mock bow. “You wound me, Princess. Would you prefer I rise from a coffin next time?”
I scowl and turn my back to him, striding further into the field, the blooms brushing against my knees. “I prefer for there to not be a next time.”
Gods, he is insufferable. Like a thorn that doesn’t quite bleed you, but refuses to be ignored.
“Did you come just to irritate me,” I mutter, “or is there an actual purpose to your dramatic entrance?”
“There’s always a purpose. You just don’t like hearing it.”
I face him again, crossing my arms. “Then say it and go.”
The moonlight catches on his pale blond hair as he studies me, his silver eyes looking strangely solemn. “Elowen is moving pieces again. Quiet ones. Dangerous ones. You know it.”
“I don’t know anything,” I snap. “You’re the one spinning riddles and showing up uninvited.”
“I’m not spinning riddles . I’m offering information,” he says, stepping closer.
My shadows surge at the movement, but he ignores them.
“A warning. Help. Because whether you like it or not, something is coming, and if we don’t find out exactly what it is and stop her, there may not be a kingdom left for you to rule. ”
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You expect me to believe you suddenly care about Syltheriel?”
“No,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I care about my kingdom. And I care about survival…your survival.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, the silence weighed down by old blood and even older grudges. The memory of Kallan’s still body flashes in my mind. The battlefield, t he stench of ash, his blood on my hands, and his name breaking in my throat.
My voice drops to a near whisper. “You think I’ve forgotten what you did to us? To him?”
Dimitri flinches. It’s subtle, but I catch it. For a heartbeat, I hate myself for the satisfaction it brings.
“No,” he says at last, his voice low , almost raw. “I don’t think you ever will.”
“Yet, you still want me to work with you?”
His eyes meet mine without malice. Without mockery.
“I’m not asking you to like me, Serenya,” he says. “I’m asking you to stop pretending you don’t feel it. That she’s not planning something dangerous.”
A long silence stretches between us.
“Have any of the champions shown signs they might not be who they say they are?” He asks like he already knows the answer.
“Listen, Dimitri, I have enough on my plate without adding paranoid vampire theories to it.”
He sighs softly, disappointed. “Then I hope your plate doesn’t shatter.” He takes a step back, preparing to shift.
“Dimitri.”
He pauses, one brow lifting in question.
“If you come again,” I say, “just vaelshad . Don’t come as a bat. I’ll set you on fire.”
His mouth curves into a slow grin. “There she is.”
With a rustle of wings and a flash of shadow, he’s gone.
I exhale slowly. The conversation pulled something loose in my chest that I’d rather have left buried.
I stand alone again in the quiet field, surrounded by nothing but flowers, unsure which threat I fear more: the vampire king with silver eyes, or the strange feeling that comes every time I think of the man who shouldn’t matter after such a short time, but somehow already does.
I sit slowly in the tall grass again and let my magic unfurl, humming gently beneath my skin. My shadows flow through the field and then come back, wrapping around me.
I smile, but it immediately drops as I think about what Dimitri said. I tell myself that he’s wrong. Wrong about Elowen. Wrong about me. Wrong about us needing each other.
I lie back in the grass and stare at the cloudy night sky, letting the ache in my chest settle somewhere deep, where no one can see.