The following hours were a blur of names, territories, and treaties. Elara addressed me with careful speech, never repeating herself once and never hesitating for me to get my breath. There was no room for mistake, no room for vagueness. When she finished, my head spun from the weight of noble names and courtly customs I would need to recall by heart. When she finally closed the folder and dismissed me, it was with a nod that was neither approval nor dismissal—merely the closing of a chapter. I stood, spine straight, despite the heaviness pressing at my shoulders, and offered my head the slightest incline in return. The lesson had ended. The test had only just begun. When I stepped back into the corridor, the day had long since turned to dusk. The torches along the walls had been lit, casting flickering shadows across the stone floor. Servants passed with bowed heads and quick, quiet steps, their pace speaking of evening rituals and supper preparations. I didn't stop them. I didn't need directions.I turned left toward the wing reserved for the royal family, though I didn't head straight to my chambers. My feet carried me elsewhere—down one corridor, then another—until the muffled sound of steel striking steel drew me closer. I followed the sound through a wide archway into the inner training yard. The air smelled faintly of sweat, steel, and the last fading heat of the sun. Lanterns had been hung from the posts ringing the yard, their glow washing the stone floor in flickering amber.Kael and Cassian moved into the center, too focused on each other to notice my approach. I remained along the edge, still cloaked in the shadows beyond the lanterns' reach, watching. They moved in tandem, blades flashing in rhythmic bursts—Cassian's style fluid and fast, filled with creativity and adaptability as he fought with a clear focus. He pressed Kael with honest effort, testing angles and speed, but even then, Kael's movements were tighter. Sharper. His footwork never faltered; his blade never wasted a motion. Every strike Kael delivered was precise and deliberate, and he parried only because he allowed it. There was no question who the better swordsman was, but Cassian made him work for it.Cassian didn't seem to mind. If anything, he leaned into the mismatch with smug delight, dancing just out of reach, taunting Kael with exaggerated footwork and cocky smirks. "Slower than usual today," he called during one particularly lazy parry. "Are the drills wearing you down, or is it your sparkling mood?" Kael didn't respond. If it bothered him, he didn't show it. But the next strike came faster, lower, enough to make Cassian grunt as he barely avoided the sweep. They didn't speak again. Not allowed. But their bodies did.Kael's shoulders bore tension like armor, taut and unyielding, while Cassian moved with calculated ease—challenging, yes, but not recklessly. It wasn't a duel. It was a rhythm they both knew by heart. And for all Cassian's provocation, he never pushed too far. Then, abruptly, Cassian's stance shifted. His head tilted slightly, and his next step took him closer to the edge of the sparring circle, gaze drifting toward the edge of the yard where I stood. His eyes caught mine through the lantern glow, and a knowing grin pulled at his mouth.He saw me.A flash of amusement crossed his face, subtle and quick, followed by the unmistakable arch of one brow. "Careful," he called, loud enough for Kael to hear. "We have an audience." Kael paused mid-motion, blade still half-raised. He followed Cassian's gaze, and his posture stiffened when he spotted me. I didn't move or look away. "Don't let me interrupt," I said, voice level as it echoed lightly over to them. Cassian grinned. "Not at all. I just thought Kael should know his wife is watching him get thoroughly outmaneuvered."Kael didn't speak, but the flick of his wrist that followed sent Cassian's blade flying from his hand with a clean, practiced twist. Cassian stared at his empty hand, brows raised. Then he barked a laugh. "Alright, that's fair. Though I'm blaming the distraction." He stooped to retrieve his weapon, casting me a sideways glance. "Is it a tradition for Crown Princesses to sneak up on sparring yards, or is that just you?" Before I could speak again, another voice broke the tension."Didn't expect to find someone so curious hovering by the edge." I turned. A young woman I didn't recognize stood a few paces away, arms folded across a crimson cloak. Her expression was amused, but her eyes were sharp, calculating in a way that reminded me of court, not the training yard. She didn't bow. "I wondered how long you'd linger there trying to look impressed," she said, her eyes flicking briefly from me to the sparring circle. "Though I suppose it must be hard not to be—when you're not from here."Kael's voice cut in before I could respond. "That's enough, Lyra." He stepped back from the sparring circle, his blade angled low, the lamplight glinting off the edge. His eyes cut to Lyra—not furious, but firm and utterly unamused. "She is your Crown Princess," he said, his voice quieter now but sharper for it. "You may not like it, but you will respect it."The yard went still. Cassian's grin faded, replaced by something more neutral as he sheathed his blade. He didn't intervene. Lyra held her ground, but her arms slowly lowered to her sides. She met Kael's gaze for a heartbeat, longer than necessary. Her expression didn't soften, but something shifted in her eyes. Something unmistakable. She looked at him like he was hers. Like he had always been. And then she turned to me. "My apologies," she said, with a chin dip—low enough to be passable but nowhere near deferent. "Your Highness."It was a performance, one I recognized from court back home. Just enough to avoid punishment. Just enough to claim innocence if challenged. But how she looked at Kael caught me off guard—soft, confident, and too familiar. Like she had once imagined a different ending to his story. And though I had no name for what I felt, it settled low and heavy in my chest, unwelcome and undeniable. She turned away first, but I couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't truly left anything behind. Kael stepped toward me, his expression unreadable now. "Would you like to return to our room?" he asked, voice low but steady. Not a command. A question meant only for me. Across the yard, Lyra made a face—small, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably sour. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her gaze flicked toward Kael with something too raw to be just irritation. It was jealousy veiled in pride and didn't fade even as she turned away. I looked away from her to Kael. Because looking at her any longer felt like pressing a bruise, I couldn't explain.Part of me wanted to pretend I hadn't noticed the look Lyra gave him, as if he was a wound she had never quite healed from. But I had seen. And I hated that it stayed with me. More than that, I hated the thought of turning my back and leaving him here with her. Not because I didn't trust him, but because I wasn't sure I trusted her. "Only if you come with me," I said quietly, holding his gaze. He blinked once like he hadn't expected me to ask. Like the thought hadn't occurred to him that I might want his presence, not just his permission. A flicker of surprise crossed his face—quiet but unmistakable. Then, something in him eased. He nodded. "Then let's go."
