Metheea looked around as she stepped into the combat class, something her mother would've never allowed if she had a say. And honestly, Metheea still didn't know how she have this in her syllubus.
She walked slowly, scanning the training yard, which was almost entirely filled with boys.
Hardly any girls signed up for combat. Most were sent to classes like painting, etiquette, basic diplomacy, or managing a household—subjects meant to prepare them for marriage.
Metheea didn't need to be here. Her plan was simple: finish her classes, leave the capital, and find work as a governess somewhere quiet. Quite different from her mother's plan to marry her off but she didn't care. She wanted peace and adventure. So, when she saw this course on her schedule, she got curious.
And the ability to be able to protect herself sounds good.
Her eyes went wide as one of the boys jumped from a block and landed on one foot, earning loud cheers from the others. She swallowed hard and started to wonder if she had made a mistake.
"Hey, Lisse."
She turned at the sound of her name. Erosian. Thank the heavens.
He stood a few steps away. His red hair shone in the sunlight, and his blue eyes looked brighter than usual. He wasn't wearing his usual formal clothes, just simple training gear, and somehow that made him seem more relaxed, more at ease.
"Hey," she said with a small smile, sighing in relief.
He gave her a quick grin. "You're actually taking this class?"
"I am," she said, though it didn't come out very confidently.
He noticed. "Don't worry. Some girls take it too. Kairis just hates getting dirty."
He nodded toward a group of girls standing off to the side looking at the chaos in the yard.
Then a voice boomed across the field.
"ASSEMBLE!"
Their conversation stopped as Erosian gently pulled her into the forming line. Students stood in rows, trying to look sharp. A stocky man with a bald head stepped forward.
"I'm Hanlo Arsemi, your instructor," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is Combat Class. You'll learn to protect yourselves. You'll learn how to fight. This is a beginner course, so easy you can finish it sleeping." He grinned, as if that was a private joke only he found funny.
"STAND TALL." He shouted making them stand straighter.
Another man walked onto the field.
He was taller than anyone else, and the moment he appeared, the energy shifted.
People whispered.
"The prince."
Metheea's chest tightened like something had clamped around her ribs. Her legs went unsteady beneath her, and for a second, she thought she might fall right there in front of everyone.
The man raised his hand, and everyone went quiet.
Hanlo spoke again. "You're standing before His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Arzayel of Katarthan. Descendant of the Flame Dragon. Heir to the throne."
Gasps spread across the line.
Metheea sucked in a breath. Her heart pounded in her ears as her mind tried to catch up with what she was seeing.
The prince stepped forward, calm and steady. "I'm here to welcome the future defenders of Katarthan. This kingdom will depend on you."
She didn't hear anything after that. The man who met her in the garden.
She knew who he was.
It was him. Her brother. The one she had never met.
After her mother fled Katarthan and her marriage to King HaseI IX had been erased, Metheea had only heard whispers about Arzayel. About how dangerous he was and how cruel the Katarthan royal family could be.
But he didn't look cruel. He looked calm. Almost kind.
Still, the moment she felt his eyes scan the row, she looked away.
Her mother's warnings echoed in her mind. No matter how kind he looked, she was a threat to him. A Dethrydian girl with dragon blood and someone who had a claim to the same throne.
Hanlo continued. "His Highness will lead a three-day training and assessment as part of our partnership with the palace."
The yard filled with cheers.
Metheea didn't move.
Three days.
That was too long and too risky. God, she regretted coming to this class. She could feel his gaze burning into her skin. A part of her wanted to look, wanted to really see the man she should be calling brother, but she was scared.
Scared of what she might see. Scared of what he might see in her.
Hanlo clapped his hands twice, loud and sharp. "Form up. Stretch positions, go."
The students broke formation and began spreading out across the field. Some dropped straight into lunges, others rolled their shoulders and shook out their arms.
Metheea went to the back, hiding between bodies, mimicking what the others were doing. Her limbs felt stiff, her thoughts still stuck on him.
She bent down, hands to her knees, then reached for her toes like the girl beside her. Every move felt heavier than it should.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. Arzayel stood near the edge of the yard, speaking quietly to Hanlo, but even then, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was aware of her.
"Keep those legs moving," Hanlo called out. "You'll need them today."
Then came the real hell.
The course was simple—on paper. Sprint the length of the yard, duck under the ropes, climb the wooden wall, and drop into a roll. Easy for the others. A nightmare for her.
By the end of it, Metheea was bent over in the corner, clutching her side and gasping for breath. Her lungs burned. Sweat stuck to her skin. She wanted to scream.
What kind of sick joke was this? She thought this class would be fun.
Erosian jogged over, barely winded, and crouched beside her. "You're wheezing already? And after all that stretching too. You sure you weren't napping during warm-up?"
"You think?" she snapped, glaring at him before quickly looking away. "Sorry. I… I shouldn't have taken this class."
Erosian chuckled under his breath. "No shame in regretting things. You're still standing, and that's more than most on their first day."
"Lisse."
She froze.
That voice didn't belong to Erosian.
She turned slowly. Arzayel stood beside her, not a foot away.
"I told you I'd find you," he said, lips curled into a smirk.
Her breath caught. Her heart stuttered. Every inch of her wanted to run, but she couldn't move.
Last night in the garden, she thought he was handsome. But now, in the daylight, he was something else entirely. Mesmerizing. From his slicked back black hair to the glowing amber-red eyes, the sharp nose, and the curve of his mouth.
"Too hot?" he said, tilting his head slightly. He winked.
She looked down, cheeks burning. She realized with a jolt that he was still flirting with her, her own brother. The casualness of it all devastated her.
Couldn't he feel it? The blood they shared, the pull that hummed beneath her skin? Couldn't he see past the illusion masking her identity?
She didn't even know what she wanted him to see but not like this.
"Your Highness," Erosian stepped in, his tone polite but rushed. "Long time no see."
Arzayel turned to him, eyes flicking with amusement. "Isn't she a bit tall for you, Erosian?"
Erosian's face went red as he quickly waved his hands. "She's a friend, Your Highness. Just a friend."
"Really?" Arzayel chuckled.
Metheea wanted to crawl into the ground and vanish. When she peeked at his face again, his chiseled features and the way his eyes glinted with amusement, she felt the heat rise up her neck.
Hanlo's voice rang out again. "Pair up! Quick spar, two rounds. Nothing serious. Just show me what you know."
Students scattered, calling out to each other. Erosian stood to offer Metheea a hand, but she was still frozen in place. She took a quick peek and saw Arzayel watching, his eyes fixed on Erosian's offered hand.
"Come on," Erosian said, gently tugging her to her feet. "You survived the course. This'll be easier." Then he gave a short bow toward the prince. "Your Highness. We'll take our leave."
Arzayel gave him a nod, his eyes sliding past him and back to her. "I'll let you go this time," he said softly, with a hint of something that made her chest tighten.
She lowered her gaze again, unsure.
They walked to the middle of the yard and took position across from each other. Erosian raised his hands in mock seriousness. "Try not to hurt me."
She exhaled through her nose and raised hers too. "No promises. I might hurt myself more."
Erosian chuckled. "How do you know Prince Arzayel?" They circled each other taking the stance they were taught.
She blinked, caught off guard. "Last night. In the garden. I didn't know he was the prince."
Erosian raised a brow. "Seriously?"
"How about you?" she asked, trying to shift the attention away from herself.
"Nobles," he said with a shrug. "Everyone in my family knows someone from the palace."
They squared off in the sparring circle, though neither of them moved with any real purpose. It wasn't a fight, it was barely practice cause they both knew she couldn't do much. Erosian lunged half-heartedly, and she responded with an awkward step and a weak block.
"You're terrifying," he said with a grin.
"Shut up," she muttered, breathless and trying not to laugh.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Arzayel watching.
Not smiling now.
Just watching.