"Elara is busy ensuring the stability of the realm. But I’d like nothing more than to go for a walk with you and my dear cousin."
FORTY
Eirabella
It’s pitch black.Not only because it’s night in the middle of the woods and the campfire is dying, but Rylan has decided to up the stakes of tonight’s training by tying a scarf around my eyes. The only sound is Rylan’s voice cutting through the darkness.
“Trust your instincts,” he says, his tone calm and steady, easing the panic rising in me. “When you can’t see, your other senses have to guide you. Close your eyes, if it helps to focus.”
I hesitate for a moment, then close them, gripping my staff. It’s quickly becoming my weapon of choice. The familiar feel of the smooth wood beneath my fingers grounds me, but the absence of sight makes my skin prickle. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, and the night around us seems too quiet.
"Don’t just wait for the signs of me attacking," Rylan’s voice comes from somewhere to my left. "Feel everything—where I am, where the air moves. Trust that."
I try to steady my breathing, focusing on the subtle sounds—the rustle of his clothes, the quiet shift of his boots against the ground. But before I can react, I feel his presence close to me. A finger traces the line of my jaw, and his lips brush against my ear, making me shiver.
“Too slow,Valora,” he whispers.
How did he get so close without me noticing?
I spin instinctively, but he’s already retreated, his laugh a soft rumble in the dark. My pulse races as I reset, clenching my staff tighter. I won’t let him catch me off guard again.
“You heard me coming,” Rylan continues, the sound of his movements moving further away from me. “Now, trust it. Don’t just react—anticipate.”
The world around me feels heavier, the night pressing in from all sides. My breathing steadies, and I focus on every detail—the slight breeze, the scent of dirt and pine, the sound of his movements across the ground. I hear him shift, just a hair to my right, and I swing my staff before he can reach me.
There’s a sharp crack as our weapons meet. I block his strike and thrust forward, keeping my balance just as Chasina taught me. I hear his feet spinning him out of reach, but I follow, pulling moisture from the air and swirling it around us in a disorienting fog. I don’t have to see him to know where he is—the water responds to my will, creating a veil that confuses his movements. If I can’t see, then he shouldn’t be able to either.
“Nice trick of yours,” he calls, though I can hear the grin in his voice.
I take a deep breath and focus on the elements around me again. Taking advantage of the cool moisture in the air, I conjure the mist around me again, feeling myself become one with it, as if it were nothing more, nothing less than an actual limb attached to me. I let it shift and shimmy until it becomes second nature to me, such that, the next time Rylan moves,stepping into my sphere, the mist moves as well, clinging to him. It pushes and pulls along with his body, and it feels almost intimate, almost as if he had brushed up against my skin.
This time, when he strikes, his staff is aimed at my side, but I’m ready. I block the blow, spinning to strike back. Our staffs collide with a crack, and the impact vibrates up my arms. He lunges at me, but I twist the water again, using it to sweep his legs out from under him. He stumbles but quickly finds his balance.
“Better,” he says, his voice approving, but he doesn’t let up.
He presses forward with a series of quick strikes, but I’m no longer just reacting. I’m anticipating, moving with purpose. I parry each strike, twisting the mist to my advantage, blinding him momentarily before stepping in more closely, our staffs clashing once again.
He tries to sweep my legs, but I leap over the strike, landing lightly and pushing forward. Water coils around me, giving me strength. I use it to create a thick shield around me, forcing him to strike harder if he wants to penetrate the wall, making his movements more pronounced and easier for me to anticipate.
Our sparring becomes faster, more intense. The air crackles between us as our staffs meet again and again, each of us testing the other. Finally, I twist around him, catching his wrist and locking his weapon. But in the same moment, he reverses his grip and brings his staff to my throat, just as I bring mine to his.
We stand there, panting, both of us poised, weapons at each other’s necks. A silent stalemate.
“You’re getting good,” his voice floats to me in the dark. “Who knows, I might actually try next time.”
“Your panting tells me we’re way beyond that,” I taunt.
Before I can say a word, he spins me around and pulls me hard against him, my back against his muscular chest. In the dark, every touch, every sound is enhanced and he’s even moredelicious to me than usual. He tips my chin up to lift my face to his, then his lips are warm against me. I instantly melt into him. For a moment, there’s nothing but the two of us, lost in the heat of the kiss and the quiet of the night.
When we finally pull apart, and he pulls the scarf from my eyes, the stars seem closer, and the world feels softer. Without a word, he takes my hand and leads me to the bedrolls, where we lay down under the same blanket, under the same vast night sky, the stars twinkling as if only for us.
FORTY-ONE
Rylan
“Do you have to marry soon?”
The question throws me completely by surprise. I blink and glance over at her sitting on a rock a few feet away from me on the river bank.
