Think, Eira,think.
Brute force clearly isn’t working, and he knows all of my usual moves—he’d taught them to me, after all. I need something different—something unexpected.
And then it comes to me, remembering a time when I’d been playing with my father in the snow.
I stop attacking him directly, instead taking a moment to focus on the air around us. It’s humid, the remnants of my earlier water magic lingering in the air. I summon it, drawing in the moisture to use less of my dwindling magic reserves and subtly whisk it into a mist.
Rylan notices the change but doesn’t react yet. I keep focusing on the air, slowly turning the mist thicker. It wraps around us like a dense white fog, obscuring his view and mine. He tries to keep his eyes on me, but the veil grows heavier, making it harder to see.
“Trying to hide from me, disciple?” His voice sounds amused, but I can tell he’s getting cautious.
“Not hiding,” I reply, keeping my voice calm. “Just something to set the mood.”
Through the fog, I see him cautiously take a step forward, the mist curling around him like a cocoon, and that’s when I strike. I send out a silent, almost invisible stream of water through the mist, aiming not for his body, but his feet. He doesn’t see it, doesn’t know it’s coming, and by the time the water snakes around his boots, it’s too late.
With a flick of my wrist, the water freezes around his feet, locking him in place. Before he can free himself, I send out as strong a jet of water as I can conjure, hitting him square in the chest, knocking him backward.
I wave my hand, clearing the mist, revealing Rylan sprawled on the ground, his armour wet, and grinning.
“Well, would you look at that,” he says, laughing good-naturedly, “I definitely didn’t see that coming.”
I smirk down at him, breathing hard but triumphant. “That’s because you weren’t watching closely enough.”
I hold out my hand, and he grasps it as he gets to his feet. Once he’s upright, he tugs on my hand, pulling me in close and whispering against my ear, “Oh, I don’t think that anyone could ever accuse me of not watching you closely enough.” His voice drops to a timbre that is rough and smooth against my core both at once. “And if you were actually coming, let there be no doubt, there’s not a chance my eyes would be anywhere but locked on yours. Watching every needy little flicker in your eyes, the way your lips would part, the way your body would tense and then…melt…”
A delicious tingle spreads over every inch of my skin, as if he were tracing it with his fingertips. The things his voice and his words do to me. I scoff and push on his chest playfully, needing to put some space between us. What has gotten into him today? Sure, there’s always been an undercurrent of… flirtatiousness to our interactions, but to say some of the things outright that he’s said today? I’m not quite sure how to take them.
Rylan smirks, as if sensing his effect on me, and lowers his staff. “Okay, that’s enough for today,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“But—” I start to protest, but the exhaustion in my limbs and the heaviness in my chest stop me. He’s right—I’m tired, and pushing myself further won’t do me any good. It’s a reminder of how far I still have to go.
He must see the disappointment in my eyes because he squeezes my hand before letting it go. “Come on,” he says, hisvoice softening, “let’s take a walk. Don’t forget it’s just as important to cool down from your training and workouts as it is to warm up. Your magic is—”
“A muscle,” I mimic him, playfully. But then I gift him a smile, grateful for the uncharacteristic and seemingly endless patience during my burnout recovery, and follow him out of the training grounds.
As we walk side by side, the sun’s warmth gradually dries the remnants of our water battle from our skin. Rylan leads me patiently through our breathing exercises, his calm voice steadying my pulse. Our hands brush occasionally, sending sparks up my arm each time. I wonder if he feels it too, or if he even notices. After a while, though, he pulls his hand back, shoving it into the pocket of his leather training pants. The warmth of his presence feels a little further away, leaving me unsure of what to make of it.
Once he’s satisfied that I’m sufficiently cooled down, he bumps against me with his shoulder.
“So, I think you’re owed an answer to a question, if you can think of one,” he says, with a wink.
I glance up at him, trying to shake off the lingering sparks. “I think you know I have plenty of questions,” I tease as he leads us up a narrow stone staircase that spirals around one of the towers. “But let’s start with something simple.”
Rylan raises a brow, waiting.
“Do you often think about the current state of the kingdom? What do you want to change, to improve?” I ask.
His expression shifts, growing more thoughtful, more serious. “It’s all I think about,” he admits quietly. “And there’s so much that needs fixing. The borders need strengthening, trade routes need to be improved. The distribution of the Strength offerings. I don’t… well, I don’t know that they’re being used effectively. They are such a generous offering from the people that they should be used to their maximum value, to benefit everyone. And there are entire villages far from the capital that don’t have the resources they need. No one in this realm, under this rule, should ever be going hungry. I can’t envision a greater injustice, and yet, it still occurs.” He sounds haunted by that fact. “The people have to be taken care of, no matter how far they are from us. They’re no less important. Not to me.” His jaw tightens. “But I’m not the king.”
Well, it doesn't sound like King Halford’s son is a fan of his. Aside from that comment, I admire the weight of Rylan’s words, the care and thought in them. “How do you even manage all that? How do you prioritise everything that needs to be done?”
“I suppose it’s all about balance,” he says with a heavy sigh, as if he’s just imparted the secrets of the entire universe to me. “Which sounds easy, but is probably the hardest thing to achieve. You can’t focus on one thing and neglect another. Everything is connected—if the people aren’t happy, have their needs fulfilled, then it doesn’t matter how strong our borders are. But if trade fails, then everyone along the chain suffers.”
I nod, appreciating the concise way he explains it, feeling admiration bloom in my chest. He’s not just a prince in name; he’s proven time and again to be strong, skilled, intelligent, and he obviously genuinely cares about the kingdom and its people. “You’re really dedicated to it all, aren’t you?”
He shrugs, though there’s pride in his voice when he says, “It’s my duty. But more than that, it’s something I want to do right. I want to leave the kingdom better than I found it.”
“If you had to choose, would you pick being the crown prince, or Celestaris?”
