A large crowd of spectators and soldiers gathered in a circle around the sparring grounds. Between the bodies of the onlookers, I could make out two figures fighting. Every time their swords met, flashes of light soared heavenward, exploding like fireworks above the church.
I squirmed through the throng and made my way to the front. Whenever someone looked at me, annoyed, they'd quickly recoil and make room, lest they touch me. It seems "filthblood" was also a code name for "fast pass."
I immediately recognized Soltair as one of the contestants. His gilded sword danced gracefully around the battlefield, pressuring his opponent and deflecting attacks. The other contestant was a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair, probably in her early teens. Her lithe body and ample curves were easily seen through her revealing leather armor, giving her an alluring effect. She wielded curved short swords, constantly spinning them about and striking from unpredictable angles.
After a few clashes, it became apparent that Soltair was stronger, but the girl much faster. He spent most of the time on the defense, parrying beautifully but unable to land a decisive blow.
Soltair shouted and swung his sword, sending a beam of light out to strike the girl. Surprisingly, he didn't use a chant, nor could I see a magic circle. Crossing her swords, the blonde fighter blocked the attack. Using the force of the blow to flip back and gain some distance, her lips curved into a playful smile.
"You're not bad, hero, but can you handle this? Fire blades!"
She began chanting quickly, forming three circles of runes. A blistering heat surged outward as fire erupted from the magic circles, sheathing her swords in flames. Squinting against heat, Soltair raised his sword and braced himself.
The girl danced forward, elaborate ribbons of fire tracing her swords. The curling fire hung in the air before slowly dispersing, but by that time, she had arrived. Soltair shouted and brandished his sword, calling forth a brilliant aura of light. I barely caught a magic circle around him, but it vanished just as quickly.
When the two collided, flame mixed with sunlight and exploded upward, scorching the sky. My heart leaped in my throat as the magic consumed them, hiding even their silhouettes.
When the smoke cleared, I was stunned to see a massive starburst of scorched earth with them at the center. Despite the magnitude of the blast, both were relatively unharmed, although the girl was slightly worse off. Pale burns crawled up her arms, drawing a wince of pain from her otherwise flawless face. Looking spent, she sheathed her swords and fell back.
"I give, this time," she said, sounding dispirited.
Soltair sighed and returned his sword to its scabbard. "That one was close, Trithe. A little more, and you'd have had me."
"Don't be modest," she said coyly. "I know you're holding back. How else could you stand against the first prince?"
Relief filled me at their friendly banter. It was absurd to think anyone could have survived that heat, but there they were. Magic certainly was incredible.
"Soltair!" I cried, stepping toward him gingerly, cautious of the scorched ground. The heat was quickly fading, but the temperature still made me uncomfortable.
"Xiviyah?" What are you doing here?" he asked, looking pleasantly surprised to see me.
"Who's this?" Trithe asked, swiping her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as I grabbed Soltair's hand, looking at a small burn. "Get away from him, filthblood! How dare you soil the hero!"
I flinched and stepped back, dropping his hand. Her eyes glowed menacingly, filled with enough hostility to kill a dragon.
"Trithe," Soltair said with a frown. "This is my slave, Xiviyah."
"Not conquered enough, by the looks of it," she shot back, placing her hands on the hilts of her knives.
"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "She's a hero, like me."
"Get back to training!" Jordan's voice boomed, cutting through the tension. The surrounding crowds immediately dispersed although many cast longing looks behind at us, as though wanting to see more of the show.
The big man walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. "How'd the magic training go?"
Immediately, I brightened up. "Fantastic! There was this rude guy named Voric, but I even managed to cast a spell. Selena seemed pretty impressed."
"Not bad," he said, patting me on the back a few times.
Soltair's eyes sharpened. "Voric? What happened with him?"
"It's nothing much. Just a disagreement." There was no need to burden him with such a minor inconvenience. "Selena gave me a key to the library so I can learn a few spells later."
"Don't go too overboard," Jordan warned. "I just got used to the idea of having a Demonkin around."
"Thanks."
"You too?" Trithe asked, glaring at Jordan. "She's an enemy."
"Not yet," Jordan said, although something in his tone made me shiver. After seeing how much the soldiers respected him, I definitely didn't want him as a foe.
"Ignore her," Soltair whispered to me. "Trithe's got a bit of a history with Demonkin. Hopefully, she'll come around."
"Who is she?" I whispered back.
"One of the kingdom's prodigies. I've been training with her since arriving, so we've grown close. We usually spar a few times a week."
"And I'm currently ahead," Trithe snapped. "Hero, let's fight tomorrow."
"As you wish," he replied, smiling softly. "But don't expect me to go easy."
She turned with a huff, stalking away from us. After a few steps, she turned and glared at me. It was filled with anger, and… jealousy? It melted away the instant Soltair turned to look at her, replaced with a wave.
"Later."
"Are you ready to go?" Soltair asked me, ignoring her retreating back.
"Sure. What's next?"
He sighed, long and hard. "School. Well, basically. They're convinced I need to know every kingdom, noble, or even slightly influential merchant on the continent."
"Sounds boring," I said, but didn't mind. As long as we suffered together, I didn't care what happened.
Moving from one activity to another, the day came to an end. Although most of the tutors and priests were initially resistant to my presence, they reluctantly accepted me after Soltair threw his weight around. He had considerable influence around the lower clergy, almost on the level of worship. As night fell, we returned to his quarters. I was exhausted, but the excitement of casting magic still filled me.
Soltair dropped his sword and fell on the bed. I stood uncertainly by the door, not sure if I should close it. We were alone, after all. Although we were only 14, that was already past the marrying age in this world.
"Something wrong?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
"W-where am I supposed to stay? I don't really have anything, but I can't sleep here," I explained shyly.
He blinked a few times and suddenly stiffened. "Oh, yeah. There should be some servant's quarters around here, so you can have one of those rooms. Unless," he smiled jokingly, "you want to share my bed."
To be honest, I wouldn't really mind.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Nothing!" I blushed furiously. Why had I said that aloud?
Running out of the room, I found the servant's quarters and threw myself on the bed, praying he hadn't heard actually heard that. Still, a small part of me hoped he had. Maybe, someday… no, let's focus on the present for now.