"Do you need anything else?" Evan asked Davina as he rubbed some ointment on her bruised arm.
"I don't need anything else, thank you, Evan."
"My pleasure... I have to admit, your arms are quite small." Evan weighed Davina's thin arm, comparing it to his.
"I guess you could say that."
"Oh, forgive me. I didn't mean it negatively, sorry if I offended you." Evan quickly apologized, guilt written over his now pale face.
Davina let out a chuckle watching how panicked Evan was. "You don't have to apologize, Evan, I know you mean well." She reassured him.
An awkward silence fell over the garden, leaving both of them unsure of what to say to the other. Although Davina desired to grow close to Evan as soon as possible, she knew she shouldn't rush it.
"Mind if I ask why you wanted to become a soldier?" Evan broke the silence. He had announced his reason to everyone else, courtesy of Sir Martius, but being there, he had no idea of anyone else's dreams and reasons.
"It might be selfish of me, but..." Davina started, "I joined to become stronger. My physical appearance is too weak and sickly for a man, and I felt that the best way to improve myself was to join the royal army." She lied through her teeth; it always did come naturally to her.
"That wasn't a selfish reason." Evan gave her a slight shoulder nudge, his attempt at cheering her up.
"Compared to everyone else's, including yours, my reason for being here seems insignificant," she said. That wasn't a lie. Although the story she initially told him was fabricated, Davina did feel like her real reason for being there was insignificant and selfish.
In comparison to Evan who was like a saint, training to raise money for his sick mother, Davina felt guilty for her reason, she felt like a lying piece of trash.
As if reading her mind, Evan said, "We're all responsible for ourselves Dimitri, so never feel guilty about that."
"You didn't strike me as the motivational type." Davina joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I'm full of surprises." Evan shrugged.
Smiling, Davina stood up from the bench they were sitting on. "I enjoyed chatting with you today, Evan."
"As did I."
"You should go have dinner before it's too late, I'll be there in a bit."
"See you later." With that, Evan made his way back to the base, leaving Davina behind to wander in the garden.
That night, Davina decided to skip dinner. She was in too much of a weak state to stomach any food, much less the mashed potatoes served at the dining hall.
With plenty of spare time, she decided to return to the training court for some solitude. Being surrounded by fresh flowers was not her idea of fun.
The closer she got to the court, the more she heard the clashing of swords. "Who could be here at this hour?" She wondered.
By this time, Davina was already feeling discouraged. What was the point of going to the court for some alone time if she wouldn't be alone? Despite her feelings, she still decided to see who was training in the dead of night.
She concealed herself behind the pillar, observing the lone man with keen interest. Davina had expected to see a pair of individuals engaged in swordplay or perhaps a duel, yet she was surprised to discover a solitary figure honing his skills with the swift, precise movements of two gleaming daggers in his hands.
His every motion was executed with such sharpness and precision, as if he were effortlessly slicing through the air itself. It almost seemed as if he was engaged in a graceful dance with the wind, rather than honing his skills with deadly, razor-sharp daggers – each one as cutting as her words.
Davina was barely able to withhold her applause for the man, feeling as if she were a spectator at a captivating performance. Never before had she been so utterly captivated, feeling breathless as she watched him but there she stood, completely entranced by a man whose features were barely discernible in the cover of night.
His outline resembled a masterpiece crafted by a divine artist; a masterpiece created with precision, dedication, and perseverance; One crafted by the gods.
He looked like a man who would win a war by commanding the enemies to bow before him and not by battling it out on the fields.
Lost in her thoughts, Davina failed to notice when the man stopped training and turned to look in her direction.
"Show yourself."
The hair on the back of her neck stood up the second she heard his voice. He didn't sound human; his voice had a compelling, melodic tone as if it was specially tailored to make anyone who heard it do the man's every bidding.
Davina found herself on the verge of moving her feet, taking one step after the other toward him until she was at his mercy.
"I said, 'Show yourself,'" the man's voice was laced with authority. He sounded soft-spoken, smooth, and as gentle as velvet, yet an underlying iciness tinged his tone.
Before she could think, Davina's body moved on its own. It was as if the man was a magnet pulling her in his direction.
"What do we have here?" The man tilted his head cockily as he looked down at Davina who was now shaking in her boots at the sight of him.