Eira sat at her vanity, brushing her hair as the low candlelight flickered in the mirror. The castle was quieter than usual, the deep silence pressing against her like a heavy cloak. It had taken weeks to adjust to the strange rhythms of this place—the way the nights stretched endlessly and the days passed like fleeting shadows.
A knock startled her, sharp and impatient, echoing through the room. Her pulse quickened, irritation flaring. No one came to her quarters unannounced unless it was urgent—or Caius.
Before she could respond, the door swung open.
Caius stepped inside, his movements deliberate, fluid—like a predator claiming its space. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, his golden eyes sweeping the room before landing on her.
Eira's grip tightened on the brush. His gaze pinned her in place, its weight as tangible as his presence. "Does the concept of privacy not mean anything?" she snapped, setting the brush down with more force than necessary.
"Not for us," he said simply, his tone maddeningly calm. He took another step forward, his figure imposing even in the dim light. "Get dressed."
Eira blinked, thrown by his abruptness. "Excuse me?"
"You're training tonight," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Be ready in five minutes."
Her mouth fell open. "Training?"
"Yes, training." His voice remained steady, almost bored, but the weight behind it left no room for argument. "You've had enough time to settle in. Now it's time to learn how to defend yourself."
Eira scoffed, standing and crossing her arms. "What makes you think I need training?"
His lips curved into a faint, humorless smirk. "Because your stubbornness won't protect you. If anything, it'll get you killed."
The comment stung more than she cared to admit, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. "And I suppose you're the one who's going to teach me?"
"Do you see anyone else here?" His expression didn't shift, but something flickered in his eyes—a flash of intensity she couldn't place. "No one else will lay a hand on you. Not if I can help it."
The bluntness of his words sent a rush of heat up her neck, her arms tightening across her chest. "Well, that's not controlling at all," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
"Enough." Caius tilted his head, studying her with a mix of patience and something sharper. "You're wasting time," he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost lazy cadence. "Unless you'd rather spar me in your nightgown."
Her breath hitched at the comment, a flush spreading across her skin. Only now did she realize what she was wearing—a linen nightgown, so light and sheer that the faint glow of the candlelight behind her turned it nearly transparent.
She turned her back to him quickly, pretending to grab something from the vanity.
Had he noticed?
"Five minutes, Eira," Caius said, his voice drawing her back to the present. "And no more stalling."
Embarrassment flickered into anger, and she turned back toward him with a glare. "I wasn't stalling," she said, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Good," he said, arching a brow, his golden eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light.
She huffed, marching toward the wardrobe with far more confidence than she felt. Her pulse raced, but she forced the heat in her cheeks down. She threw the doors open, the sound of wood hitting stone breaking the tense silence.
"Do you mind?" she snapped over her shoulder, hoping her tone would shame him into leaving.
Caius didn't so much as blink. He stayed where he was, his gaze steady and unrelenting. "Get dressed, Eira," he said, the faintest hint of impatience in his voice.
Her chest tightened, anger bubbling just beneath her skin.
Fine. I know how to play this game. She thought sharply.
Eira tugged her nightgown over her head without hesitation. Cool air brushed her bare back, and she bit down on the instinct to glance at Caius. She tugged her hair free, letting it fall around her shoulders before pulling it back into a loose knot.
Let him look. Let him invade my privacy. I'll make him regret it.
She pulled a sports bra from the wardrobe. If this is what he wanted, she wasn't going to make this easy for him. With a faint huff, she slipped the bra on, tugging it into place with practiced ease. The snug material pressed against her ribs, a stark contrast to the delicate silk and lace she'd grown used to.
Next, she grabbed the t-shirt, pulling it on slowly and letting the fabric slide over her skin with deliberate ease. The rough cotton felt almost foreign after weeks of finery, but it was far better than the flimsy nightgown.
Finally, she stepped into a pair of stretchy yoga pants, bending slightly to pull them up. When she was done, she turned sharply to face him.
Caius hadn't moved from his place by the door. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable—but his gaze was locked on her.
The intensity of it made her stomach flip, though she refused to look away. She lifted her chin, daring him to say something.
"Happy now?" she asked, her tone cool and defiant.
Caius held her gaze for a moment longer, the faintest flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. Then, his lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smirk.
"Finally," he said, his voice low and even, but with a touch of something darker. "Let's go."
Eira's pulse thundered in her ears as she followed him from the room, cursing herself for the way her heart raced. She refused to let him see how deeply he unsettled her, but she knew he'd felt it—sensed it, like a wolf catching the scent of prey.
She hated that about him.
The courtyard was cold, the air sharp against her skin despite the torches casting weak light against the walls. Eira shivered as she stepped onto the worn stone, her breath forming soft clouds in the chill. Across from her, Caius stood like a shadow against the flickering firelight, his coat discarded. His fitted black shirt did little to soften the sharp, unrelenting lines of his frame.
In his hand, a silver dagger caught the torchlight, gleaming with lethal promise.
Eira crossed her arms, keeping a few cautious paces between them. "Let me guess," she said. "You're going to show me how to stab things?"
"Among other things," he replied, his tone clipped. Without warning, he tossed the dagger toward her.
The blade arced through the air, and Eira fumbled to catch it. The hilt smacked against her palm, and she nearly dropped it before clutching it awkwardly in both hands.
"First rule," Caius said, beginning to circle her like a wolf sizing up its prey. "Always be ready. If you hesitate, you're dead."
"Charming," she muttered, shifting her grip on the dagger. Its weight was heavier than she expected, the cold steel biting into her skin.
He stepped closer, his golden eyes narrowing. "Show me how you'd hold it."
Eira raised the dagger clumsily, her fingers too tight around the hilt, her arm trembling slightly from the tension.
Caius sighed, the sound laced with equal parts amusement and irritation. "You'll break your wrist like that," he said, his voice low.
Without waiting for permission, he moved behind her, his hands brushing her shoulders as he adjusted her stance.
Eira stiffened at the unexpected closeness, her breath catching. The weight of him at her back was overwhelming, the faint scent of cedar and iron filling the cold night air.
"I can do it myself," she snapped, though her voice wavered.
"Clearly, you can't," he replied, his tone calm, unyielding. His hands slid down her arms, his movements deliberate as he adjusted her grip. "There. Try again."
Her pulse thudded in her ears, but she jabbed at the air, testing the new hold.
"Better," he said, stepping back. His voice was quieter now, almost approving.
Eira turned to face him, her grip tightening on the dagger as she tried to summon the remnants of her defiance. "So what now? Do I stab you?"
He smirked faintly, the expression both mocking and predatory. "If you think you can."
The challenge was unexpected, and for a moment, Eira hesitated. Caius saw it immediately.
"Don't think," he said sharply. "Act."
The next few minutes blurred into a flurry of movement. Caius pushed her harder than she expected, his commands precise and unyielding.
Before she could react, he lunged, his movements fluid and impossibly fast. Eira yelped, stumbling backward as he reached out and twisted the dagger from her hand with effortless precision.
"You're holding back," he said, tossing the blade back to her. The steel spun in the air, and this time she caught it—barely.
"I'm not holding back!" she snapped, her cheeks burning.
His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Yes, you are. And hesitation will get you killed."
Eira's chest heaved as she gritted her teeth. Her fingers tightened on the dagger until her knuckles turned white.
"Again," Caius ordered.