I don't know how long we were at it—it could have been minutes, hours, days, or months. I exaggerate, of course, but I didn't mind the passing of time as I stared into her fierce green eyes, locked in combat. In that moment, it felt like I could see forever in her fiery gaze, a mix of determination and raw power that made it impossible to look away.
I got momentarily distracted, my thoughts wandering to how striking she looked in motion—her every movement exuding lethal grace and strength. And that moment of distraction cost me. The flat of her sword slammed into my chest with a resounding thud, knocking the wind out of me. I stumbled back, gasping as the force reverberated through my ribs, and I nearly lost my footing.
"Ouch," I muttered, rubbing the sore spot. My chest throbbed with a dull ache, and I knew it would probably bruise.
"Thought you'd have dodged that one," she said, tilting her head slightly, her tone calm but laced with faint amusement.
"Yeah, me too," I quipped back, wincing as I straightened up.
"Caelan!" a worried voice called out suddenly, startling me.
"Elara?" I said aloud, turning toward the sound.
And then I heard it—a collective gasp rippling through the air. My heart sank as I looked around and realized we were no longer alone.
When did we get an audience?
The once-empty training ground was now crowded with people. Knights in polished armor stood at attention, their expressions a mix of curiosity and judgment. Nobles in elegant mourning attire—here to pay their respects to the king—watched from the sidelines, their faces painted with a combination of intrigue and disapproval. Important court figures, draped in regal robes adorned with silver embroidery, stood with their arms crossed, murmuring among themselves. And at the center of it all was the king, dressed in ceremonial mourning clothes, his somber expression as impassive as stone. The weight of his presence was suffocating.
I stiffened, suddenly hyper-aware of the princess clinging tightly to my arm. Elara's small hand gripped me like a lifeline, her worried eyes scanning me for injuries. I couldn't help but notice the disapproving glances aimed at her—the kind that said her behavior was far from appropriate for someone of her station.
The whispers began immediately, low but insistent, like the hum of bees:
"Is that him? The commoner who saved the princess?"
"I heard he killed one of the attackers in the mansion. Some say it was one of their strongest."
"But look at the princess—clinging to him like that. Hardly fitting for royalty, is it?"
"She called him by his name. It's far too familiar. Scandalous, really."
"He's sparring with Lady Cerys? A farmer's son? Bold, I'll give him that."
"Doesn't he know his place? And what's the princess thinking, behaving this way in public?"
My ears burned as the murmurs grew louder. I tried to ignore them, but it felt like their words were pressing down on me, heavy and relentless. I glanced at Elara, hoping she hadn't noticed, but she stood resolute, ignoring the crowd entirely. If anything, her grip on my arm tightened, and her defiant gaze swept over the onlookers, daring anyone to speak their thoughts aloud.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. This wasn't the kind of attention I wanted—or needed. The king's piercing gaze fell on me, steady and unreadable, his grief and authority blending into a quiet, overwhelming force. His eyes flicked briefly to Elara, then back to me, his expression betraying nothing.
Cerys stepped forward, seemingly unbothered by the crowd. She turned to the king, her voice calm and confident as she spoke. "Your Highness," she said, dipping her head in respect. "This young man shows natural talent. He may be unpolished, but there's potential in him. Perhaps he could be trained further."
Her words hung in the air, drawing the attention of the crowd. I felt every pair of eyes land on me, the scrutiny suffocating. I wanted to shrink into the ground, but Elara's grip kept me steady. Her defiance in the face of all the judgment was both admirable and terrifying.
The murmurs swelled again, and I caught snippets of conversation:
"Natural talent? From a farm boy? How absurd."
"Still, if Lady Cerys sees potential..."
"But with the princess behaving like that—what kind of precedent does this set?"
"This whole scene is... inappropriate."
My cheeks burned, but I forced myself to stand tall.
**
"Silence," the king's voice boomed across the training grounds, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. The authority in his tone was enough to halt every whisper, and all eyes turned to him. His gaze swept over the assembled nobles, knights, and courtiers, his expression as imposing as ever.
Then, to my surprise, he turned to me and gave a firm nod of acknowledgment. "Young Caelan here will soon serve as the princess's warden. However the princess chooses to behave with him is none of your concern," he said, his words sharp and clear, brooking no argument. "Caelan belongs to her, and she will do with him as she pleases."
I felt Elara's grip tighten on my arm, her face lifting with a faint, defiant smile as if she were daring anyone to challenge her father's declaration. My heart, however, felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I wasn't sure how I felt about being referred to as hers, but the weight of the king's words left no room for doubt. He had just drawn a line in the sand, and no one dared cross it.
The king's stern expression softened slightly as he turned to Cerys. "Cerys, I'm glad to hear your assessment of young Caelan's potential. I was already planning to approach your father—the Warden Commander of Valderin—to ask if he would permit you to train him. And here you are, taking initiative. Perhaps it's fate," he said with a deep chuckle that momentarily lightened the tension.
Cerys quirked a brow at me, crossing her arms as her lips tugged into a faint smirk. "Fate or not, Your Majesty, he's rough around the edges, but there's something there. I suppose I could try to polish him." Her tone was as casual as if she were talking about sharpening a blade, not training someone to fight.
The king stepped closer, his imposing figure towering over me. He patted my shoulder with a heavy hand, his strength palpable even through the simple gesture. "You've done well so far, Caelan. But now, the real work begins," he said, his voice low but firm. There was an odd weight to his words, a mixture of encouragement and warning, as if he were handing me both an opportunity and a burden.
With that, he turned and began to walk away, his regal presence leaving a vacuum in his wake. The nobles and courtiers scrambled to follow him, their whispers replaced by hurried steps. As he passed Elara, he glanced at her briefly. "Elara, are you coming?" he asked, his tone softening ever so slightly for her.
She looked at him, then back at me. "If it pleases you, Father, I'd like to stay here with Caelan a while longer."
The king paused, his gaze flickering between us before he waved his hand dismissively. "As you wish," he said, as if he'd expected her answer. Without another word, he strode off, his entourage trailing behind him like a tide retreating from the shore.
The training grounds fell silent again, save for the distant rustling of the wind. Cerys regarded me with a sharp, assessing look, her arms still crossed. Elara, meanwhile, leaned into me slightly, her presence a comforting weight. I couldn't help but feel like I'd just passed some unspoken trial, though the real challenges were still waiting ahead.
**
"Are you hurt?" Elara asked, her voice trembling with worry.
"No," I replied quickly, though my voice wavered, and the grimace on my face betrayed my words.
Her eyes narrowed, and she spun around to face Cerys, her worry morphing into indignation. "How could you hurt him!?" she demanded, her tone sharp and accusing.
Cerys raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed by the princess's outburst. "I barely scratched him, Elara. He's not some delicate vase that'll shatter at the slightest tap," she replied, her tone dry and unconcerned.
Elara, however, wasn't pacified. "He could have been seriously hurt!" she protested, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Cerys let out a small sigh, clearly unimpressed with the princess's fretting. Still, she softened slightly as she walked over to Elara, pulling her into a gentle hug. The gesture caught me off guard, and for a moment, it was like watching two sisters share a moment of comfort.
"I'm sorry about the queen," Cerys said quietly, her voice losing its edge. "She meant a lot to me too. I'll miss her... but I swear, I'll find those responsible. Every last one of them. They'll pay for what they've done." Her tone was low and fierce, a quiet promise laced with deadly intent.
"Thank you," Elara murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she hugged Cerys back.
Cerys pulled away, her green eyes scanning the princess's face with concern. "How are you holding up?"
Elara glanced at me briefly, then back at Cerys. "Caelan's with me, so I'm okay," she said softly, her words carrying more weight than I expected.
Cerys turned her sharp gaze to me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded. "Look after her, Caelan," she said firmly. "And be ready. Your training starts in a few days, and I won't be going easy on you. Rest while you can, and take the time to explore the capital. Once we start, there'll be no breaks."
Her words left little room for argument, but I nodded weakly, already feeling the fatigue catching up to me. The constant sparring, the tension, and the weight of everything that had happened recently bore down on me. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the training ground with a groan.
Elara was at my side in an instant, her worried face peering down at me. "Caelan! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising in alarm.
I waved a hand weakly, trying to reassure her. "Just... need to rest for a moment," I muttered, my breath coming in heavy gulps. The cool ground beneath me was oddly comforting.
Cerys chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she looked down at me. "He'll live. Just push him upright if he doesn't move in five minutes," she teased before turning and walking away with a casual wave.
Elara frowned but knelt beside me, brushing dirt off my shirt. "Let's get you healed up later," she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of concern and determination.
I couldn't help but smile faintly at her fussing, though I lacked the energy to say anything. For now, resting on the cool ground was enough.