The training grounds brimmed with anticipation as students filled the stands, their voices blending into an excited hum. Banners waved, the sun cast long shadows over the sand, and the scent of sweat and polished steel filled the air. The academy's annual sword-fighting competition had finally begun.
Logan was among the first competitors, stepping onto the training field with his usual confident swagger. His opponent barely lasted more than a few minutes—Logan was swift, efficient, and entirely in control. His strikes were precise, his footwork effortless. With one final parry, he disarmed his opponent, sending the blade skidding across the dirt.
The crowd erupted into applause.
Logan, ever the gentleman, turned toward the stands with a playful grin. From behind his back, he pulled out a handful of roses, each one fresh and vibrant. With an exaggerated flourish, he began handing them out to the ladies in his circle—one for Selene, one for Arabella, one for Astrid and Camille.
Arabella laughed as she accepted hers, tucking it delicately against her chest.
Cedric arrived just in time to witness that moment.
His eyes immediately locked onto Arabella's glowing expression, the way her emerald-green eyes sparkled with warmth as she clutched the flower to her chest. And Logan---standing there with that insufferable smile, had given it to her.
A sharp pang of jealousy coiled in Cedric's stomach.
His fingers twitched at his sides as he stepped into the dueling ring for his own match. The irritation bubbling beneath his skin fueled his movements, his strikes were aggressive, his footwork relentless. He didn't just defeat his opponent; he overwhelmed him with sheer force. The match was over in record time.
Yet, even with his victory secured, Cedric's frustration lingered.
Without thinking, he strode toward the stands and, in a bold move, extended his rose toward Selene.
Selene, who had been watching from the bleachers, arched a brow in surprise. She leaned forward, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you my victory rose," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Selene narrowed her gaze. "I thought you'd be giving it to Arabella," she pointed out. "You did tell me you were hopelessly in love with her and wanted to win her heart."
Cedric exhaled sharply. "I'm doing this to get back at her" he admitted under his breath. "She accepted Logan's rose without hesitation. She looked so happy." His jaw clenched. "I can't stand it."
Selene sighed. "You're being ridiculous," she muttered.
His expression darkened slightly. "Am I?"
"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "Logan gave
every lady in our group of friends a rose, Cedric. You saw her take one, but did you even noticethat the rest of us got one too?"
Cedric's expression shifted as realization dawned. He glanced back at Arabella, watching as she idly twirled the rose in her fingers, unaware of his turmoil.
He felt foolish.
Running a hand through his hair, he let out a small chuckle. "I overreacted, didn't I?"
"Completely," Selene confirmed with an amused smirk.
Without warning, Cedric pulled her into a grateful hug, holding her tightly for a moment. "You always know how to talk sense into me," he murmured.
Arabella, seated only a few rows away, caught the scene from the corner of her eye.
Her smile faltered.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to hope, allowed herself to believe that Cedric would come to her with the rose. That he would look at her the way she secretly looked at him.
But he didn't.
Instead, he was standing there, arms wrapped around Selene, whispering words meant only for her.
Arabella swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly averted her gaze, blinking hard to keep the sting of unshed tears at bay.
Meanwhile, Keith stepped into the ring for his match.
His golden eyes instinctively flickered toward the stands—toward Selene.
She was still standing close to Cedric, laughing softly at something he said. Their proximity, the ease between them, made something uncomfortably tight coil in Keith's chest.
He shook his head, trying to banish the intrusive thought.
Why did it bother him?
With a sharp inhale, he turned back to his opponent, trying to focus. The match began, but for the first few exchanges, Keith found himself oddly distracted. His movements were sluggish, his reactions slower than usual.
It wasn't until his opponent nearly landed a hit that Keith snapped back into the present.
Channeling his frustration, he tightened his grip on his sword and pressed forward. His strikes became sharper, more precise, each one fueled by the unfamiliar emotion brewing inside him. Within moments, he regained control of the match, and his opponent stood no chance against his sheer force.
The victory was his.
As the cheers rang out, Keith barely acknowledged them.
His gaze swept the stands until it landed on Evangeline. Without hesitation, he strode toward her and offered his victory rose.
Evangeline hesitated for a second before accepting it gracefully, her fingers brushing his as she met his gaze.
Selene, watching from nearby, instinctively raised a hand in greeting as Keith walked past her.
He didn't acknowledge her.
Not even a glance.
The moment was brief, but it stung more than she cared to admit.
For a heartbeat, something twisted inside her—a quiet ache she refused to name. But she quickly smothered the feeling, forcing herself to smile and turn back to the women beside her.
If Keith wanted to act like she didn't exist, then fine.
She would do the same.