The clash of steel rang through the training grounds, echoing against the towering stone walls.
Princess Elysia moved like a wildfire—fast, relentless, unpredictable. Her longsword arced through the air, striking against Lady Seraphina's blade with a sharp clang. Sparks flew as metal met metal, the force of their blows rattling through their arms.
Elysia smirked, her violet eyes gleaming with determination. She could feel the heat of her magic simmering just beneath her skin, restrained but always present.
Her silver hair, damp with sweat, clung to her forehead as she pressed forward, forcing Seraphina to step back.
"Getting slow, Lady Seraphina?" Elysia taunted, twisting her wrist to send a downward strike toward her mentor's shoulder.
Seraphina deflected with ease, her movements controlled, deliberate. "Or maybe you're getting cocky," she countered, her green eyes watching Elysia carefully.
Elysia felt it—something was off. Seraphina wasn't pushing herself. She was holding back.
That irritated her.
Grinding her teeth, Elysia surged forward, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. She shifted her stance, feinting left before spinning to strike from the right. Her muscles burned, but she relished the sensation. She wanted a challenge, a real fight.
Seraphina sighed.
And then, in an instant, everything changed.
Elysia barely had time to react before Seraphina moved with blinding speed. The older warrior ducked beneath her swing, pivoting on her heel.
A sharp pain exploded in Elysia's ribs as Seraphina's elbow struck her side, knocking the breath from her lungs. Before she could recover, Seraphina swept her legs out from under her.
Elysia hit the ground hard, her back slamming against the packed dirt. The air rushed from her lungs, leaving her momentarily stunned. Before she could even think about rolling away, the cold bite of a blade rested against her throat.
Seraphina loomed over her, a cocky smirk tugging at her lips.
"You were saying?"
Elysia groaned. "Damn it."
Seraphina sheathed her sword and extended a hand. Elysia took it grudgingly, pulling herself up. Her pride stung more than her body, but she had to admit—Seraphina was good.
"Next time, try thinking before you charge in like a rabid wolf," Seraphina said, ruffling Elysia's hair like she was still a child.
Elysia swatted her hand away, scowling. "I had you for a moment."
Seraphina chuckled. "For a moment."
Before Elysia could retort, a voice interrupted.
"Your Highness."
She turned to see a young servant standing at the edge of the training grounds, bowing respectfully. "The king is expecting you."
Elysia sighed. "Of course he is."
Seraphina gave her a knowing smirk. "Try not to trip on your way there, princess."
Elysia shot her a glare before turning away.
Elysia stripped off her training tunic, sighing as the warmth of the shower water cascaded over her sore muscles. The steam curled around her, soothing the dull ache from her fight with Seraphina.
At twenty-four, she had everything she had ever wanted—power, respect, and the freedom to fight alongside the kingdom's greatest warriors.
She had trained all her life, mastering both sword and magic. She loved it. She loved feeling strong, capable.
Being a princess wasn't just about wearing crowns and sitting in silken gowns. Not for her.
And yet, despite everything, there were still duties she could not escape.
Sighing, she finished rinsing off, wrapping a towel around herself. She caught her reflection in the mirror—silver hair clinging to her shoulders, violet eyes still burning with frustration from her loss.
She was the daughter of a king, the jewel of Arvandor. But right now, she was just a girl with too many responsibilities waiting for her.
She dressed quickly in a deep blue tunic, embroidered with silver, and fastened her sword belt around her waist. Her boots echoed against the marble floors as she made her way to the throne room.
---
The grand doors to the throne room swung open, revealing the towering form of King Thalor.
He sat upon his gilded throne, his graying hair neatly tied back, his regal blue robes flowing over his broad shoulders. He was not a man who commanded respect through power alone, but through wisdom, patience.
"Ah, Elysia," he greeted, his voice warm but steady. "Come, sit."
She stepped forward, bowing slightly before taking her place on the cushioned chair beside him.
"You requested me, Father?"
Thalor nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "We have received an offer of alliance from the elven kingdom of Sylvalis."
Elysia's brows lifted slightly. The elves of Sylvalis were powerful, their magic ancient and formidable. They were not quick to trust, nor were they quick to offer alliances.
"And what do they want in return?" she asked, leaning forward.
Thalor smiled knowingly. "Your insight is sharp, as always. They seek military support in their ongoing conflicts with the beast clans to the north. In exchange, they offer trade routes, shared magical knowledge, and a permanent bond between our kingdoms."
Elysia considered this. "A bond? You mean… marriage?"
Thalor chuckled. "No, not necessarily. But a union of some kind—perhaps an exchange of warriors, a combined military force. What do you think?"
Elysia tapped her fingers against the armrest. "It's a strong offer. The elves are unmatched in magic, and if we gain access to their knowledge, it could strengthen our kingdom for generations. But do they truly trust us?"
Thalor nodded. "It seems they do. Or at least, they are willing to try. I want your perspective before I send my reply."
Elysia grinned. "I say we accept. If they prove loyal, we gain a powerful ally. If not, we watch them carefully."
Thalor's eyes gleamed with pride. "You have your mother's cunning."
She smiled at that, pleased.
"Then it is decided. I will send word to Sylvalis."
Elysia practically ran through the halls, her heart pounding—not from battle, but from excitement. She navigated the corridors with ease, her feet knowing the path by heart.
Finally, she reached her destination. Without hesitation, she pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Zera barely had time to react before Elysia grabbed her, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss.
Zera melted into her, her hands instinctively finding Elysia's waist. The warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her—like fresh earth and burning embers—sent a shiver down Elysia's spine.
When they finally broke apart, Zera smirked, her sharp blue eyes dark with mischief.
"I love your body so much."
Elysia laughed breathlessly, pulling her closer. "Good. Because it's all yours."