Page 11 of Naga Warlord's Mate

“Just admiring your choice, warlord.” She took a step closer, tilting her head back to maintain eye contact. “Trying to decide if you picked the heaviest one on purpose, or if that’s just your natural tendency toward overkill.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You think I’m being too hard on you?”

“I think you’re trying to make me quit for some reason.” She lifted her chin, defiance burning through her exhaustion. “And I think you’re going to be very disappointed.”

Priscilla reached for the staff, her fingers wrapping around the smooth wood. The moment Andear released his grip, her arms dropped several inches. The weight yanked at her shoulders, already strained from the armor challenge.

She adjusted her stance, and her arms trembled as she attempted to lift it into a defensive position.

“That position leaves your left side exposed.” Andear’s voice cut through her concentration. “Again.”

She gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to correct her form. The staff wobbled, nearly slipping from her grasp. Frustration bubbled up in her chest, threatening to spill over.

“I said again.” His tone was sharp.

Memories of her past flashed through her mind—years of being told she wasn’t worth anything, wasn’t strong enough. But this was different. This was her choice. Her chance to prove she could be more than what others saw when they looked at her.

“I’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, drawing in a deep breath. The air filled her lungs, steadying her racing heart.

She adjusted her grip again, sliding her hands further apart. The weight distributed more evenly, and she found her balance. One movement at a time, she worked through the defensive stance Andear had demonstrated earlier.

Block. Shift. Pivot.

Her muscles screamed, but she pushed through the pain. Each attempt brought her closer to the proper form, each failure teaching her something new about her body’s capabilities.

On her seventh try, everything clicked. The staff moved as an extension of her arms, her feet planted firmly as she executed a perfect defensive block. The wood sang through the air and stopped exactly where it should.

Priscilla held the position, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked up at Andear, unable to hide the triumph in her eyes.

His golden gaze locked on to hers, something flickering in their depths. Interest? Approval? Whatever it was made her pulse quicken. He studied her for a long moment, his massive frame casting a large shadow over her smaller form.

“That’s enough for today.” His words came out clipped, almost harsh.

Before she could respond, he turned and moved away, his powerful form disappearing into the shadows of the training ground. No acknowledgment of her achievement, no word of praise.

But Priscilla had seen that look in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it fast enough, and that meant more than any words he could have said.

The following day, Priscilla caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye as she sparred with Krav. Andear stood in the shadows of the stone pillars, his massive frame tense and those golden eyes tracking her every move. She’d noticed him watching her more today, his gaze burning into her skin even as he barked commands at other warriors.

“Focus,” Krav growled, swinging his staff toward her ribs.

She ducked and rolled, coming up behind him in a move she’d perfected over the past several hours. Her smaller size gave her an advantage in speed, if nothing else.

“Better,” Andear’s rich voice cut through the air.

The other warriors had stopped their drills to watch, their whispers carrying across the stone courtyard.

“The human’s getting dangerous.”

“I can’t believe the warlord’s actually letting her train.”

Krav attacked again, faster this time. Priscilla blocked, her arms trembling with the force of the impact. She spun away, using his momentum against him.

A low rumble of approval came from Andear’s direction. When she dared a glance, his eyes had darkened to molten gold, something fierce and unreadable in their depths. He crossed his arms, his scales shifting in the sunlight, but didn’t look away.

“That’s enough,” he commanded, his voice rougher than usual. “Krav, join the others. Priscilla, basic forms.”

She moved through the defensive stances, each one more fluid than the last. Sweat trickled down her spine, her muscles burning with familiar exertion. But she didn’t stop, didn’t slow. Not when she could feel his eyes on her, cataloging every movement with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

---