Page 18 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"I know," I replied simply, continuing anyway. Once he was clean, I dealt with myself and slowly dressed. The silence was heavy with everything unsaid. There was a sense of intimacy in this moment, a vulnerability that neither of us were accustomed to revealing. I stood by the bedside, unsure of what to say next, my heart heavy with conflicting emotions. I met his gaze as he looked up at me.
"I should go," I said quietly.
He nodded. “I won’t say anything. About the meeting.”
Relief filled me.
"Thank you."
He nodded wordlessly, understanding passing between us without the need for further explanation. I lingered for a moment longer, wanting to reach out, to offer comfort in a way that words could not express. But I held back, knowing that he wouldn’t want that from me, and instead, I left him there alone.
5
The training yard was silent in the predawn light, dew clinging to the hard packed sand beneath my boots as I moved through the noble sword forms. My practice sword cut through the morning mist, each movement precise and controlled despite my exhaustion. I'd been awake for hours, driven from my bed by the same nightmare — Arilius's eyes finding mine in that final moment of understanding, before the light left them forever.
"I don’t remember your brother," his words followed me even into wakefulness. Each night, his death played out again behind my closed eyelids, blood pooling beneath his fallen form, each time I awoke, tears falling, the feel of his blood sprayed across my face. Once it had been Tarus’ death that had haunted my nights. Now it was that of his killer.
I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. If I trained until I could barely stand, sometimes I could force myself into a dreamless sleep.
"Your footwork has improved considerably," a voice called from behind me.
I whirled around, practice sword raised defensively, to find Jalend Northreach leaning against the stone wall that enclosed the training yard. The early sunlight caught in his sleek dark hair, highlighting it with copper fire. His presence sent a flutter of something dangerous through my chest.
"I didn't hear you approach," I said, lowering my weapon.
"That was rather the point." He pushed away from the wall with easy grace, drawing his own practice sword. "I've been watching you for the past ten minutes. You were completely absorbed."
I shrugged, trying to ignore how his words made me feel both exposed and oddly pleased. "Concentration is key to survival."
"Indeed." He circled me slowly, his sword held loosely at his side. "Especially when one faces enemies on all fronts."
My heart stuttered. Did he suspect something? Had I given myself away somehow? "What do you mean?"
His smile was enigmatic. "I'm referring to your admirers, of course. Valeria and her little court have been particularly venomous lately."
Relief washed through me. "They're a minor annoyance, nothing more."
"An annoyance that's become increasingly bold." He raised an eyebrow. "I've noticed how they surround you in the dining hall, how they whisper when you pass. Even Legate Ferris has commented on their behaviour."
I rotated my wrist, loosening it before our inevitable sparring match. "I've faced worse than spoiled noblewomen."
"I don't doubt it." His eyes studied me with that unnerving intensity he sometimes displayed. "You've clearly fought for everything you have."
The observation hit too close to home. I raised my practice sword. "Are we talking or sparring, Lord Northreach?"
His smile widened, something predatory glinting in his eyes. "Both, Lady Cantius. I find you fascinating enough to attempt both simultaneously."
We began to circle each other, the wet grass squeaking beneath our boots. Jalend was easily the most skilled swordsman among the cadets—possibly better than some of the instructors. I'd learned that the hard way during our first sparring match. But over the weeks, I'd begun to recognize his patterns, to anticipate the fluid grace of his movements.
He struck first, a deceptively casual thrust that I sidestepped easily.
"You've been having nightmares," he said conversationally, as though commenting on the weather rather than my private torments.
I nearly missed my block on his follow-up attack. "How would you know that?"
"The shadows under your eyes. The way you push yourself harder when you're troubled." He parried my counter with frustrating ease. "And the fact that you've been in the training yard before dawn every morning this week."
I redoubled my efforts, driving him back with a series of quick, aggressive strikes. "Do you make a habit of observing your fellow cadets so closely?"
