Chapter 41
Lucina
"Are you sure about this?"
Kai asks me for what feels like the hundredth time today.
We sit in the VIP section of the arena, awaiting the finals of the swordsmanship competition.
A few places away, the rest of the royal family sits in their own section. The distance is both physical and symbolic.
I glance at Kai, who fidgets nervously beside me.
"You're my guest, Kai."
I say it once again, hoping to reassure him. He's visibly uneasy, clearly out of his element in a seat typically reserved for nobles.
"If you're sure." He murmurs, fanning his face anxiously. "As long as I don't get executed for this."
I roll my eyes and use the fan he made for me to cool myself.
The arena buzzes with anticipation. The air thickens with excitement for the impending final match.
I wish Nikolai and Valendor were here with me. But strict protocols allow only one guest. Choosing one over the other would be impossible, so I left them to find seats among the crowd.
"I still can't believe you brought me here."
Awe colors his voice.
"Believe it." I smile. "You're with me. That's all that matters."
I scan the crowd.
My eyes unintentionally lock with Luan's. Seated just a few paces away, he catches my gaze and winks.
I look away quickly, concealing my disgust behind my fan. Its delicate movement masks my true feelings.
The arena buzzes louder with anticipation.
The host steps into the center, capturing everyone's attention. His voice booms across the stadium.
"Welcome, everyone, to the grand finals of the swordsmanship competition! Today, we will witness twelve simultaneous matches. The six winners will advance, battling until we have our final three contenders. These three will then face off based on a random draw, leading to the ultimate showdown."
The crowd erupts. Cheers. Whistles. Pure excitement.
Giant holographic screens around the arena—and throughout the Salona Empire—project the event. This is more than a competition. It's a spectacle celebrated by the entire nation.
The announcement ends.
My eyes zero in on Haroun.
He strides onto the field with commanding presence. Confidence radiates from him. Cold determination.
His opponent is clad in full armor, traditional and heavy.
Haroun wears only black leather pants and a white linen shirt. The simplicity of his outfit accentuates his raw power and agility.
That's my Haroun.
"You'll burn a hole through his skull if you stare any longer."
Kai's tone is light. Teasing.
I giggle, unable to tear my eyes away from Haroun.
I've never seen him like this. So intense. So focused. A new side of him—undeniably attractive.
The match begins.
Haroun moves with grace that is almost artistic. Fluid. Effortless. Each step and strike executed with precision.
Not a drop of sweat mars his face.
His opponent is already struggling. Breath ragged. Movements desperate.
I watch, mesmerized, as Haroun wields his sword with unparalleled skill. Every swing testifies to his training and natural talent. His blade cuts through the air with deadly accuracy.
His opponent, clad in heavy armor, tries to keep up. Clearly outmatched.
Where Haroun is elegance and efficiency, his opponent is clumsy and labored.
Haroun's face remains serene. Unbroken focus.
Each dodge and parry seems almost effortless—as if he is dancing rather than fighting.
The crowd is captivated. Cheers and gasps form a constant backdrop to the duel.
But for me, the world narrows to just him. Every movement. Every calculated strike. A display of his mastery.
His opponent, drenched in sweat and visibly faltering, attempts a desperate final attack.
Haroun sidesteps with ease.
He counters with a swift, decisive blow.
The opponent's sword clatters to the ground.
Match over.
Haroun is the victor.
*
The arena erupts.
Applause. Cheers. The noise is almost overwhelming.
Haroun remains composed. He acknowledges the crowd with a brief nod, his expression unchanged.
He turns to leave the field.
Our eyes meet for a brief moment.
A small, knowing smile tugs at his lips.
My heart swells with pride and admiration.
I hide my smile behind my fan, my eyes lingering on Haroun as he rests, preparing for his next match.
"Get a room."
Kai's voice drips with drama.
"What?"
I glance over at him, laughing.
"You two are busy eye-fucking each other from across the arena. In public, no less." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "It's embarrassing."
I laugh at his exaggeration.
"Bite me."
He rolls his eyes. "Just saying. If there was a prize for making eyes at each other, you two would have already won."
"Perhaps." I concede, still chuckling. "But you must admit—Haroun is extraordinary out there."
Kai makes a gagging sound, showcasing his disgust.
I laugh a little more.
Haroun settles down, preparing for the next round.
I take a moment to soak in the atmosphere. The crowd's energy is electric. Excitement palpable as they anticipate the upcoming matches.
The arena buzzes with chatter and speculation.
Everyone eager to see who will emerge victorious.
I already know.
It's him.