The morning sun reflected sharply off the practice blades in the palace courtyard. Lord Kaelor stood in the center, his arms crossed, watching the two figures move with a lethal rhythm.
Azeal was focused. He could feel the weight of Vaelora's previous victories pressing on his shoulders. This time, he wasn't just defending; he was hunting for an opening.
Clang. Spark. Slide.
The steel met again and again. Vaelora was fast, but Azeal had been studying her patterns. He saw a flicker of hesitation in her footing—a tiny crack in her armor. With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged forward, his blade aimed at her side.
For the first time in years, Vaelora was off-balance. She was about to fall. The victory was inches away from Azeal's hand.
But then, he saw her. He saw the way the wind caught her hair and the slight frame of her shoulders. In a split second, the "Prince" inside him took over. He hesitated. He didn't want to hurt her. He pulled back his strike, his blade lowering just enough to show mercy.
It was his biggest mistake.
In the blink of an eye, Vaelora's foot found purchase. She didn't accept the mercy; she used it. With a predatory grace, she spun, her blade whistling through the air.
Clack.
Azeal's sword flew from his hand, spinning across the stone floor. Before he could even gasp, the cold, blunt edge of Vaelora's practice blade was pressed firmly against his throat.
The silence in the courtyard was deafening. Lord Kaelor didn't move. Azeal stood frozen, the steel biting into his skin.
"You could have won today," Vaelora said, her voice low and dangerously calm. Her eyes weren't filled with the warmth of a friend; they were the hard, smoke-colored eyes of a warrior.
"I... I didn't want to hurt you, Vae," Azeal managed to say, his breath hitching.
Vaelora's grip on her sword didn't loosen. She stepped closer, her face inches from his. "You didn't want to hurt a girl," she corrected him, her voice dripping with cold fire. "That was your mistake. On the battlefield, there are no girls or boys—there are only those who survive and those who fall."
She lowered her sword, but the sting of her words remained. "If you ever look at me and see someone weak again, Azeal, you will never be a great King. You will just be another man who died because he thought mercy was more important than victory."
She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Azeal standing alone in the dust. Lord Kaelor watched her go, a mixture of pride and fear in his eyes. He looked at Azeal, whose face was a mask of shock and realization.
The sun was still shining, but the lesson Azeal learned that day was darker than any shadow.