Elara’s POV
The sword was heavier than it looked, and that only made me want it more.
“Again,” Dani said, pacing a slow circle around me with his arms crossed. “Your feet are too narrow.”
“They’re fine,” I snapped, tightening my grip on the wooden hilt. “I’m not going to fall.”
“You’re going to fall,” he replied. “Widen your stance.”
I widened it an inch and lunged.
The sword hissed through the air. Dani stepped aside like the wind had moved him, and he tapped my wrist with his practice blade. My fingers went numb. My sword slipped and thudded into the dirt.
A couple of guards at the far end laughed.
My cheeks burned. “I almost had you.”
“You almost hurt yourself,” Dani said. “Pick it up.”
I bent, grabbed the sword, and came up ready to strike again. The training yard behind our cottage was packed earth and worn grooves from boots. Dani trained the village guards when the council could pay, and when they couldn’t, he trained them anyway.
He just wouldn’t train me.
I attacked again, angry. Dani blocked me easily, his expression turning sharp.
“Stop fighting with rage,” he said. “Rage makes you predictable.”
“Then why do soldiers fight angry?” I shot back. “Why do you train them if anger is wrong?”
“Because they don’t have a choice,” he said. “You do.”
“I don’t,” I argued. “You’re the one who decides everything.”
Dani’s jaw tightened. “Enough, Elara.”
That word hit like a slap. Enough. Like my wanting was greedy.
I lowered the sword but didn’t let it go. “You train boys younger than me,” I said. “You train men who drink until they can’t see straight. But you won’t train me.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” I demanded, stepping closer. “Because I’m a girl?”
His eyes flashed. “Because you’re my daughter.”
It was always that. Daughter. Like it was a chain around my ankle.
I turned away, breathing hard, and that was when I saw Vivian at the doorway, her apron tied tight, her hair pinned back. She was watching me the way she watched storms—soft, proud, and a little afraid.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.
Vivian’s smile warmed. “Like what?”
“Like you’re proud,” I said. “He hates it.”
Dani’s voice snapped. “Vivian.”
“What?” Vivian asked. “She’s fast.”
“She’s reckless,” Dani corrected.
“I’m right here,” I said. “And I’m not reckless. I’m determined.”
Vivian stepped down and brushed dirt from my sleeve. “Determined girls change the world.”
“Determined girls get hurt,” Dani said immediately.
I glared at him. “So you’d rather I be weak?”
“No,” he said, rough. “I’d rather you be alive.”
For a moment his face twisted like pain passed through it. Then he turned away and walked toward the rack of swords.
“Go help your mother,” he ordered. “And stop stealing my weapons.”
I wanted to argue, but Vivian’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Come inside,” she murmured. “Let him cool.”
“He’s the one who’s always burning,” I muttered, but I followed her.
The day moved on. Vivian made bread, and I kneaded the dough too hard out of spite. Dani came home with that scowl that never left his mouth, like smiling would invite disaster.
At dinner, Vivian tried to lighten the air. “Bran says the new recruits are so slow he could knit them socks before they lift a blade.”
Dani grunted. “Bran talks too much.”
“And you talk too little,” Vivian replied gently.
Dani’s eyes flicked to me. “Elara talks enough for three.”
“I talk because no one answers me,” I shot back.
Vivian set a bowl in front of me. “Eat.”
I ate, but my anger stayed, sitting in my ribs like a stone.
That night, after the fire burned low, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. My arms still ached from swinging the sword. Dani’s word—alive—kept circling my head, like he believed death lived just outside the door.
Then I heard voices.
Not normal voices. These were quiet, careful, pressed tight.
I slid out of bed and padded down the hall. Dani kept a back room for maps and ledgers, and he locked it when he traveled. Tonight it wasn’t locked.
I pressed my ear to the door.
“…she’s growing,” Vivian whispered.
Dani answered, low and strained. “I know.”
“She wants to be trained,” Vivian said.
“She can’t,” Dani snapped. “Not like that.”
“Because of what happened?” Vivian’s voice trembled.
There was a pause long enough for my heart to start racing.
Dani spoke again, softer, as if the word hurt his tongue. “Because of Verdana.”
The name meant nothing to me, but the way he said it made my stomach twist.
Vivian made a small sound. “Don’t say it.”
“We promised,” Dani whispered. “We promised she must never know.”
“Dani,” Vivian pleaded. “She’s our child.”
“She is,” Dani said, fierce and broken. “And that’s why she must never—”
I pushed the door open. They both turned at the same time, eyes wide, bodies still. Dani’s hands were braced on the table. Vivian’s cheeks were wet.
“Elara,” Vivian breathed.
“What did you say?” I demanded. “What is Verdana? Why are you whispering like thieves?”
Dani swallowed hard. “You were supposed to be asleep.”
“I heard you,” I said, stepping inside. “You said I must never know something. You said you promised. Promised who?”
Silence.
Vivian walked toward me quickly. “Love,” she whispered, “it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer,” I snapped. “None of you ever answer.”
Dani’s eyes were dark, tired. “Some things are adult matters,” he said carefully.
“I’m not a baby,” I insisted. “If you’re scared, tell me what to be scared of.”
Vivian reached for my hand. Her fingers shook. “Elara, do you trust us?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
“Then please,” she whispered, “let this rest.”
Dani nodded once, like it cost him. “It’s old talk,” he said. “Old places. Old memories. Nothing you need to carry.”
I stared at him, trying to find the truth in his face. I found fear. I found love. I found guilt, heavy as the sword I wasn’t allowed to lift.
“Okay,” I said, swallowing the ache in my throat. “If you say it’s nothing.”
Vivian pulled me into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered, too desperate for a simple thank you.
Dani looked away, jaw clenched, like he couldn’t stand being seen.
“Go to bed,” Vivian murmured. “Please.”
I backed out of the room, still watching them. They didn’t move. They didn’t explain. They just stared at me as if my footsteps could change the world.
In the hall, my heart hammered against my ribs. I wanted to turn back and demand answers until the walls shook, but Vivian’s arms around me had felt like home, and Dani’s voice—alive—still echoed in my head.
I walked to my room and sat on the edge of my bed, listening. No footsteps followed. No explanation came. The cottage settled into the ordinary creaks of night, yet the air felt different, charged.
I told myself it was nothing. I told myself parents kept secrets the way they kept money—carefully, for survival.
But questions didn't stop bothering me. What are they lying to me about?