The training grounds were empty at this hour — cold stone, cold moon, cold wind. Midnight wrapped the arena in shadow, torches flickering in long, jagged strokes along the walls.
Ariaxa stepped inside hesitantly, the collar on her throat humming with low, warning magic.
Kaedan was already there.
He stood in the center of the grounds, shirt discarded, arms crossed, muscles rippling beneath silver tattoos that caught the torchlight like wildfire. His expression was carved from obsidian.
“Come forward,” he ordered.
Her steps were careful, deliberate. “Why have you brought me here?”
Kaedan lifted a practice blade — curved, deadly even when dulled. He tossed another at her feet. The clang echoed through the empty arena.
“You’re going to fight me.”
Ariaxa stared. “I—what?”
“I need to assess your progress,” he said, voice cold steel. “After all… Riven has been teaching you.”
Her pulse lurched. “You knew about the training?”
His eyes flashed. “I know everything that happens in this palace.”
The tone made her shiver.
He tilted his chin. “Pick up the blade.”
“No.”
His aura snapped like a whip. “Pick. It. Up.”
She reached down, hand trembling, fingers curling around the hilt. The moment she stood, Kaedan stepped close enough that her breath tangled.
“You will not break,” he murmured. “Not until I break you.”
Her stomach tightened — not with fear, but rage.
“Begin.”
Kaedan struck first, a flash of motion, blade slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Ariaxa barely blocked in time; sparks flew where metal clashed.
He pressed her, quick, methodical, relentless.
“You’re slow.”
She gritted her teeth. “You’re overconfident.”
He smirked, a dark curl of lip. “Prove me wrong.”
Ariaxa parried again, momentum building. Riven’s lessons flooded her muscles — center your balance, shift your weight, cut angles, not arcs. She sidestepped, ducked under Kaedan’s swing, and slashed upward.
Her blade grazed his ribs.
Kaedan froze.
Then he laughed — low, dangerous, approving.
“Interesting.”
He lunged with genuine force this time, and their weapons collided with sharp, ringing notes. Ariaxa’s arms vibrated with the impact. He was faster, stronger, trained since childhood by monsters.
But she had something he didn’t expect —
Fire.
“You’re holding back,” she spat, dodging another blow. “Afraid to hit me?”
His eyes turned black as night. “I am not afraid of you.”
“You are,” she hissed.
He snarled — not a sound a man should make — and rushed her, blades crashing again and again, footwork vicious, movements a storm.
Ariaxa met him strike for strike.
Every clash was a word unsaid.
Every blow was an accusation.
Every step was a scar between them.
“You think yourself powerful?” Kaedan growled. “You think you’ve grown? You’re still a prisoner.”
Ariaxa shoved back. “And you’re still a coward.”
He slammed her sword aside, sparks exploding in the air. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” she said, chest heaving. “You hide behind this throne, this palace, this cruelty—”
His blade met hers violently, grinding metal to metal, their faces inches apart.
“You know nothing of me.”
“I know you fear what’s happening,” she said, pushing with all her strength. “I know it terrifies you that you couldn’t let them touch me during the Convocation—”
His breath faltered.
She pressed harder. “I know you can’t stand losing control when I’m involved—”
He shoved her back so hard she hit the ground, air punched from her lungs.
Kaedan stood over her, chest rising in sharp, uneven breaths.
“Careful,” he warned. “You tread on dangerous ground.”
Ariaxa pushed to her feet, fury boiling. “I’m already on dangerous ground. You put me there.”
His jaw flexed. “You provoke me.”
“You frighten me.”
“Good.”
“No,” she snapped. “Not good. Because you feed on fear like it’s power. Like it makes you stronger.”
He stepped forward, blade lowering. “It does.”
“You’re sick.”
“And yet—” His eyes dragged down her body, lingering. “Your fear of me is intoxicating.”
Her heartbeat burst into her throat. “You enjoy this?”
“I enjoy truth.” He stalked closer. “And the truth is, you fear me more than anything.”
Ariaxa inhaled sharply, gripping her blade. “And you fear me.”
Kaedan froze mid-step.
Just a moment. Just a blink.
But she saw it — the fracture.
He recovered instantly, sneering. “I fear nothing.”
“Liar.”
He lunged at her again, fury blazing. Their blades collided in a blaze of sparks. Kaedan fought brutally now, no restraint, no control, every strike fueled by something wild and unhinged.
Ariaxa ducked, spun, and sliced — hitting his shoulder. His hiss echoed across the grounds.
“Enough,” he growled.
“No,” she snapped. “Not until you admit it.”
He knocked her blade from her hand. It skidded across the stone.
Ariaxa barely took a breath before he slammed her to the ground, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, his body pressed along hers, heat and power and fury radiating through him.
She gasped — from pain, from shock, from something she didn’t want to name.
His voice dropped into a dark, feral whisper.
“I will not be dissected by you.”
“You already are.”
“Stop.”
“You’re afraid—”
“Ariaxa.”
“—of yourself.”
Something snapped.
Not in her.
In him.
Kaedan’s entire body went rigid, every muscle locked, breath trapped in his chest as if her words had driven a blade straight into it.
His eyes widened — not with anger.
With realization.
Ariaxa stared up at him, chest rising beneath his weight, wrists trapped, heartbeat wild.
Kaedan didn’t move.
He didn’t snarl.
He didn’t threaten.
He didn’t breathe.
Because she was right.