POV: Ravenna
I went to the training yards the next morning because I was avoiding thinking about Morgana's words.
You're falling for him.
No. Not thinking about it. Absolutely not.
Instead, I was going to watch warriors beat each other with swords like a normal person who definitely didn't have complicated feelings about anyone.
The training yards were built into the volcanic stone at the base of the palace. Open-air arena with weapon racks lining the walls, sand covering the ground to absorb blood. The clash of steel on steel echoed off stone walls as warriors sparred in pairs.
I'd walked past here hundreds of times. Never paid much attention. Training was training. Warriors did warrior things. Whatever.
But now I found myself scanning the arena, looking for—
There.
Theron.
He was in the center ring, sparring with Hadrian. Both shirtless, covered in sweat, moving with the kind of brutal efficiency that made my breath catch.
I'd watched warriors train before. Had seen demonstrations, tournaments, all the performative displays meant to impress nobles. This wasn't that. This was two men who'd fought together for years, who knew each other's moves, who weren't pulling punches.
Theron moved like violence made flesh. Precise. Deadly. Every motion economical, no wasted energy. His sword work was—gods, it was beautiful in a terrifying way.
I couldn't look away.
Hadrian came in fast, blade high. Theron deflected, pivoted, countered with a strike that would have opened Hadrian's side if he'd been a fraction slower. They separated, circled, engaged again.
I saw the scars covering Theron's arms. His chest. His back when he turned. Evidence of a life spent fighting, surviving, refusing to break.
I saw how he favored his left side slightly. Where the arrow had struck him. Where he'd taken a wound meant for me and nearly died.
My throat went tight.
Hadrian called something I couldn't hear. Theron nodded. They lowered their swords, breathing hard.
Break.
Theron grabbed a water skin from the side of the ring, drinking deep. Then he looked up and saw me watching.
His eyes widened slightly. Surprise. Then something else. Something warmer.
He walked over, still shirtless, still covered in sweat and sand. I should probably not notice how good he looked. Should definitely not be cataloging the way muscles moved under scarred skin.
Morgana's words echoed: You watch him when you think no one's looking.
Dammit.
"Ravenna." His voice was slightly breathless. "Do you need something?"
"I—" What was I supposed to say? I came to watch you train because I'm falling for you and needed to torture myself? "I just wanted to see you."
The admission came out before I could stop it. Too honest. Too revealing.
His expression shifted. Softened. "Oh."
"Is that—is that all right?"
"More than all right." He smiled slightly. "You can watch me train anytime."
The words shouldn't have made my stomach flip. They absolutely did.
"You're good," I said, because I needed to say SOMETHING. "With the sword. I've never—I mean, I've watched demonstrations but this was different. Real."
"Hadrian doesn't pull punches." Theron glanced back at his friend. "Makes me better."
"You're already—" I stopped. Swallowed. "You're very skilled."
Was I blushing? I was probably blushing. Wonderful.
"Princess Ravenna!"
A woman's voice. I turned to see someone approaching—middle-aged, curvy, with warm brown eyes and an easy smile. She wore practical clothes, hair pulled back, and walked with the confidence of someone comfortable in the training yards.
"Lady Lyra," I said, recognition clicking. Hadrian's wife. I'd seen her at court functions but never really talked to her.
"Please, just Lyra." She stopped beside us, including Theron in her smile. "I wanted to congratulate you properly. On the bond. I heard Solace's choice was absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you," I managed.
"Bonded fifteen years this spring," she said, glancing toward Hadrian who was now sparring with another warrior. "Best decision I ever made. Though I won't lie—it was terrifying at first."
Something in my chest loosened. "Terrifying how?"
"Oh, you know. The vulnerability of it. Knowing someone else is tied to you. That if they hurt, you hurt. That you can't hide from them the way you hide from everyone else." She smiled. "But it becomes the best part of your life if you let it."
"If you let it," I repeated quietly.
"The bond creates foundation," Lyra said, and I heard echoes of Morgana's words. "But what you build on that foundation? That's up to you." She looked between Theron and me. "Some couples fight it. Try to keep distance despite the bond. Usually makes both of them miserable." Her smile widened. "Others lean into it. Let themselves be known. It's scary but worth it."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"Anyway." Lyra squeezed my arm gently. "I just wanted to say congratulations. And if you ever need to talk—about the bond, about being bonded to a warrior, about anything—I'm here."
"Thank you," I said, and meant it. "That's—thank you."
She nodded to both of us and headed toward Hadrian, calling out something that made him laugh.
I watched them. The way Hadrian's whole face lit up when he saw her. The way she touched his arm, casual and comfortable. The inside joke they shared, years of marriage evident in every small gesture.
Easy affection. Comfortable touches. The kind of intimacy that came from choosing each other every single day.
This is what we could become, I thought. Given time. Given trust. Given the courage to let it happen.
"They're good together," Theron said quietly, watching them too.
"They are." I looked at him. At his scarred face and steady eyes and the hope he tried so hard to hide. "Fifteen years."
"Long time."
"Long life, if you let yourself live it." I swallowed. "With someone who makes it worth living."
He turned to face me fully. "Ravenna—"
"I should go," I said quickly, before this conversation could become more than I was ready for. "I didn't mean to interrupt your training."
"You didn't interrupt anything." His voice was soft. "I'm glad you came."
"I'm glad I came too." The words felt significant. True.
I turned to leave, made it three steps before his voice stopped me.
"Ravenna?"
I looked back.
"Thank you," he said. "For coming to watch. For—" He stopped. Started again. "For wanting to see me."
My throat felt tight. "Anytime."
I left before I could say anything else. Anything more honest. Anything that would confirm what Morgana had forced me to admit last night.
That I was falling for him.
That watching him move, seeing him smile, knowing he was mine—it made something in my chest ache in the best possible way.
That when Lyra talked about fifteen years of marriage and easy affection and comfortable touches, I could picture it. With him. With Theron.
And instead of terrifying me, it felt like—
Like hope.
Like the future I'd been so determined to sabotage might actually be worth having.
Like maybe, just maybe, this bonding thing wouldn't destroy me.
I walked back toward the palace, my mind full of sword work and scars and the way Theron had looked at me like I was something precious.
Morgana was right. I was falling.
And the terrifying part wasn't the falling.
It was realizing I didn't want to stop.