The next morning, the training hall of the Scarlet Tower was plunged into a cold gloom, lit only by magical torches that cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. Kael was on his knees in the center of the arena, panting, his body covered in bruises and superficial cuts. His tracksuit was torn in several places, and sweat mixed with blood ran down his face.
Exelia Virell stood before him, impeccable as ever. Her purple cloak rippled slightly, as if moved by a non-existent breeze. Her violet eyes shone with a cruel intensity, and a subtle smile curved her lips.
"Get up, prince," she commanded, her voice as cold as the marble of the tower.
Kael tried to rise, but his legs failed him, and he fell back to the ground with a groan of pain.
"Pathetic!" muttered Exelia, slowly approaching. "You're heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in this world, and you can't even stand up after a few hours of training."
