Caelan's POV
The training yard smelled like sweat and dust. It was usually my favorite mix. Usually.
But the air was thick with something heavier today.
Tension. Like a storm waiting to break over our heads.
I tightened my grip on the practice sword and forced myself to focus on her. Aisla.
She stood right opposite me with her hair clinging to her damp face as she squared her stance just like I'd taught her. Her hands shook a little as she blocked my attack, but she did not back down. She never did.
"Again," I told her, lifting my blade.
With her jaw set, she looked determined. And that is what makes her so beautiful.
She attacked while I was still admiring her face, and I forgot to move. My blade clashed with hers just in time, and the shock traveled up my arm. She didn't stop. Instead, she twisted her blade and pressed harder.
"Better," I said. I let her push me back a step before sweeping her legs out and knocking her onto the sand.
