The sound of sparring slowed.
Blades paused mid-swing. Grunts and commands faded into murmurs as one by one, the soldiers turned. Silence settled across the training grounds.
Lara had arrived at her usual spot to watch the training.
But this time things were different, she was the king's chosen.
She was dressed in the court's issued training garb, fitted leather trousers, sturdy boots, and a plain tunic that allowed movement.
Whispers rippled through the warriors like a breeze.
"That's the king's chosen…"
"Why is she dressed like that?"
"Is she going to train today maybe?"
She stood at the edge of the training grounds, waiting for Thornak and trying not to cause any problems.
"Lara," Selene's voice rang out. "The King's chosen pretending to be one of us?"
Lara tried not to flinch.
It was customary, apparently, for newcomers to prove themselves, especially if they were to stand anywhere near the throne.
Selene stepped forward, her violet cloak trailing behind her like royalty because that's obviously what she thought she was. Royalty by proximity. By entitlement. Lara was none of those things.
She tossed her a wooden staff with a smirk. "Come on then. Let's see what the King's little stray is made of."
The staff hit the ground near her feet with a dull thud. She didn't pick it up. Not immediately. She was only here to train with Thornak and not to spar with Selene.
Selene's smirk told her this wasn't a challenge born of fairness, it was bait, meant to draw her into a fight she didn't ask for. The eyes watching from the training yard walls were already hungry for blood.
It wasn't about training. It was about spectacle. About reminding her, and reminding them, that she was a mistake in this palace.
"I don't want to fight you," Lara said quietly.
Selene stepped in closer. "Of course you don't. Because you can't. Because you're weak. You may have fooled Thornak with your wide eyes and trembling voice, but I see you, Lara. You're a nobody, playing queen in a palace made for people born with power."
She leaned in and whispered. "Tell me, does it humiliate you more that he pities you, or that he hasn't touched you once since you arrived, although he has always been in my bed?"
The court didn't hear that part.
I bent to pick up the staff.
The crowd responded with soft gasps and murmurs, like jackals circling a carcass. I didn't grip the weapon for strength. I gripped it because I refused to let her see me as weak.
Selene circled me now, her own staff light in her hand, her smile cruel. "They say Thornak is in love with you. A pretty story, Lara. But pity isn't loving. And love doesn't linger in cold beds."
She spun, catching me in the ribs with the butt of her staff. I stumbled back, the pain was sharp
"Is this who the Lycan King favors?" she mocked, arms wide. "A girl who can't even hold a weapon properly? What were you before you came here, Lara? A farmer's daughter? A kitchen servant?"
"Enough," I said under my breath, low and shaking.
"What was that?" she grinned.
"I said enough." Lara met her eyes for the first time, and something in her shifted.
"Oh, I see," she said, stepping closer. "You still think this is a story where you're the hidden princess and I'm the jealous noble. But let me tell you how this ends, Lara. You lose. And Thornak… he forgets he ever had any feelings for you."
Lara threw the staff away.
"Its not your decision to make," she retorted, surprising herself.
Selene's smirk widened. "You think Thornak's feelings will last? Men like him don't keep broken toys, Lara. When he's done with you, you'll be tossed aside."
Lara did not flinch. She tilted her head, studying Selene as one might examine an insect beneath glass. "Curious, Lady Selene… I have been here but a short while yet you have been obsessed with me since I arrived. Makes me wonder… are you worried Thornak will forget me, or that he already forgot you?"
The soldiers nearby exchanged glances, a ripple of suppressed laughter moving through them.
Selene's smirk faltered. "Careful you stray."
"Oh, I am," Lara said. "Because the only thing weaker than a jealous woman is one who hides her fear behind insults." She took a single step closer. "You work so hard to prove I do not belong, Lady Selene… yet from where I stand, it is you who seems out of place."
Selene's eyes flashed. In one swift motion, she raised her hand to strike...
"Enough."
Thornak's voice boomed as he stepped into view. His presence loomed at the edge of the training circle, and the soldiers instinctively straightened.
His gaze lingered on Selene for a long, tense moment before he spoke.
"Thank you for the lesson, Lady Selene," he said evenly. "From this point forward, I'll be training Lara myself."
A faint, mocking smile tugged at the corners of Selene's mouth, but her fingers curled so tightly at her sides her knuckles whitened. She lowered her hand, dipped her head in a sharp, controlled bow, and turned away. The air around her seemed colder as she passed, her silence saying more than words ever could.
Lara didn't move until Selene was gone.
Thornak's eyes found Lara instantly and a faint smirk spread across his face as he approached her.
No one dared speak now.
"She's here to train with me." Thornak said, voice carrying across the grounds like a warning.
All the warriors continued to observe them.
Lara gave no reaction. She merely smiled.
And just like that, the mood shifted.
He gave her a half-smile, tossing her a staff.
"I want to see what you're made of," he said. "No holding back."
Lara caught it with both hands.
They circled each other, tension in the air. Thornak moved first, quick, but measured. Lara blocked the blow. He stepped in close, twisting to catch her off guard, but she dropped low under his arm and struck at his side with such speed that made his brow lift in surprise.
"Not bad," he muttered, lunging again.
Their staff clicked sharply, rhythm building. She was smaller, lighter, but moved with a fluid grace that threw off his tempo. He landed a few hits, soft taps to her shoulder or side, but she never backed down. Her footwork was instinctive, her strikes clean.
Warriors stood in silence, watching the King and his chosen clash in perfect rhythm, not like adversaries, but as if they had done this before, in another life.