(Night Before Eva's Training)
Eva sat by the window, carefully polishing her sword, the faint glow of the lamp catching on the blade. Her hands moved with slow precision, as if the steel itself could sense her determination.
A soft knock echoed through the quiet room.
"Princess…" a familiar voice called.
Eva's eyes lit up instantly.
"Kyel…" she whispered, rising to her feet.
She opened the door, and there he stood, a warm smile on his lips.
"Princess, I'm bac—"
Before he could finish, Eva was on her toes, one hand resting against his neck as she leaned close.
"Honey, I missed you so much."
Kyel's arms wrapped around her waist effortlessly, lifting her from the floor.
"I missed you too," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
He glanced at the sword on the table.
"What were you doing?"
"I was preparing for tomorrow," Eva replied.
"Is something special tomorrow?" he asked, brow arched.
Eva hesitated for a heartbeat, then took his hand.
"Honey, there's something I want to tell you."
"I'm listening."
She told Kyel everything—her decision, her plan, and who would be teaching her.
"So… you want to learn swordsmanship?" Kyel confirmed.
"Yes."
"And the Emperor will teach you?"
"Yes."
"And… what do you want me to do about it?" His tone was curious, not accusing.
"Kyel, you're not going to stop me?"
"Stop you? But why would I?"
"I thought you would be angry because I didn't ask you."
"Princess," he said with a soft chuckle, "you don't have to ask for my permission. You can do whatever you want to do."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'll support you no matter what."
Eva's lips curved into a relieved smile as she threw her arms around him.
"You are the best husband."
Kyel smiled into her hair, hugging her back just as tightly.
---
(The Day of the Training)
The morning sun spilled across the courtyard, glinting off the blade in Eva's hand. She stood ready, her fingers tightening on the hilt, as Eyan faced her with an unreadable expression.
"Eyan… where should I start from?" she asked.
"Eva, first tell me—how's your stamina?"
"It's… weak."
A low laugh escaped him. "I see you're very honest."
"Then the first thing you need to do is build your stamina."
"How?"
"You should start eating more."
"But I already eat a lot," she protested.
Under his breath, Eyan muttered, "No, you don't."
"You said something?"
"Nothing." His lips twitched, but his tone turned firm again. "You need to eat a lot more healthy food—things that will boost your stamina."
"Okay."
"Good. Now, pick up your sword."
Eva lifted the real steel blade in her hand.
"Eva—" Eyan's voice cut through sharply. "Not the real one. The wooden sword."
"Oh." She set the blade aside and took the wooden one instead.
"Now," he continued, "let's see how well you can swing it. I'll attack you, and you have to block my strike."
"Okay…"
Eyan stepped forward, moving as slowly as possible. But instead of meeting his swing with her sword, Eva lifted her bare hand to block.
His eyes widened—then hardened.
"Are you out of your mind?" he barked.
Eva flinched at the sudden sharpness in his voice.
"Why would you try to block it with your hand?"
"I was just…" Her voice faltered, her throat tightening. Sadness pooled in her eyes.
Eyan's sternness melted instantly. "I'm sorry for shouting at you… but you shouldn't have done that." His gaze dropped briefly to her hand. "You could have gotten hurt."
She nodded silently.
"Alright… let's try again," he said more gently.
Another small nod from her.
Eyan attacked again.
This time, Eva managed to block it—though the force still made her knees tremble.
"Good…" His eyes glinted, the faintest curve of a smirk tugging at his lips.
Eva pulled her sword back, unsure whether to feel proud or terrified.
"Now, Eva—" Eyan stepped closer, lowering his blade. "You attack me."
"Me?" She blinked, startled.
"Yes."
Her grip tightened on the hilt. "Alright…" She lunged forward, her sword slicing toward him.
But Eyan blocked it with almost lazy ease. The impact, however, was no small thing for her—pain shot through her wrist.
"Aww…" she winced, pulling back instinctively.
Eyan's expression instantly changed. "Are you alright?"
She cradled her wrist in her other hand, biting her lip.
"Let me see," he said firmly, already reaching for her gloves. She tried to pull away, but he caught her hand and slid the leather free.
Her skin was flushed red, the faint imprint of the sword's grip visible.
"You need to see the physician," he said, his voice carrying no room for argument.
"No, Eyan, I'm fine," she insisted, avoiding his gaze.
"Your hands are red, Eva. You need to get treated first." His tone softened, but it still left no space for refusal.
Before she could protest again, he took her by the wrist—carefully, this time—and led her toward the physician's quarters, his pace brisk.