Genevive's eyes darted sideways, mind racing for an escape route—anything.
But before she could even take a breath, Rovan lunged.
Her movements were a blur, sharp, practiced, lethal. Genevive barely raised her dagger before Rovan's twin blades clashed against it, The first swing of dagger forced Genevive to block clumsily, the impact jolting her arm. She tried to retaliate, but it was useless. Yes Genevive could fight but she was no where near Rovan's fighting skills, Rovan moved like someone who had been fighting since birth, her moves were precise, efficient, merciless.
Within seconds Genevive's dagger was knocked out of her hand. Rovan caught it mid-air, twisted Genevive's wrist, and slammed her against the wall, pinning her there with both blades crossed at her throat.
Just then, armed men rushed into the room.
The enemy soldiers formed a circle, their weapons raised; Genevive stood trapped at its center.
"C'mon, my people," Rovan sighed dramatically as she stepped back, releasing Genevive. "She's so fragile. How could she slip off so easily?"
Her voice carried disappointment, even boredom.
Silence followed, until a booming voice answered, a deep rumbling voice.
"Perhaps she cast a spell on one of us," said a huge man emerging from the shadows__Brakkon Stonejaw
He leaned against the wall, taking a loud, crunchy bite from an apple, his eyes settling accusingly on the guard tasked with watching Genevive earlier.
"Oh?" Rovan's brows lifted, excitement colouring her voice as she turned to the guard.
"Well, that would explain the failure. Because I'd like to believe my men aren't that useless, eh?"
Her voice dripped with mocking sweetness.
The guard's head dropped further, shame and terror mixing on his face.
Rovan carried on,
"Although as fascinating as the whole spell theory is, I'm not exactly bothered about the how."
Her eyes slid back to Genevive, her tone cooling.
"There's only just one thing I'm actually interested in."
Her smile thinned.
Without looking, Rovan flicked her wrist.
A dagger shot across the room and buried itself deep in the guard's chest.
Genevive's breath hitched. She tried to hide the shock, keep her posture fearless… but Rovan saw it.
She always did.
A satisfied smirk curved her lips.
"Take him to her cell," she ordered.
Two men hauled the dying guard away.
Then Rovan turned back to Genevive.
"I expect you to heal him, Princess. Right after you—"
Without warning, she drove the second dagger straight into Genevive's torso.
The air left Genevive's lungs in a sharp gasp. The pain was sharp, stunning, For a moment she hadn't even realized what had happened until her body finally caught up.
Rovan stepped closer, still holding the hilt, pushing the blade slowly, deliberately deeper.
Genevive's breath came in shivers.
"I know that look," Rovan whispered, leaning in.
"You thought your life was worth something because I've kept you breathing all this time." she smirked "Must be quite the shock" she added as a faint, cruel smile tugged at her lips
"Well, heres the truth… I have nothing to lose."
She tilted her head, inches from Genevive's face.
If you heal, that simply confirms what I need to know… and helps my future plans."
She tilted her head, voice dropping to a whisper.
"And if you die?"
Her smile widened.
"You die for good. Either way, I win."
She pulled the dagger out, just a fraction, slow enough to make Genevive's breath hitch.
"Now show me what a miracle looks like… princess."
---
Beside a small lake in the woods, Asvran crouched, washing his face.
Cold water dripped from his jaw to his arm as he scrubbed away the dried blood along his palm.
His expression tightened.
The cut… still hadn't healed.
He hissed softly. This was new, troublingly new.
His body, once quick to mend, now felt sluggish. Heavy.
His strength wavered today in strange, unpredictable ways. Even his senses—usually razor sharp—felt muted, the whole day just felt... Off.
The wound was from a simple spar he had during training session that had ended more than thirty minutes ago.
Yet it still bled faintly.
Nothing like before he met the princess.
His chest tightened at the thought. He didn't understand what she had done to him — or worse, what he had allowed. Ever since their encounter, a new warmth had settled beneath his skin, soft and distracting… almost too human. And with that warmth came weakness.
Elowen's Pov:
I watched him quietly from behind a large tree, heart thudding.
I wondered what was going through his mind as he squatted there in that daze. Somehow, I had found my way back to the Sanctum Knight grounds. Now that I knew this hidden path no one else seemed aware of, slipping in felt almost… natural.
Or perhaps it wasn't the place that drew me back.
Perhaps it was him.
Asvran.
It sounded absurd even in my own head, but something in me felt pulled toward him, toward his silence, his sadness, his strength. I wanted to understand him… maybe even help him.
Something about him felt... like a wounded creature everyone feared but no one cared to tend.
Maybe it was the tragedy of his life that haunted me. I still couldn't understand how Berevreth dared to call that mercy. Or how the Church justified treating him as less than human simply because he was half demon. They could have at least honored his human half.
But demons clearly had choices. They weren't mind less, they decided who they wanted to be. And Since that is so, then shouldn't they be given a chance?
My thought drifted to the shadow standing beside him. Dangerous, yes—but also strangely harmless, like it meant no threat unless provoked.
A small smile tugged at my lips as a thought struck me.
Perhaps I was finally starting to understand my gift — awkward as it felt to admit. The past few days had opened my eyes more than all the years before them. I'd begun to sense the difference between good and wicked more sharply, as if I could feel a person's energy beneath their skin. Maybe I'd always had this ability, even as a child, I could tell when someone wasn't to be trusted. I simply never recognised it for what it was.
But now…
I glanced back at Asvran. Maybe I could try to read the energy around him — good or evil.
I drew a long breath and shut my eyes, focusing. So far, I had never felt unsafe around him. In truth, I felt the safest when he was near, more than with any guard or priest or knight. Warmth pooled quietly in my chest at that thought.
In a world as dangerous as this one… I believe with him, I would feel the most—
I froze.
Something sharp sliced through the air and struck the tree beside my neck with a violent thunk.
"Reveal yourself."
The voice was low, sharp, and unmistakable.
Asvran.
He sounded so close, far too close. I had no idea how he'd reached me in less than a heartbeat, and I had even less time to think about it before panic seized me completely. My eyes stayed shut, my legs trembling, my whole body going rigid.
And then I felt it.
A sharp object pressed against my neck.
My breath hitched. I'd never been face to face with a threat like this before, so I couldn't tell exactly what it was without looking… but the cold bite of metal told me enough.
A blade.
Pointed straight at my throat.
I sucked in a shaky gasp, instinctively tilting my head back.
What? Is he actually trying to kill me? My mind spun.
I heard footsteps step around me, slow and delibrate, until he stood in front of me. I forced my eyes open, terrifier, and there he was.
Asvran.
At first, his glare was sharp but then he recognised me. His expression faltered just slightly. And yet he didn't lower the blade. His eyes stayed cold, locked on mine, blade still pointing at my neck.
"Why are you here again?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.
My stomach twisted. Was he serious? Was he really going to kill me?
I glanced around the woods—empty, silent. No one would hear me scream.
Maybe Berevreth was right. Maybe I should have stayed far, far away.
"I—I…" My voice cracked embarrassingly, shaking as I tried to form words.
"I…"
Just then, he withdrew the blade.
Just lowered it, as if he hadn't even realised he'd been holding it to my neck.
My breath rushed out in relief—until I looked past him.
There i saw His demon shadow, unlike a while ago it wasn't beside him anymore.
It stood far behind him, silent, unmoving, watching.
A deep confusion crawled through me.
If his demon is way over there… then Who exactly was about to kill me?
Before I could think further, he turned and began to walk away.
"You!" I yelled as realization stuck me
"you were going to harm your princess!" I shouted after him, trying to stand, but my legs chose betrayal at the worst moment. They gave out completely, and I fall onto the ground__miserably by the way.
At this point, my dignity... what little remained in the presence of this man... Is way beyond saving."
Now that I think of it, perhaps I'm far more fragile than I believed. I used to think that aside from Berevreth, I was one of the toughest ladies in the kingdoms.
All the sneaking I'd done, climbing out of windows, galloping on horseback like a runaway thief, sneaking past guards, scaling walls, getting into places I most definitely wasn't allowed to be—honestly, I thought I was impressive.
But after everything that's happened lately?
I've been nothing but a frightened little mouse.
A jumpy, panicky, near-crying mess.
Some warrior princess I am.