CASSIAN POV
Eight hours to turn a servant into a killer.
I've done impossible things before, but this might actually be the death of us both.
I lead Elara to the training yard behind the barracks. It's empty this late at night, lit only by torches that cast dancing shadows across the frozen ground.
"Pick up the sword," I tell her, gesturing to the weapons rack.
She stares at the blades like they're venomous snakes. "I've never—"
"I know. Pick one anyway."
Her hand hovers over several before settling on a short sword—lighter, easier to control. Smart choice, even if she doesn't know why.
She lifts it, and immediately the tip drops toward the ground. The weight surprises her.
"It's heavier than I expected."
"It's meant to cut through armor and bone. It should be heavy." I draw my own blade. "Now, defend yourself."
I swing at her.
Not hard. Not trying to kill. But fast enough that she has to react.
She screams and stumbles backward, nearly dropping the sword.
"What are you doing?" she shouts.
"Teaching. Defend yourself."
I swing again. This time she manages to raise her blade, but I knock it aside easily and stop my sword an inch from her throat.
"You're dead," I say flatly. "Again."
I reset. Attack. She tries to block, but her stance is wrong, her grip too tight. I disarm her in two moves.
"Dead."
"Stop saying that!"
"Then stop dying." I kick her sword back toward her. "Pick it up. We go until you survive one exchange."
Fury blazes in her violet eyes. Good. Anger gives strength.
She grabs the sword and charges at me with zero technique and all rage.
I sidestep, trip her, and she face-plants into the dirt.
"Dead," I say again.
She pushes herself up, spitting snow. "I hate you."
"Join the club. Now get up and try not to die this time."
We go for an hour. I attack from different angles, different speeds. She fails every time. Her arms shake from exhaustion. Blood runs from split knuckles.
But she doesn't quit.
"Why sword fighting?" she gasps during a brief rest. "I have magic. Couldn't I just... burn him?"
"Lord Vex has stolen Starborn magic protecting him. Your fire might not work." I toss her a waterskin. "And even if it does, magic drains you. You collapsed after using it twice. In a real fight, you might get one good blast before you're helpless. Then what?"
She takes a long drink, thinking. "Then I need a backup plan."
"Exactly. Magic is your greatest weapon, but steel is more reliable."
"So I need to learn both."
"In eight hours? No. In eight hours, I teach you three things: how to not die immediately, how to use your magic without passing out, and how to find your opponent's weakness."
"What if he doesn't have a weakness?"
"Everyone has a weakness. You just have to be alive long enough to find it."
I move behind her, adjusting her stance. "Feet wider. Knees bent. The sword is an extension of your arm, not a separate thing."
She tries again, and this time her stance is better. When I attack, she almost blocks correctly.
"Better," I admit.
"I'm still going to die tomorrow, aren't I?"
Her voice is small, scared. The servant girl showing through the warrior mask.
I should lie. Tell her she'll be fine. Give her false hope.
But I promised her truth.
"Probably," I say. "Vex has forty years of combat experience. You have eight hours. The odds are... not good."
"Then why bother teaching me?"
"Because long odds aren't no odds. And because you deserve to go down fighting, not cowering."
She turns to face me, sword still raised. "You really think I can do this."
It's not a question.
"I think you survived twenty-three years as a slave and never broke. I think you unlocked magic that should have killed you and stayed conscious. I think you're stronger than you know." I meet her eyes. "Yes. I think you can do this. The question is—do you?"
She's quiet for a moment, thinking. Then she raises her sword properly for the first time.
"Teach me the weakness thing," she says. "How do I find it?"
"Watch. Listen. Every fighter has patterns, tells. Maybe they favor their right side. Maybe they telegraph their strikes with their eyes. Maybe they have an old injury that slows them down."
"And if I can't see any of that because I'm too busy trying not to die?"
"Then you cheat."
Her eyebrows rise. "Cheat?"
"This isn't a tournament with rules and honor. This is survival. Use everything—magic, steel, dirt in his eyes, whatever it takes." I circle her slowly. "Vex will expect you to fight like a noble. All proper technique and honor. Don't. Fight like a servant. Fight dirty. Fight to win."
Something shifts in her expression. Understanding. Strategy.
"I can do that," she says quietly.
We train for another hour, but this time I teach her the tricks. How to feint. How to use her smaller size as an advantage. How to target joints and weak points in armor.
She's clumsy, awkward, but she learns fast.
Finally, I call a break. "Now the magic. Show me what you can do."
"I don't know what I can do."
"Then let's find out. Close your eyes. Feel the power inside you."
She does. I watch silver light begin to glow beneath her skin, like veins of starlight.
"Now focus it. Don't let it explode—guide it. Picture what you want it to do."
Her forehead creases with concentration. The light grows brighter, gathering in her palms.
Then—flames. Small, controlled, dancing in her cupped hands.
"Good," I breathe. "Now hold it. Don't let it consume you."
She holds for ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Then her knees buckle and the flames die. I catch her before she falls.
"How long did I last?" she asks.
"Thirty seconds."
"That's all?"
"It's a start. In a fight, thirty seconds of magic could mean the difference between life and death."
We practice until her magic stops draining her so quickly. She learns to pull it back instead of letting it burn out. To use short bursts instead of continuous flames.
It's not enough. It's nowhere near enough.
But it's something.
Dawn approaches. The sky lightens from black to gray.
"Time's up," I say quietly.
Elara stares at the horizon, at the coming day. "I'm going to die today."
"Maybe. Or maybe you'll surprise everyone. Including yourself."
We walk back toward the barracks. She's limping from exhaustion, covered in bruises and cuts.
"Cassian?" she says. "If I do die... thank you. For treating me like a person. For not lying to me."
"You're not going to die."
"You said—"
"I said probably. That's not the same as definitely." I stop walking, forcing her to look at me. "Listen to me. Vex is strong and skilled and cruel. But he has one fatal flaw."
"What?"
"He underestimates people. Especially women. Especially Starborn." I grip her shoulders. "Use that. Let him think you're weak and terrified. Then when he drops his guard—strike."
She nods, determination hardening her features.
We reach the barracks just as horns sound from the city gates.
The King is summoning us for the challenge.
"It's time," Seren says, appearing from the shadows. She hands Elara a set of light armor. "Put this on. It won't stop a killing blow, but it might save you from a glancing hit."
While Elara changes, Elder Finn approaches with the rest of the Council.
"The terms are set," he says grimly. "Trial by combat. To the death. If Lady Elara wins, King Aldric withdraws and cannot return to the Free Cities for fifty years. If Lord Vex wins..." He doesn't finish.
"Understood," I say.
We walk to the gates. The entire city has turned out to watch. Thousands of faces, all knowing that their fate depends on a girl who's never fought in her life.
The gates open.
Beyond them, the King's army spreads across the field like a plague. And at the center, a cleared circle of dirt waits.
The arena.
Lord Vex stands in the middle, grinning like a wolf. His armor is black and red, decorated with skulls. Twin swords hang at his sides.
He looks at Elara and laughs.
"The Starcrown princess," he calls out. "I killed your mother. Your father. Your entire family. And now I'll finish the job I started twenty-three years ago."
Elara's hand tightens on her sword. Silver light flickers beneath her skin.
"Remember what I taught you," I whisper. "Watch for the weakness. Fight dirty. Survive."
She nods once.
Then she walks into the arena.
The crowd falls silent. Even the wind seems to hold its breath.
King Aldric raises his hand from his position on horseback. "Let the trial begin!"
Vex draws his swords with a sound like death itself.
"Come, little princess," he taunts. "Let me show you how your mother screamed."
Elara raises her blade.
Silver flames erupt along the steel, turning it into a weapon of pure magic and metal combined.
Vex's smile falters. "What—"
She attacks.
Not with technique. Not with training. But with twenty-three years of rage channeled into a single strike.
Their blades meet with a sound like thunder.
And the real fight begins.
But as Vex pushes her back, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
His swords aren't normal steel.
They're glowing with black fire
—stolen Starborn magic, twisted and dark.
The same magic that killed Elara's mother.
And I just sent her to face it alone.