DARN SHADOW FAE

The sound of swords filled the air as Reagan and I fought with each other, the metallic clash of steel resonating through the cool evening air. The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the training ground, but there was still enough light to see the determination in Reagan's eyes as he pressed his attack.

My breathing was harsh with each movement but I couldn't help but I noticed that I was getting faster too.

"You're getting faster," Reagan remarked, his voice steady despite the exertion.

He didn't even look tired or break a sweat. He was training with me shirtless, his bronze skin on display but that he still had a scarf over his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

Reagan stepped forward his sword met mine with a resounding clang, the force of his strike sending vibrations up my arm. I grit my teeth and pushed back, refusing to let him overpower me.

But Reagan was relentless. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, a stark contrast to my own. Every time I thought I had an opening, he would counter with a speed that left me breathless. Yet, I wasn't discouraged. If anything, it drove me to push harder, to meet him blow for blow.

I lunged forward, aiming for his side, but he anticipated my move, deflecting my blade with a flick of his wrist. Before I could recover, he was already coming at me from another angle, forcing me to pivot on my heel to block the next strike. The metallic clash was deafening, and I could feel the strain in my muscles, the sweat beading on my forehead.

"Don't overextend," he warned, his voice carrying a hint of something that might have been approval. He was right, of course. My stance was off, leaving me vulnerable. But I was learning, and each mistake was a lesson etched into my bones.

Reagan stepped in closer, our swords locked between us. "Focus," he said, his eyes piercing into mine. "You're doing well, but you need to control your breathing. Stay calm."

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The moment I did, he broke away, swinging his sword in a wide arc that I barely managed to deflect. He was testing me, pushing me to see how far I could go before I faltered.

I wasn't about to let him down.

We continued to spar, the sound of our swords filling the air in a relentless rhythm. There were times when he would stop, just before his blade could nick me, pointing out where I'd gone wrong or offering advice on how to improve. Each correction was sharp, direct, but never discouraging. Reagan's style was about honing my skills, not breaking my spirit.

"You are a fast learner, Aneesa. You did well!" Reagan praised, his voice carrying that unmistakable hint of pride. I couldn't help but feel a swell of warmth at his words, even though I tried to keep my expression neutral. If my skin weren't so dark, I'd probably be as red as a tomato right now.

"Thank you!" I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. "It's all because I also have a good teacher."

Reagan snorted as he sheathed his sword, the sound of the blade sliding into the scabbard punctuating the moment. "Somehow, I doubt that," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You're a survivor, Aneesa. This was all you."

"Neesa," I blurted out, feeling a sudden urge to correct him. Reagan looked at me, cocking his head slightly as if considering my words. I swallowed, suddenly nervous. "That's what my friends call me, and I like it as well, so you can call me Neesa—unless, of course, you prefer Aneesa, which I'm just realizing I should have asked which one you prefer, Neesa or Aneesa?"

Oh no, when did I become such a bumbling mess? And why did this always happen when I was around him?

I mentally kicked myself, hoping I didn't sound as awkward as I felt. Reagan was staring at me with that intense gaze of his, the one that always made me feel like he could see straight through me.

"Neesa," he repeated slowly, as if testing the name out. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. "Alright then, Neesa it is."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and managed a weak smile. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, though I wasn't sure if it was from the training or the way Reagan had said my name. Neesa. It sounded so different coming from him, like it meant something more.

I cleaned off the training ground, grabbing the weapons and returning them to their posts. The sun was almost gone, its last rays casting a deep orange glow over the courtyard. We needed to hurry before the guards came out for their patrol. I could already feel the tension creeping up on me, knowing we were cutting it close.

As I bent down to pick up the last of the training swords, something caught my eye. I raised my head and looked up at the prince's window. We were directly under it, the tall stone structure looming above us. For some reason, Reagan had requested we train outside today, rather than in the prince's usual secret underground chamber. I hadn't questioned it at the time—I could always use the fresh air—but now, with the prince's window just overhead, I couldn't help but wonder if there was another reason behind Reagan's choice.

I turned to stare at Reagan, who was calmly sheathing his sword, seemingly unbothered by our surroundings. "You know, I haven't seen Corion since that day," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "Is everything okay with him?"

Reagan paused, his hand lingering on the hilt of his sword. He stared at me with that unnerving intensity of his, not answering right away. He just cocked his head slightly, as if weighing something in his mind.

Unable to take the silence any longer, I snapped, "What?"

"The prince," Reagan said, his voice steady but carrying a weight I couldn't quite place. "You care for him?"

I spluttered in response, caught off guard by the question. "Care for him? Please, like I've forgotten how he humiliated me and tried to eat me after. What the hell is he, anyway?" I crossed my arms over my chest, more to hide the discomfort than anything else.

Reagan's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were debating whether or not to tell me. His silence stretched on, making my heart race in anticipation. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

"Corion is a hybrid," Reagan said simply, his tone carrying the weight of a thousand untold secrets.

I stared at him, trying to process the word he'd just spoken. "A hybrid? What does that even mean?"

"An offspring born of two creatures," Reagan explained, his voice steady as if this was just another lesson. "One a werewolf, and the other a…"

"Vampyre!" I finished, my eyes widening in realization.

Reagan gave me a single nod in acknowledgment. "That's what the prince is, half werewolf and half vampyre."

I frowned, still trying to make sense of it all. Corion didn't look like the vampyres I'd heard about, apart from the ethereal beauty they all seemed to possess. But then again, most supernatural creatures had that otherworldly allure. Still, something about Corion didn't fit the vampyre mold. I hadn't been around many vampyres, but I knew they were supposed to go crazy at the sight of blood.

That wasn't what happened during the party. If Corion was a vampyre, he should have partaken in the blood ritual.

Heck, he should have gone mad at the sight of all that blood, but he didn't do any of that. If anything, he protected me. The memory of him shielding me from the chaos that night flickered through my mind, a stark contrast to the image of him losing control afterward.

He did go crazy afterward though, I thought to myself, instinctively rubbing my neck where his teeth had grazed. I wondered what had set him off.

"He has been suppressing the vampyre part of him for so long," Reagan spoke, his voice startling me out of my thoughts. I realized then that I might have spoken my thoughts out loud. "So he tends to behave like that, forgetting his other self, having no recollection of anything or anyone. The only thing in his mind is how to satisfy his bloodlust."

"Wait a minute, satisfy his bloodlust?" I asked, a frown creasing my brow. "You're saying it like he doesn't take blood?"

Reagan's gaze darkened, and I could see the hesitation in his eyes. "He doesn't."

"Why?" I asked with a frown.

"That's not my story to tell." Reagan stated and I knew that was all he was going to offer me, "You should head back to your room!"

Right! I thought to myself as I began heading towards the secret passage that led to the servants quarters.

"And Neesa?" Reagan called halting me in my steps.

I turned to look at him an expectant expression on my face.

"Stay away from Corion, for your own safety and his." Reagan said and before I could ask what he meant, he disappeared in a swirl of dark shadows.

Darn shadow fae!