Rough training

The next morning, Nana was woken up by the sound of footsteps—many of them.

Before she could even sit up properly, a swarm of maids entered her room, their movements quick and efficient. They didn't bother greeting her or asking if she was ready. One of them, a tall woman with a strict face, simply said, "The master wants you prepared for training."

Nana rubbed her eyes, still groggy. "Training?"

"You heard me," the maid said briskly. "Get up."

Without waiting for her to respond, they pulled open her wardrobe, bringing out clothes that looked nothing like what she usually wore. Sturdy pants, a fitted top, boots—things meant for movement, for fighting.

One of the younger maids handed her a wet cloth to wipe her face. "Hurry up. You don't want to keep him waiting."

Nana stared at them, overwhelmed.

Just yesterday, she had been trying to survive. Now, she was being told to train. For what? Why?

But she knew better than to argue.

Silently, she took the clothes and started changing, bracing herself for whatever was coming next.

One of the maids grabbed Nana's wrist and led her through the long, winding halls. She didn't say much, just walked quickly, as if she didn't want to be late either.

When they finally stepped outside, Nana's breath caught.

The training ground was huge—wider than she expected, surrounded by high stone walls. Several men were sparring in different corners, the sound of clashing metal filling the air. But her attention locked onto one person.

Kier.

He wasn't wearing his usual royal attire. No heavy cloak, no stiff embroidery. Instead, he was dressed in something simpler, yet somehow more intimidating—dark, fitted clothes that made him look even more dangerous.

And in his hand…

A sword.

Not just any sword. It was sleek and deadly, reflecting the morning sun in a way that made her uneasy.

For the first time, she started to reconsider all of this. Maybe training wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she should have stayed in her room and pretended to be sick.

Kier finally turned to her, his sharp gaze pinning her in place.

"Good," he said, voice a little too cold. "You're here."

The maid beside Nana bowed quickly and left without another word, leaving her alone with Kier.

She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the men fighting around them. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, feeling out of place.

"Why do I have to train?" she finally asked, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be.

Kier turned his gaze to her, his expression was still cold. "Because we can be attacked at any time," he said simply. "Other regions, other villages—they all want power. If you can't fight, you'll die."

Nana swallowed. "But I'm just—"

"Just a child?" he interrupted, tilting his head. "So? Do you think war cares how old you are?"

She looked away. Of course, she knew that. She had already seen what war could do. She had lost everything because of it.

Kier watched her, then threw something at her. Reflexively, she caught it. A wooden sword. Lighter than the real thing, but still solid.

"Pick it up," he ordered.

She frowned. "I am holding it."

"Then do something with it."

She hesitated. "Like what?"

Kier sighed, stepping closer. "Attack me."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me." He tapped the flat of his own blade against his shoulder, waiting. "Come at me."

Nana looked at the sword in her hand. Then at him. Then back at the sword.

She had never fought before. Not like this. Sure, she had wrestled with her siblings back home, but this was different. Kier wasn't playing.

But something in his gaze told her he wasn't going to let her stand there and do nothing.

So, taking a deep breath, she raised the wooden sword and charged.

Kier didn't move. He didn't even blink. Just as she swung at him, he stepped to the side effortlessly, making her miss completely.

Before she could react, he knocked her sword from her hands with a sharp flick of his wrist. It clattered to the ground.

She barely had time to process that before he swept a foot behind her ankle, making her stumble and fall backward into the dirt.

The impact knocked the breath out of her.

Kier towered over her, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder. "Dead," he said flatly.

Nana gritted her teeth, sitting up. "That wasn't fair."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think battles are fair?"

She clenched her fists.

"Get up," he ordered. "Again."

She glared at him but pushed herself to her feet.

"Pick up your sword."

She grabbed it.

"Attack."

This time, she didn't rush in blindly. She stepped carefully, gripping the handle tighter.

Kier gave a small nod, as if approving the change. "Good. But not enough."

And just like that, he moved—too fast for her to react. In a blur, he twisted around her, and before she knew it, she was flat on her back again.

She groaned.

"Again," he said.

She grit her teeth and got up.

And so it went. Again and again, she attacked, and every time, Kier knocked her down effortlessly. It was frustrating. But every time, she learned something. A little more balance. A little more control.

By the time the sun started dipping lower, Nana was covered in dirt, her arms aching. She had never trained so hard in her life.

Kier finally lowered his sword. "That's enough for today."

She barely managed to stay standing, breathing heavily. "Finally," she muttered.

Kier smirked slightly. "You did better than I expected."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it," he said, turning away. "Go clean up. Training continues tomorrow."

Nana watched as he walked off, the sword still resting on his shoulder.

She exhaled deeply, staring at the sky.

This was going to be a long journey.

As Nana walked back to the hall, her legs aching from the brutal training, she caught the hushed whispers of people around her.

"She's the only one he's ever let this close," one voice murmured.

"Who is she?" another asked.

"Could she be his daughter?"

Nana quicken her pace, keeping her gaze forward, pretending not to hear them.

"He hasn't looked at anyone in years," a woman scoffed. "And now, suddenly, a girl appears, and he's spending time with her?"

"She must have done something," another voice chimed in, dripping with jealousy.

A few of the maids glared at her as she passed. Nana could feel their stares burning into her back.

"She's just a kid," one of them muttered. "What does she have that we don't?"

"She must be special," someone else whispered.

Nana swallowed hard, quickening her pace. She didn't feel special. If anything, she felt trapped in a game she didn't understand.

Reaching her room, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her heart pounding.

She didn't know why Keir was keeping her around. But everyone else was starting to notice.

And that scared her more than anything.