A silent game

The fortress was never truly silent, not even in the dead of night. The distant clang of a restless guard's boots, the rustle of leaves beyond the stone walls—Elara had learned to tune out most sounds. But not this one.

A steady, deliberate set of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

She knew who it was before she even turned.

Keshav.

Elara kept her expression neutral as he approached, his presence an unspoken challenge. The dim torchlight cast long shadows across his face, making his unreadable gaze even harder to decipher.

"You're awake," he said. It wasn't a question.

Elara met his gaze. "So are you."

Keshav studied her for a moment, then nodded toward the courtyard. "Come."

She hesitated. "Why?"

"We're sparring."

Elara stiffened. "At this hour?"

His head tilted slightly. "You've been restless since we returned. A fight might clear your mind."

She hated that he was right. And yet, something about the way he said it made her wary.

Still, refusing would only raise suspicion. So, with a sharp exhale, she followed him outside.

The training yard was empty, the air crisp with the scent of damp earth. Keshav moved toward the weapon rack, his movements slow, deliberate.

He picked up a training sword and tossed another to her.

"First to land a clean strike wins," he said.

Elara took a steadying breath and raised her weapon. "Fine."

She lunged first, testing his reflexes. Keshav deflected with ease, barely shifting his stance. His movements were effortless, fluid—calculated.

The clash of steel rang through the empty yard as they circled each other.

Elara adjusted her grip, feinting left before striking low. Keshav blocked it, his expression unreadable.

Then he advanced.

His attacks were precise, not rushed, but relentless. He wasn't fighting to win—he was fighting to see. To gauge her reactions.

A test.

Elara gritted her teeth. She wouldn't let him control the fight.

She parried, stepping into his space, forcing him to adjust. Their blades locked. For a moment, she saw it—that flicker of intent in his dark eyes.

Keshav was waiting for something.

Then, in a sharp, decisive movement, he swept her legs from under her.

Elara hit the ground hard, the impact jarring.

Before she could move, Keshav's blade rested just above her chest.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"You hesitate sometimes," he said, his voice quiet. "But not like the others."

Elara stilled.

It wasn't a compliment.

Keshav pulled back, offering no more words. But the weight of his gaze lingered before he turned and walked away, leaving Elara lying in the dirt.

She exhaled, staring up at the sky, her mind racing.

Keshav was playing a silent game.

And she didn't know if she was winning or losing.