ibiangoyike

In the kingdom of Valderin, where strength defines one's worth, Elara dreams of becoming a knight—an honor forbidden to women. Determined to defy the odds, she disguises herself as a boy and enlists in the kingdom’s elite knight training.

But her path is anything but easy. Standing between her and her dream is Commander Damien, the kingdom’s strongest warrior and the leader of the knights. Ruthless, disciplined, and unyielding, he sees her as nothing more than a weakling unworthy of his approval. If she wants to survive the brutal trials and earn her place among the knights, she must prove him wrong.

As Elara rises through the ranks, pushing past limits she never imagined, Damien begins to notice something unsettling about this new recruit—an unwavering determination that sets "him" apart. The more they clash, the more the tension between them grows, sparking emotions neither of them can afford to feel.

But war is brewing, and secrets can only stay hidden for so long. When the truth comes to light, will Elara’s strength be enough to protect her dream—or will the betrayal cost her everything, including the man she never meant to fall for?

A Warrior's secret

The training yard was alive with the sounds of sparring—metal clashing against metal, grunts of exertion, and the occasional barked correction from an instructor. The recruits moved in coordinated chaos, each one determined to prove their worth.

Elara stood near the edge, tightening the wraps around her hands. Her mind was still burdened by her father's words, but she forced herself to focus. She couldn't afford to be distracted, not when eyes were always watching.

Kai nudged her shoulder. "You're unusually quiet today."

"I'm always quiet," she muttered, rolling out her shoulders.

"Not when you're about to fight." He smirked, nodding toward the sparring ring. "You usually look like you're plotting someone's downfall."

Elara snorted but didn't respond. Instead, she turned her attention toward the center of the yard, where Damien was finishing a demonstration with another knight. His movements were precise, effortless—the kind that only came from years of discipline.

Just as the match ended, Keshav stepped forward, his eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Elara.

"Elijah," he called. "You and I. Now."

Elara tensed. She knew this would happen eventually.

The recruits around them exchanged glances. Sparring with Keshav was no small challenge—he was brutal, methodical, and never wasted a single movement.

She stepped forward, gripping her wooden training sword. "Rules?"

Elara barely had time to react before he lunged.

Their blades clashed with force, the impact reverberating up her arms. Keshav pressed forward immediately, testing her defenses with rapid, calculated strikes. She barely dodged the last one, twisting her body to avoid a sharp jab aimed at her ribs.

She countered with a feint, shifting her weight at the last second to strike from another angle. But Keshav didn't fall for it. He sidestepped smoothly, knocking her weapon off balance.

Elara grit her teeth, adjusting her grip. He was pushing her—not just physically, but mentally. He was watching her reactions, reading her movements.

She couldn't let him control the fight.

Elara feigned another opening, baiting him into an attack. When he took it, she twisted at the last second, using his own momentum to throw him off. Their weapons locked, and for a moment, they were chest to chest, both straining for dominance.

Then, Keshav did something unexpected.

He shifted his weight, forcing her back. His eyes flickered, studying her up close—too close.

Then, just as quickly, he let go, stepping back as if nothing had happened.

She stumbled slightly before regaining her footing, her heart hammering in her chest.

Elara swallowed, gripping her weapon tighter.

Not just my skill—something else.

A game of blades