A knight's resolve

Elara didn't sleep that night.

She lay on her cot, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. Keshav knew. He hadn't exposed her, but the fact that someone else carried her secret was enough to set her nerves on edge.

Why hadn't he told anyone?

Why was he keeping it to himself?

The uncertainty gnawed at her.

By the time dawn arrived, she forced herself up, shaking off the exhaustion. She had to focus—one slip-up, and it wouldn't just be Keshav who knew.

The knights were already gathered in the yard when she arrived, stretching and preparing for the day's training.

Kai spotted her first, grinning as he leaned on his sword. "You look like you got in a fight with a nightmare."

"More like a sleepless night," she muttered.

Before he could reply, Damien strode into the yard. As always, the air shifted the moment he arrived. The recruits straightened, their quiet murmurs dying instantly.

Elara's gaze flickered toward him.

He was wearing his usual dark armor, his black cloak draped over one shoulder. His presence alone demanded attention—stern, composed, and unreadable as ever.

"Pair off," Damien ordered, voice sharp and efficient.

Elara turned to Kai, but before she could speak, another voice cut in.

"Elijah."

She turned, finding herself face-to-face with Damien.

Her pulse stuttered.

He rarely called on her directly.

"You'll train with me today," he said.

The other recruits exchanged glances, some looking borderline envious. Training with Damien wasn't just a challenge—it was an honor.

Elara swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, sir."

They stepped into the ring.

Damien wasted no time. The moment she raised her weapon, he attacked.

The force behind his strikes was controlled but unforgiving. He was testing her, and she knew it. Unlike Keshav's precise, calculated approach, Damien's movements were raw power, tempered by discipline.

Elara barely managed to block his blows, her arms vibrating from the impact.

"Your footwork is sloppy," he said, sidestepping her counterattack with ease.

She gritted her teeth and adjusted, planting her stance more firmly.

He lunged again. She dodged. Barely.

Damien didn't slow. He moved with relentless speed, and she knew—he wasn't going easy on her.

Good.

Elara fought back with everything she had, pushing herself to keep up. Every time she thought she had an opening, he was already two steps ahead.

And then—

He feinted, forcing her into a defensive block before pivoting sharply.

Elara gasped as she felt her balance slip.

She barely registered the moment she lost her footing. The next thing she knew, Damien had caught her wrist and yanked her forward, using her own momentum to send her crashing against his chest.

For a second, everything went still.

Her breathing was uneven, her face inches from his armor. She felt the strength beneath it, the solid warmth of his presence.

Too close.

Elara willed herself to move, but she couldn't—not with Damien's gaze locked onto hers, unreadable and unwavering.

The silence stretched, thick with something she couldn't name.

Then, Damien released her.

"Again," he said.

Elara exhaled sharply, stepping back and gripping her weapon tighter.

She wouldn't lose focus again.