Chapter 4

Two days had passed since my first council meeting, and already, the weight of Praylor's court was pressing down on me. Whispers followed me wherever I went, some barely concealed, others spoken openly. The nobles were watching, waiting, hoping I would fail. And Lucian—he was watching too, though his gaze was unreadable, his presence a constant reminder that I was playing a game with no room for missteps.

So when I was summoned to the palace's private training grounds, I expected another political test. What I did not expect was to find Lucian waiting for me, a sword in hand.

I stopped at the entrance, arching a brow. "Are we to settle our marriage with blades now?"

Lucian's mouth twitched, but his amusement didn't reach his eyes. "If that were the case, I imagine you'd be the first to strike."

I crossed my arms, glancing at the weapons rack beside him. "I assume there's a reason you dragged me here."

"The court sees you as weak," he said, tossing me a wooden training sword. I caught it easily, testing its weight. "A fragile thing to be pitied or dismissed. If they knew you could wield a blade, they might rethink underestimating you."

I ran a hand along the worn hilt, considering. "And what do you think?"

Lucian studied me for a moment before speaking. "I think you want them to see you as a threat. And I think you should give them reason to."

Something in my chest tightened. I had spent my life fighting for my place, proving that I was more than a noble's daughter, more than a pawn to be played. And now, standing in front of Lucian, I found myself wanting to prove it again—not just to the court, but to him.

I stepped forward, raising my sword. "Then stop talking, Your Highness, and fight."

Lucian smirked, but he didn't hesitate. He moved first, a quick, testing strike that I easily deflected. The wooden swords clashed, the sound echoing through the courtyard. He was fast—faster than I expected—but I had not trained in the rough fields of Hull for nothing. I dodged his next swing and countered with one of my own, forcing him back a step.

"Not bad," he murmured. "But you hesitate."

I narrowed my eyes. "And you telegraph your strikes."

Lucian's next attack was sharper, more precise, forcing me to move quickly. We circled each other, neither yielding, each strike a challenge, a test. My heart pounded, my muscles burned, but I refused to stop. I would not be the first to surrender.

Then, in a move so quick I barely saw it coming, Lucian disarmed me. My sword clattered to the ground, and before I could react, he stepped forward, closing the space between us. I refused to back away, even as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin.

"You let yourself get distracted," he murmured, his voice low.

I swallowed, refusing to acknowledge the way my pulse quickened. "Or perhaps I wanted to see if you would take advantage."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Then you're more dangerous than I thought."

A long beat of silence stretched between us. I could hear my own heartbeat, the distant hum of the city beyond the palace walls. Then, slowly, Lucian stepped back, breaking whatever moment had settled between us.

"Again," he said, tossing me another sword. "You still have much to learn."

I caught it, gripping the hilt tightly. "Then teach me."

And so we fought again, and again, long after the sun began to set, until I could no longer tell whether we were adversaries or something else entirely.

As the last rays of daylight disappeared beyond the palace walls, Lucian called for a stop. "That's enough for today," he said, his breathing only slightly uneven. "You did better than I expected."

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, sweat dampening my brow. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Lucian tilted his head, watching me in that way that always made my skin prickle. "You should."

Silence settled between us once more, heavier now. The night air was cool against my flushed skin, but the heat from our sparring still lingered. I took a slow step back, only to find my legs weaker than I'd expected. Lucian noticed immediately, his gaze sharpening.

"You're exhausted."

"I can handle it," I shot back, but even as I spoke, my balance wavered slightly.

Before I could stumble, Lucian was there, his grip firm on my arm, steadying me. His hands were calloused, warm, and I hated that I noticed.

"I can walk," I muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I don't doubt it," he replied smoothly. "But I'd rather not explain to the court why their future queen collapsed in the training grounds."

I wanted to argue, but my pride only stretched so far. With a quiet sigh, I allowed him to guide me toward the entrance of the training yard. His hold on me was light, yet unwavering, and for the first time since our marriage had been arranged, I realized something unnerving.

Lucian Velthorne was not just my enemy. He was also my equal.