Chapter 38 – Whispered blades part 2

Clive's POV

The soft hum of lanterns flickering against the wooden walls filled the quiet hotel room. Outside, the celebration was winding down. Beneath the warmth of the sheets, I can feel Nylessa's bare back pressed against my side, her breathing slow. Selvara, tangled in the sheets on the other side, stirred faintly in her sleep. The air was heavy with warmth, spice, and the slow burn of memory.

I could not help but stare at the ceiling.

"You ever think about people you hated so much, it almost made you respect them?" I whispered.

Nylessa cracked an eye open. "Mm. You're brooding again. Should I be jealous?"

I chuckled. "Not this time. I'm thinking of someone who almost killed me… but ended up teaching me something instead someone from my past who I try to forget her name but memory is a bastard and it didn't help she left an impression, her name is Aelira Vos."

Nylessa raised a brow, clearly intrigued. Selvara shifted again, turning toward him in half-sleep.

"That sounds like a story," Nylessa murmured.

I nodded. "Yeah. It was Year Two. Back when I still thought I had it all figured out."

The academy bell rang in two long tolls. Students, mostly nobles or funded apprentices, spilled into the outer courtyard dressed in fine robes marked by house emblems and magical guilds. I stuck out like a sore thumb. No emblem, no funding. Just a travel-worn coat, my twin daggers, and the band around my wrist indicating I was allowed to train without house sponsorship. A mercenary's tag.

"You hear the Hollow sent an invitation to the Vos girl?"

I caught the whisper just as I approached the dueling terrace.

"Aelira Vos? The one from House Thalyss?"

"Mm-hmm. Headmistress let her skip the whole entry phase. She's not even a proper student. Just here to train."

I didn't react. I climbed the stone steps to the top tier of the terrace and found my spot near the lower seating. Training dummies were scattered across the field, a few cracked from overuse.

Then she arrived.

Flanked by two attendants and draped in deep blue robes stitched with enchanted thread, Aelira Vos didn't just walk—she moved like she owned the land beneath her feet. Her silver-blonde hair was tied in an elegant warrior's braid, and her violet eyes didn't look around—they scanned, measured, judged.

Our gazes locked.

I didn't look away.

"That's the Vos girl?" I asked one of the newer recruits, a speckled-faced fellow named Timm.

Timm grinned. "Aye. Daughter of Commander Vos. Killed her first Nue at fifteen. They say she turned down the Arcanum's elite warding unit."

"Great. So she's just a little humble, then." I said knowing I wouldn't have done the same.

Timm snorted.

My academy

The Ardent Hollow didn't believe in grading talent gently. I was in the practical route—meant for scouts, mages-for-hire, guards, and assassins-in-training. They paired me off with brutal frequency.

Of course, as cruel fate will have it, I got paired with Aelira.

She didn't say a word when she stepped onto the circle. Her staff shimmered with frost runes. I rolled my shoulders and drew both blades, twirling them once before sliding into stance.

Aelira's voice was like ice scraping over glass. "Don't blink."

I didn't.

She struck first. It was like fighting a winter storm in the shape of a woman. She weaved spells mid-movement, her attacks calculated and elegant.

I didn't have elegance like she did but I used what I had, speed, unpredictability, and a hunger to prove myself.

We clashed again and again, week after week. Magic against metal. Pride against persistence. The dueling circle became their battlefield, but the whispers became louder.

She thinks I'm holding back

And I think she's taunting me

I felt something towards her, is it hatred

Or worse, a little crush.

I would've denied it, but even he wasn't sure by the third month.

Brenna, a half-elf with too much energy and too many opinions, became one of my closest friends during that year.

"You know what your problem is, Clive?" Brenna said during sparring.

I ducked a blast of water magic. "I'd love to hear it."

"You don't hate her. Not really. You just can't figure her out."

Timm chimed in, bleeding slightly from a nick on his arm. "He wants to figure her out all right."

"Shut up."

Then the mid semester duel came

The announcement was pinned to the board:

Elite Trial – Aelira vs. Clive

It wasn't optional. Aelira had chosen him personally.

"You know I won't hold back."

I warned her.

She looked at him from under her lashes. "That's the point."

"Why me?"

Aelira's mouth curled. "Because you're the only one here who doesn't bow."

And then she walked away.

A week later

The dueling terrace was packed. I tightened my gloves, checking the sigils on my belt. Aelira stood opposite, clad in armor-light robes embroidered with her family crest. We were meant to simulate a high-stakes field mission.

The duelmaster raised his arm. "Begin."

Lightning cracked first. I ducked and rolled, closing the distance. Aelira's staff caught my blade mid-swing. Ice laced his arm.

She whispered, "Slower than last time."

I grunted. "Was trying to give you a chance."

Our fight blurred into arcs of steel, glyphs drawn mid-air, and our souls hellbent on winning—not because of glory, but because she was the only one worth beating.

Every student cheered or gasped. Brenna shouted, "Break her nose, Clive!"

Sweat trickled down my brow. I thought I disarmed her once—she cast a shockwave in return. She pinned me with ice, I shattered it with a flame grenade. Back then, my magic wasn't strong, but I can boast that my creativity was unmatched.

We were both bleeding.

Finally, I feinted left, then kicked her legs out. Aelira hit the stone.

He pressed a blade to her throat.

Silence.

Then applause.

"You won," Selvara murmured.

"Barely."

Nylessa studied him. "You talk about her like she left a scar."

"She did. We weren't friends. But we were equals. And when you finally meet someone who understands that? You don't forget."

I fell silent, the air thick with memory and regret.

Outside, the innkeeper called last bell.