Page 24

Great. Another bruise is not what I’d callhelpful advice, but I choke back a retort. Instead, I spring up, forcing my aching limbs to comply. My entire world narrows to the interplay of footwork, the angle of Helrath’s strikes, and my attempts to keep from being thrown like a rag doll.

We continue this brutal dance for a solid thirty minutes. By the end, I’m drenched in sweat, my legs shaking from repeated lunges and sidesteps. Helrath eventually halts, stepping back with a short nod.

“You’re improving,” he says, a begrudging compliment. “Your reflexes are still off, but I’ve seen worse from novices.”

I run a trembling hand across my brow. “I’ll take that as praise.”

He snorts. “Finish with a cooldown. Practice the basic stance transitions. I’ll watch.”

So I do, forcing my tired body through each shift: neutral stance to low guard, low guard to side step, side step to high guard. I recite the sequence mentally, ignoring the fire in my muscles.

Midway through, something makes Helrath’s posture stiffen. His colorless eyes flick behind me, and he lowers his voice. “We have company.”

I glance over my shoulder. Vaelorian stands by the courtyard archway, half-illuminated by the waning sunlight. He regards us with that quiet, inscrutable expression of his, wings held close against his back. There’s a tension in his posture, though I can’t pinpoint its cause.

“Don’t stop,” Helrath mutters. “He probably wants to see how you handle yourself.”

Gritting my teeth, I continue the sequence, refusing to let Vaelorian’s presence rattle me. The knowledge that he’s observing, that he might be critiquing every slip, makes my heart pound.

At the periphery of my vision, I see him step forward. He stops at the boundary of the training space, arms folded, gaze fixed on me. I finish the stance transitions, then take a shaky breath and lower my guard.

Helrath nods curtly. “She’s done for the night,” he calls to Vaelorian. “If you push her more, she’ll be useless tomorrow.”

Vaelorian’s eyes flick to Helrath, then back to me. “Understood.”

I walk over, trying not to look as exhausted as I feel. “Is something wrong?” I ask Vaelorian quietly.

He shakes his head. “I came to check on your progress, but Helrath’s correct. You’re half-dead on your feet.”

I bristle. “I’m fine. Just... tired.”

His lips twitch as though he’s stifling a smile. “Yes, precisely.” Then his expression grows serious. “I want you rested enough to attend an evening session with me in the library. We have to discuss details of the next infiltration.”

I blink, shoulders slumping.More work?“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he confirms.

Helrath rolls his eyes. “Don’t kill her with tasks, Vaelorian. She’s only human.”

Vaelorian’s gaze hardens slightly. “A detail you’ve reminded me of many times. Yet she’s come this far, hasn’t she?”

Helrath grunts, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, then gestures for me to follow Vaelorian. “Fine. Go talk infiltration. Just try not to drag her into a dungeon at sunrise.”

I want to laugh, but I’m too drained. Vaelorian gives me a pointed look, then turns on his heel, expecting me to trail behind him. I incline my head to Helrath in thanks before trudging after Vaelorian, my legs protesting every step.

We exit the courtyard into a narrow corridor that leads back into the fortress interior. The temperature difference is stark—the gloom of the interior halls swallows the last of the day’s warmth. Torches flare against the walls, giving the stones a slick, oil-sheen appearance.

I walk beside Vaelorian in silence for a moment, acutely aware of the weight of his presence. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, as if something weighs on his mind.

Finally, I muster the courage to speak. “So, you want me to start preparing for infiltration. Does that mean you’ve decided on a specific target in the dark elf court?”

He glances down at me, those obsidian eyes reflecting the torchlight. “Yes. But we’ll discuss that in private. It’s complicated.”

An uneasy twinge stirs in my stomach. “Complicated how?”

A wry twist tugs at his lips. “You’ll see. Let’s just say it involves a certain dark elf noble who’s recently gained favor with the monarchy. I suspect he’s toying with experimental magic that could harm my people. We need to confirm it.”

He halts at a crossing of corridors, the library entrance looming ahead. The heavy doors are slightly ajar, revealing golden lamplight and rows of shelves beyond.