Page 50 of Daughter of the Serpent

“Lesson number one,” Axel said, his voice low, almost a growl. “You will earn your sword.”

Sylvie watched as he picked up her fallen weapon, the blade catching the light for a moment before he tossed it aside. It landed with a soft thud, embedding itself into the damp earth a few feet away. All she could do was stare at him, unsure of how to react. His gaze never wavered from hers, a certain intensity in his eyes that made herpulse quicken. He was close now - close enough that the memory rose of his hands on her skin, tending to her wounds, sending a rush of warmth to her cheeks. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he reached into his leathers and pulled out a wooden shortsword, extending it to her.

“This will be your weapon until I feel you can properly wield steel.”

Sylvie’s throat tightened as she searched his face, her fingers uncertain as they hovered over the wooden blade. “Of course.” She nodded, but she felt the hesitation slice through her, torn between fear and the sharp edge in his eyes.

“Let’s start with your grip.” Moving closer he took her hands, and placed them correctly on the hilt. “Your grip is one of the most important things to master, you should not let anyone knock this from your hand - if you do, you die.”

She nodded as he explained, adjusting her hand accordingly. She could feel the heat of his fingers over hers, the sudden hitch in her breath such a touch elicited.

“Your weapon is an extension of yourself - without it, you’re vulnerable. With your size and limited strength, you can’t yet rely on hand - to - hand combat.”

Sylvie’s cheeks burned as the sudden memory of her failure in the forest rose to the surface - the way she had been powerless, unable to defend herself. If he hadn’t intervened when he did, there was no telling what Baldr’s men would have done to her.

The thought made her stomach tighten.

She had been utterly helpless, save for her magic.

She wasn’t brave.

She wasn’t a warrior.

As she stood on the training field, she found herself wondering -could he make her so?

Her gaze traced the sharp angles of his face as if the answers were written there. But his expression remained as carved stone.

She wanted to trust him - this man from the north, her supposeddeliverance - but reason clawed its way forward, accompanied by a curl of doubt.

“Why are you doing this?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His gaze flicked to hers, cool and impassive. After a moment, a slow exhale left his lips, his jaw tightening as he released her hands.

“Are we here to train, or to speak?”

She stiffened, but he didn’t soften, his bluntness scraping against her bones, sharp and unwelcome.

“I’ve already answered your questions. If the answers weren’t to your satisfaction, that is no concern of mine.” His voice was commanding, unshaken. “Now, focus. The time we have is short.”

Frustration coiled, tightening around her ribs as she studied him, taking in every shift of his body, every flicker of his eyes.

He turned away, striding toward the weapons table. For a moment, he simply stood there, fingers hovering over the hilt of a blade, as if weighing his next words.

“You’re smart not to trust me." he said at last, his voice steady as he reached for a short sword, the metallic scrape of it setting her teeth on edge. "But, I am Hazier.” He studied the length of the blade, measuring its merit. “And the truth is, I have the skills and training you need. So whether you like it or not, I am your best shot of making it through the trials alive.”

Sylvie’s pulse quickened as his words landed, summoning Godvick’s earlier warning - that only a fool would turn away the help of such a warrior. If what he said was true, Axel was the last of his clan, a living memory of a people whose knowledge of magic and war had been lost with time. If anyone held the key to her success, it would be him.

Axel placed the sword down with deliberate care before reaching for one of the other training weapons at the end of the shining row.

“If we’re going to do this, you need to understand something,” Axel said, his tone once again sharp as he picked up a lone dagger, his thumb grazing its edge. “I’m here to teach you how to survive.” Heturned the weapon over in his hand, his eyes hard as steel. “I won’t coddle you. I won’t soften my words. I’m not here to be your friend. What you need right now is someone who won’t withhold the truth.”

She had little doubt that he meant his words.

As he stood there, she could clearly see the danger that lurked in every crook and cranny, every line of his face. It was evident that any gentleness he had shown before in the darkness when he tended to her wounds, had disappeared without trace.

The man before her now was lethal - a weapon honed by years of battle and blood.

And gods- he was riveting.