Page 15

Glowing molten metal, engulfed in white flame, had melted against the marble countertop. A square-cut emerald rested beside it, sparkling with the reflection of her flames. It was her favorite color—his, too.

In a precise movement of sparks and flame, both items had lifted into the air as she formed the silver into a ring and nestled the emerald inside.

As an innocent, her tenderhearted gesture was ill-received. A skill that she had possessed as her birthright, secreted away untilshe conjured the courage to reveal it only to those she trusted most. Like Rowlen, and who she thought was also Kaine. Only he didn’t accept it as anything special. No exchange of kind words, no form of understanding. He didn’t fall awestruck at what she had trustingly performed. Only unsettling distrust crossed his face as he jerked back from the counter, staring at her like she had committed the most unforgivable crime in Zyllyryon’s history.

‘I could die because of you! You know what happens to those who harbor Marked Ones. That’s what happened to your parents, isn't it? They died to protect you. You’re going to get me killed.’Kaine’s hand had risen and viciously slapped across her cheek, tearing into soft skin.‘How could you keep something like this from me?’

Maybe if she had left him then, things would have been easier. Then again, he now carried the secret to manipulate her imprisonment. To keep her caged, with nowhere to go. One word and the High King’s army would collect her. And if she acted without preparation, it was certain that her fate would end in Magnelis’s hands.

Rowlen’s eyebrow lifted with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He placed one brown boot behind and leaned forward, bending his knee. The pommel of his sword came to hover near his ear. Leaving the blade to rest on an outstretched arm, the positioning was perfect. There he stood, ready to fight after an hour of respite.

“Fancy knife. I win, it’s mine.”

“You won’t win.” Alora grinned, and he scoffed before she sheathed the obsidian dagger back inside her boot.

Straightening, Alora adjusted her footing and positioned her sword, just as Rowlen had taught her. “You know I could knock you on your back where you stand. I wouldn’t be too eager to have my blade cross yours,” she taunted.

It was true. She had perfected her blade skills over time.

Yet, knowing this, he still scoffed and said, “I’d like to see you try.”

Foolish male pride.She almost laughed. Smugness was something she adored in him. Ravenous excitement glistened in her sapphires against the glow of his taunting blues; their eyes locked with intensity and sharp focus.

The forest fell quiet. Anticipation stirred.

A sharp snap of a dried branch announced Rowlen’s charge. He sliced his sword through the space between them, forcing Alora to defend the advance.

Her sword swung with practiced precision, catching the edge of his blade with an explosion of sparks. Then, with one swift kick to the gut, she pushed him back.

Rowlen lost his footing. Ultimately spinning him backward, he drove his palms into moss where he flipped up to his feet, sword positioned at his front.

“You can do better,” Alora goaded with a wry grin.

“I wouldn’t want to mess up your pretty hair!” He swung again, this time at her feet.

She leapt, barely escaping the edge of his blade to the side of her boot. Before her feet planted back on the ground, Rowlen’s elbow caught the side of her face, and she fell to her knee in the dirt.

“Had enough?” Rowlen dropped his blade in an act of mercy and extended a hand.

Her face stung. A small cut leaked blood before her blue tunic sleeve wiped it away. Rowlen was too kind-hearted for his own good. Perhaps that was why Elysian bestowed upon him healing magic.

Alora’s eyes sparked with feral excitement. “Not even close!”

Rowlen’s sword rushed out of his grip. Turning on him, now engulfed in roaring flames.

As it hung in the air between them, Alora pulled herself to her feet and repositioned her own blade. She advanced as his fiery sword slowly moved to his heaving chest.

Sapphire eyes gleamed with embers as she stalked forward; her porcelain face captured a feline grin. “Got you,” she snickered between breaths.

With a frustrated sigh, he replied, “Yes, it would seem you have.” Rowlen lifted his palms in surrender. “Last time we dueled, you weren’t this skilled. I’m impressed.” And grabbed his sword that had fallen to the moss and sheathed it.

The afternoon sunlight had breached through the canopy above. In the shadows of the forest, Rowlen led them through the brush until they settled in the grasses of a familiar glade.

Without intending to do so, Alora couldn’t contain her excitement. Toeing off her boots, she dipped her aching bare feet into the cool waters of the nearby spring. And she didn’t miss the small chuckle behind her before Rowlen’s feet created gentle rapids around his ankles too.

It was peaceful there.

Almost enough to allow her to forget what waited in Telldaira.