Page 127 of Where Darkness Falls

The corner of Emyr’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t actually smile. Even after our heart-to-heart, he’s distant, maintaining the same cruel, general demeanor during our training sessions.

He spins his sword in rhythmic motions. They are so fluid and sharp that my eyes have a hard time keeping up with how it twists and twirls through the air. “Whenever you’re ready, Rosey,” he says.

Holy Celestae…

Who knew that twirling a sword could look like an artful dance?

The way he rotates it so gracefully definitely does.

His muscles are flexing against the sleeves of his tight training tunic?—

I cough, clearing my throat.

Stay focused, Maeva.

I pick up the sword with a shaky hand, pointing the tip of my blade at his chest. “Wheneveryou’reready, Prince,” I say in a sing-song voice.

He smirks for a fraction of a second, before his gaze turns icy and calculating. As I anticipate his first move, he lunges for me, thrusting his sword over and over again in quick succession. I use my blade to deflect his attacks, but for each move I block, he’s already counterattacking before I can decide what to do. I deflect him, trying to look for any sign of weakness in his stance in between blows. Of course, his form is perfect—the rhythm of battle is his symphony, while he’s the maestro.

No wonder he became the general so young.

My muscles ache, and I’m struggling to even grasp my weapon at this point. My breaths are like shards of glass combusting within my chest. Everything hurts as my body begs for reprieve, but he continues to come at me from every angle. If he’s this good without using his ability… Siorai, help anyone he does use it on.

“I… need… to… stop,” I gasp.

Emyr’s blade arcs above me, but I register his movement, my sword blocking his as my body struggles under his strength.

Emyr pushes more of his weight into the block. “Do you think your opponent will cease because you grow weary?” Emyr asks.

“N-No,” I reply, kicking him in the gut.

He stumbles back from the impact, but it doesn’t delay him for long. He’s already at me again, swiping his blade at my stomach. I jump backward, but not quick enough as a burning slice of the blade hits myside. It’s just a tiny knick, but it’s still enough to cause the pain to be excruciating. Despite landing a strike, Emyr doesn’t stop. “Do you wish for your enemies to believe you’re too weak to defend yourself?” Emyr pushes further. “Do you think they will care if you are on the verge of a mental breakdown?”

“No,” I say, struggling to focus through the biting pain.

“Then fight like your life depends on it,” Emyr yells. “Because it just might.” His assaults are more aggressive now, every swipe of his sword calculated, and somehow he remains three steps ahead of me. “If there’s a weakness, they’ll find it and use it to break you in every way imaginable.”

I scream with every block and thrust, my arms turning to mush. Finding an opening, he sweeps my feet out from underneath me. Dark spots dance in my vision as my body connects with the hard cobblestone. When my sight clears, his sword is pointed at my chest as he breathes heavily. “You’re dead,” he whispers. “If I don’t break you in this training, then they’ll do everything they can to make sure they destroy you.”

Then he moves away from me, dropping his sword. “Take a few minutes to recover if you need them,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads toward the brambles and withered plants to the other side of the courtyard. “After that, it’s starlight training.”

I moan, rolling into a fetal position on the cool cobblestones. I need to steady my breathing, as well as recover from my bruised pride. Virgil and Laisren check on me, but I wave them off. Soon, their footsteps retreat, which means they’ve probably joined Emyr…waiting for me.If I had the choice, I wouldn’t leave this spot on the ground. However, I can’t stay here… I have an obligation and a promise to fulfill.

Perhaps this is what the king truly desires in the end—to break me, as Emyr suggested.

A tear slips down my cheek as all the emotions I war against rise and fall to the surface of my mind:

I’m a failure.

I’m weak.

I’m fractured.

What if I let everyone down?

What if I’m not the person meant to find the Na Fíréin?

And if I am, what if they refuse to help me bring back my beloved Cales?