Page 18

‘You didn’t tell me you had powers.’

Silence settled between them like a brewing storm. Mal bit the inside of her cheek, her frustration curdling into something heavier. He was right. She had never told her brothers or even Haven the truth of what she was capable of.

She exhaled, conceding, ‘Very well. I deserved that.’

By the time they reached the training yard, Kai had already shifted his interest, his gaze scanning the drakonian men as they swung their blades in strong, quick motions. He leaned against the stone wall, lips curling in distaste.

‘Look at them,’ he mused, his voice thick with amusement. ‘Utterly useless. That one there—do you see him? He can barely lift his sword above his head. Gods help us if these are the men guarding the Fire Kingdom.’

Mal huffed in irritation, unimpressed by his dismissal of their prior conversation. But as her gaze roved over the yard, another question clawed its way into her mind, and her frown deepened.

‘Where are the women?’

Kai gave her a look she did not like.

Mal straightened, shoving past him as she strode into the training yard, the stomp of her feet demanding attention.

The men faltered, swords lowering as they took in the wyverian princess with wary curiosity.

Among them, a blonde head caught her eye, a shade almost familiar.

She kept walking, unbothered by the men who stepped forward as if to shield their prince.

The man she sought sat at the edge of the yard, back turned to her, his sword in his lap as he polished its silver edge.

‘Ash Acheron, is it?’ Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

The prince did not lift his gaze, but the men around him stiffened, their hands gripping hilts, the metallic whisper of steel shifting in its scabbard filling the air. Mal barely spared them a glance, her lips curving into something akin to amusement.

‘Where are the women?’ she demanded. ‘Do they train separately?’

A scoff, low and guttural. Someone spat, the gesture thick with disdain. Laughter rippled through the yard, the kind of cruel mirth that set Mal’s teeth on edge.

‘Drakonian women do not train, your highness,’ a voice answered from across the yard. She turned to find a young man garbed in crimson, his head shaven, his stance poised like a warrior. ‘Our women are not allowed to fight.’

Mal froze, as though struck. Her stomach coiled in disbelief, in fury.

‘You must be joking.’

The man did not flinch. ‘I’m afraid not, your highness.’

‘Hagan.’ The prince’s voice was low and rough, a quiet command that instantly silenced the man in red.

Mal watched as he finally rose to his feet, turning to face her.

He was a striking figure—a true drakonian prince.

His golden horns stood tall and strong, a mark of his lineage, and his blonde hair, neither too short nor overly long, framed his sharp features with effortless grace.

But it was his eyes that held her captive.

They burnt with all the fire in the world, smoldering as they fixed upon her.

For a fleeting moment, Mal found herself mesmerised by them—by the sheer intensity, the beauty contained within something so small.

‘Drakonian women should learn how to fight,’ she stated, her words measured, sharp as honed steel.

Laughter again. Someone muttered, ‘What for?’

Mal’s expression darkened, a storm gathering in her violet gaze. ‘If you cannot fathom why a woman should be able to defend herself,’ she spat, pivoting on her heel to face her brother, ‘to protect her own body, her children, her land—then you know nothing of true pride.’

Kai leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his grin wicked with amusement, yet he said nothing.

She had just reached his side when the prince finally spoke.

His voice was quiet, and yet, it rooted her in place.

‘Show us, then.’

A shift in the air broke her focus. Turning slightly, she caught the quiet unease in the yard.

It was not fear of her, but fear of harming a princess.

Fear of the unknown, of facing a wyverian whose capabilities remained a mystery to them.

Every drakonian present was watching her now, their gazes heavy as she stepped forward.

Her gown was long, impractical for combat, but Mal had trained to fight under any condition, dressed in any manner.

The prince tilted his head, his curiosity evident, before gesturing to two of his men.

They stepped forward, clearly not part of the elite warriors in red she had noticed lurking in the shadows.

These were ordinary soldiers—ones meant to test her, but not to pose a true challenge.

Mal sighed, disappointment curling through her. She had hoped to face the prince himself, not two drakonians who barely knew how to hold a sword. Rolling her eyes, she waited for them to make their move.

‘Go easy,’ Kai said, amusement curling at the edges of his voice like smoke .

‘No harm will come to the princess,’ Hagan interjected, stepping forward as though already prepared to intervene should things spiral out of hand.

Kai snorted, shaking his head. ‘Wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her .’

A murmur rippled through the gathered soldiers, an undercurrent of unease and curiosity.

‘The princess does not have a weapon,’ one of the guards noted, his tone laced with confusion, as if the very idea of combat without steel in hand was beyond comprehension.

Mal merely smiled, slow and sharp, her purple eyes gleaming like polished amethysts.

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll need one.’

The moment they advanced, she knew the fight would be over in mere seconds.

Their stances betrayed their lack of skill.

With a sharp twist, she drove her elbow into the first soldier, knocking him unconscious before he could react.

The second barely had time to lift his sword before his face met the dirt.

A stunned silence followed. Mal glanced up, taking in the wide-eyed shock on the faces of the drakonians surrounding her.

‘Does someone wish to make it interesting?’ she asked, her voice a blade wrapped in velvet. A challenge, an invitation.

She waited. Prayed, in the depths of her bones, that the Fire Prince would rise, that he would step forward, meet her fire with his own.

He did not.

Coward .

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more. The moment stretched, brittle and hollow, until at last she turned away, flicking the earth from her bare feet as though casting them from her thoughts entirely.

Behind her, Kai’s laughter rang through the yard, bright and cruel, a dagger plunged into the pride of every man left standing in silence.