Page 5 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)

Priscilla

The first sun hadn’t yet breached the horizon when Priscilla slipped through the streets toward the training grounds. Her muscles protested with each step, a week’s worth of bruises and strains making themselves known.

Movement in the shadows caught her eye. Andear stood beneath the stone archway, his massive frame unmistakable even in the dim light. His golden eyes tracked her approach, and heat crept up her neck that had nothing to do with exertion.

“You’re early.” His deep voice carried across the empty courtyard.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Priscilla said, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

His eyes narrowed as he approached her, stopping closer than necessary. “You’re favoring your right side.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a question.” He circled her, and she fought the urge to track his movement. “Show me where.”

“It’s nothing. Just some bruises from yesterday’s sparring.”

“When Krav knocked you down.” His jaw clenched. “He struck too hard.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not—” He cut himself off, his scales shifting with irritation. “You need to tell me when you’re injured. No warrior trains at full capacity while hiding wounds.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” She met his gaze, refusing to back down. “And I’m not one of your warriors.”

Something flickered in his expression—frustration, perhaps, or something deeper she couldn’t name. He opened his mouth to respond, but voices approached from the street. Other warriors were arriving for morning training.

Andear stepped back, his presence suddenly all business. “Twenty laps. Now. Before the others start their drills.”

Priscilla bit back a smile as she started running. She’d caught that look in his eyes before he retreated—concern, poorly masked by authority. Let him pretend he wasn’t watching out for her. She had her own secrets to keep, after all. Like the fact that Mila would probably kill her if she knew about these training sessions.

Andear approached Priscilla during the midday training session. “A word,” he commanded, jerking his head toward the edge of the field.

The other warriors paused their drills, watching as she followed him. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her chin high.

“Ten laps.” He gestured to a pile of warrior armor. “Wearing that.”

Priscilla’s eyes widened. The armor weighed almost as much as she did. “You’re challenging me with that?”

“Unless you’d prefer to quit now,” Andear replied.

“Never.” She grabbed the first piece of armor, buckling it over her training clothes.

Behind her, warriors gathered, their voices carrying across the field.

“Two laps, tops.”

“One. Look at her size.”

Priscilla gritted her teeth as she secured the last piece. The twin suns beat down as she started her first lap. By the third, her legs burned like fire. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and the armor felt like it was crushing her chest.

Four laps. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

Five laps. Her hands shook as she pushed forward, each step a battle against gravity. The warriors’ taunts had faded to murmurs of disbelief.

She risked a glance at Andear. He stood perfectly still, those fierce eyes following her every move. Was that respect she saw? The thought gave her a surge of energy.

“Keep going,” he called out, his deep voice carrying across the field.

Her legs wobbled dangerously. The world tilted, but she refused to fall. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

“Six laps,” someone counted. “By the gods, she’s still going.”

The armor dug into her shoulders, each step sending jolts of pain through her body. Her vision blurred at the edges. Just a little further...

Priscilla’s knees hit the ground as she crossed the finish line, her lungs burning with each desperate breath. The armor felt like it was crushing her, but she managed to lift her head, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as she met Andear’s gaze.

His golden eyes widened for a fraction of a second, something flickering in their depths that made her heart skip. Pride? No, that couldn’t be right. But something was definitely there, something that made her skin tingle despite her exhaustion.

The moment shattered as his expression hardened. “Get up. We’re not done.”

“Wouldn’t dream of stopping now,” she wheezed, struggling to her feet. Her legs trembled, but she refused to show weakness. Not when she’d just proven to him that she could handle the training.

“The weapons rack. Now.” His command brooked no argument as he moved across the training grounds, his powerful frame casting a long shadow in the afternoon sunlight.

Priscilla followed, each step sending shocks of pain through her overworked muscles. The other warriors had gone quiet, their earlier taunts replaced by watchful silence. She could feel their stares boring into her back.

Andear stopped at the rack, his hand wrapping around a wooden staff that looked more like a small tree trunk to her tired eyes. “This will be your weapon.”

The staff was easily twice as thick as her arm, its length intimidating even from where she stood. Her muscles screamed at the mere thought of lifting it, but she squared her shoulders and met his challenging stare.

“Problem?” he growled, his voice dropping lower.

“Just admiring your choice, warlord.” She took a step closer, tilting her head back to maintain eye contact. “Trying to decide if you picked the heaviest one on purpose, or if that’s just your natural tendency toward overkill.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You think I’m being too hard on you?”

“I think you’re trying to make me quit for some reason.” She lifted her chin, defiance burning through her exhaustion. “And I think you’re going to be very disappointed.”

Priscilla reached for the staff, her fingers wrapping around the smooth wood. The moment Andear released his grip, her arms dropped several inches. The weight yanked at her shoulders, already strained from the armor challenge.

She adjusted her stance, and her arms trembled as she attempted to lift it into a defensive position.

“That position leaves your left side exposed.” Andear’s voice cut through her concentration. “Again.”

She gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to correct her form. The staff wobbled, nearly slipping from her grasp. Frustration bubbled up in her chest, threatening to spill over.

“I said again.” His tone was sharp.

Memories of her past flashed through her mind—years of being told she wasn’t worth anything, wasn’t strong enough. But this was different. This was her choice. Her chance to prove she could be more than what others saw when they looked at her.

“I’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, drawing in a deep breath. The air filled her lungs, steadying her racing heart.

She adjusted her grip again, sliding her hands further apart. The weight distributed more evenly, and she found her balance. One movement at a time, she worked through the defensive stance Andear had demonstrated earlier.

Block. Shift. Pivot.

Her muscles screamed, but she pushed through the pain. Each attempt brought her closer to the proper form, each failure teaching her something new about her body’s capabilities.

On her seventh try, everything clicked. The staff moved as an extension of her arms, her feet planted firmly as she executed a perfect defensive block. The wood sang through the air and stopped exactly where it should.

Priscilla held the position, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked up at Andear, unable to hide the triumph in her eyes.

His golden gaze locked on to hers, something flickering in their depths. Interest? Approval? Whatever it was made her pulse quicken. He studied her for a long moment, his massive frame casting a large shadow over her smaller form.

“That’s enough for today.” His words came out clipped, almost harsh.

Before she could respond, he turned and moved away, his powerful form disappearing into the shadows of the training ground. No acknowledgment of her achievement, no word of praise.

But Priscilla had seen that look in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it fast enough, and that meant more than any words he could have said.

The following day, Priscilla caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye as she sparred with Krav. Andear stood in the shadows of the stone pillars, his massive frame tense and those golden eyes tracking her every move. She’d noticed him watching her more today, his gaze burning into her skin even as he barked commands at other warriors.

“Focus,” Krav growled, swinging his staff toward her ribs.

She ducked and rolled, coming up behind him in a move she’d perfected over the past several hours. Her smaller size gave her an advantage in speed, if nothing else.

“Better,” Andear’s rich voice cut through the air.

The other warriors had stopped their drills to watch, their whispers carrying across the stone courtyard.

“The human’s getting dangerous.”

“I can’t believe the warlord’s actually letting her train.”

Krav attacked again, faster this time. Priscilla blocked, her arms trembling with the force of the impact. She spun away, using his momentum against him.

A low rumble of approval came from Andear’s direction. When she dared a glance, his eyes had darkened to molten gold, something fierce and unreadable in their depths. He crossed his arms, his scales shifting in the sunlight, but didn’t look away.

“That’s enough,” he commanded, his voice rougher than usual. “Krav, join the others. Priscilla, basic forms.”

She moved through the defensive stances, each one more fluid than the last. Sweat trickled down her spine, her muscles burning with familiar exertion. But she didn’t stop, didn’t slow. Not when she could feel his eyes on her, cataloging every movement with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

He retreated to his usual spot, but she felt his presence like a physical weight. Whatever this was between them—this tension, this unspoken thing—it grew stronger with each passing day. And judging by how quickly he looked away when she caught his eye, he felt it, too.