Page 6 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)

Priscilla

Priscilla wiped sweat from her brow, adjusting her stance as she faced off against the training dummy. The afternoon sunlight beat down on the courtyard, but she’d grown accustomed to training in the heat. Her muscles had developed a familiar ache—one she wore with pride.

“The warlord’s pet human shows improvement,” a warrior muttered nearby, loudly enough for her to hear.

“She’s lasted longer than expected,” another replied. “But how long before she breaks?”

Priscilla kept her focus on her forms, though her jaw clenched at their words. The wooden staff felt natural in her hands now, an extension of herself rather than the awkward weight it had been days ago.

“Wider stance,” Andear’s deep voice commanded from behind her. His towering frame cast a shadow over her as he approached. “Your balance is off.”

She adjusted, hyper-aware of his proximity. His presence drew whispers from the gathered warriors.

“First he lets her train. Now he personally instructs her?”

“Perhaps he’s grown bored without war...”

Andear’s scales flickered with irritation as he shot a glare toward the murmuring warriors. They fell silent immediately, but their disapproving looks remained.

“Again,” he ordered, crossing his arms as he watched her move through the sequence.

Priscilla executed the drill, each movement sharper than before. She’d earned this place through sweat and determination. Let them whisper. Let them doubt. She’d prove them all wrong.

“The warlord’s gone soft,” someone whispered. “No human belongs among Niri warriors.”

“Better,” Andear said, ignoring the comments. His golden eyes tracked her movements. “Now faster.”

She pushed herself harder, aware of the growing crowd of warriors watching. Some nodded with grudging respect at her improved form. Others glared as if her very presence was an insult to their training grounds.

“She’s making a mockery of our traditions,” a warrior grumbled.

Andear’s head snapped toward the voice, his massive frame tensing. The warrior quickly looked away, but his words hung in the air.

Priscilla maintained her focus, refusing to let their prejudice affect her. She was done being weak. Done being helpless. If they wanted to whisper and glare, let them. She’d earned her place here—not through birth or tradition but through sheer force of will.

Priscilla’s muscles burned from the afternoon’s training when Vren moved into her path, his green scales gleaming with an oily sheen in the harsh sunlight. He towered over her, though not as impressively as Andear did.

“Look at this—a human playing at being a warrior.” Vren’s lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth. “You mock our sacred training grounds with your presence.”

The other warriors formed a loose circle around them. Priscilla caught glimpses of Andear at the edge of her vision, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression unreadable.

Her heart thundered against her ribs, but she kept her voice steady. “I’ve earned my place here.”

“Earned?” Vren spat the word. “You’ve earned nothing. A human will never stand among us.”

The familiar heat of defiance rose in her chest. She’d felt it countless times before—in her former master’s estate, in the markets, in every moment someone had tried to make her feel less than what she was. But this time was different. This time she wasn’t powerless.

“Then fight me.” The words left her mouth before she could second-guess them.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered warriors. Andear shifted his weight, his scales catching the light as he moved slightly forward. But Priscilla met his gaze, silently pleading. She needed this—needed to prove herself, not just to them, but to herself.

Something in Andear’s eyes changed—understanding, perhaps. Or respect. He stayed where he was, giving her the slightest nod.

Vren laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “You want to die so badly, little human?”

“I want to fight.” Priscilla squared her shoulders, remembering every movement, every stance she’d learned these past weeks. “Unless you’re afraid to face someone half your size?”

The laughter died in Vren’s throat. His scales darkened with anger as he leaned down, bringing his face close to hers. “Right here. Right now. I’ll show everyone exactly where humans belong.”

Priscilla didn’t flinch. She’d faced worse than his threats, survived more than his contempt.

Vren suddenly lunged forward with a roar, his training staff whistling through the air. Priscilla’s heart jumped, but her body moved on instinct. Hours of dawn training with Andear had taught her to react without thinking. She rolled to the side, the staff missing her by inches as she came up in a crouch.

“Too slow,” she taunted, remembering how Andear had taught her that a warrior’s ego could be their greatest weakness.

Gasps and mutters rippled through the crowd. She caught Andear’s slight nod of approval. Her chest swelled with pride, but she kept her focus on Vren’s movements.

“Lucky dodge,” Vren snarled, his scales darkening with rage. He spun, bringing the staff around in a vicious arc.

Priscilla ducked under the blow, feeling the wind of its passage ruffle her hair. Her muscles burned from the day’s earlier training, but adrenaline kept her moving. She’d learned to read body language during her years in slavery—when to duck, when to run. Now she used those same skills to fight back.

“Stand still, you little pest!”

“Make me,” she shot back, dancing away from another strike. The watching warriors’ murmurs grew louder, impressed despite themselves.

“Enough playing,” Andear’s voice cut through the chaos. “Show him what you learned this morning.”

Priscilla’s lips curved into a fierce smile. She’d spent hours practicing the move he’d taught her, even after her arms felt like lead. As Vren charged again, she stepped into his attack instead of away from it. His eyes widened in surprise—exactly what she’d been waiting for.

She dropped low, sweeping her staff at his legs. The move forced him to jump back, breaking his rhythm. Just like Andear had promised it would.

“The human’s got teeth,” someone called out followed by scattered laughter.

Vren’s face contorted with fury. He raised his staff high and brought it down with crushing force. Priscilla moved her feet but wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way this time.

Pain exploded through Priscilla’s body as Vren’s staff connected with her ribs. The force lifted her off her feet, sending her crashing onto the sunbaked stone. Her staff clattered away, rolling just out of reach. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping.

Vren’s laughter cut through the ringing in her ears. “Stay down, little human. That’s where you belong.”

The familiar taste of copper filled her mouth. Her ribs screamed in protest as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Sweat dripped from her face onto the cracked stone beneath her.

“Look at that. She still tries to rise.” Another warrior’s mocking voice joined the chorus of cruel laughter.

Priscilla’s arms trembled with exhaustion, but she refused to collapse. She’d spent too many years on her knees, bowing to others’ expectations. Not anymore. Never again.

Through the curtain of her disheveled hair, she caught sight of Andear. He was frozen like a statue, his golden eyes burning with that intensity that made her breath catch.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she forced herself to stand. Her legs shook, but she lifted her chin, meeting Vren’s surprised gaze.

“Again,” she spat, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand.

The laughter died. Vren’s scales darkened with rage at her defiance. He gripped his staff tighter, his knuckles white with fury.

Priscilla’s heart hammered against her bruised ribs, but she didn’t back down. She’d rather die standing than live on her knees. The silence stretched between them filled with tension.

Through the haze of her pain and determination, Priscilla caught movement at the edge of her vision. Andear’s stern expression had transformed into something entirely unexpected—a slow grin that made her heart skip.

“Enough.” His voice cut through the tension like a blade. “The fight is over.”

Vren opened his mouth to protest, but Andear’s sharp glare silenced him instantly. The gathered warriors shifted, their whispers taking on a different tone now.

“Did you see how she got back up?”

“Never seen a human with that kind of spirit.”

“Perhaps she does belong here after all...”

Priscilla’s ribs ached with each breath, but she stood straighter, her chin lifted. The respect in their voices was worth every bruise.

Andear moved toward her, his massive frame blocking out the suns. “You showed true warrior spirit today.” His voice rumbled low, meant for her ears alone. “Not many would rise after a hit like that. Even fewer would demand more.”

Heat crept up her neck at his unexpected praise. Being this close to him, she could see the golden undertones of his red scales shimmer in the sunlight.

“I won’t stay down,” she said firmly. “Not anymore.”

Something flickered in his eyes—pride? Admiration? Before she could identify it, he seemed to catch himself. His scales darkened slightly, and he quickly turned away, clearing his throat.

“Training is done for today. All of you, dismissed.”

As the warriors dispersed, several nodded to her with newfound respect. One even clapped her shoulder as he passed—a gesture she’d seen them share among themselves.

Priscilla gathered her staff, every movement sending surges of pain through her ribs, but she couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time, she felt like she’d truly earned something on her own terms. No one had given her this victory. She’d fought for it and bled for it.

She caught Andear watching her one last time before he disappeared into the shadows of the training grounds, his eyes lingering on her face before he turned away.