Page 8 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)
Priscilla
Priscilla’s muscles burned as she executed another strike combination against the practice dummy. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, and the training grounds lay silent except for her measured breathing and the soft thud of her wooden staff against the target.
A shadow shifted in her peripheral vision—Andear. He hovered in his usual spot beneath the stone archway, his arms crossed and expression unreadable. Since that day when he’d caught her in his arms, when something electric had passed between them, he’d kept his distance. No more private lessons. No more corrections delivered in that deep, commanding voice that made her shiver.
She pushed harder, channeling her frustration into each strike. The dummy shuddered under her assault.
“Your left side is still weak,” one of the younger warriors called out as he entered the training grounds. “But better than yesterday.”
Priscilla nodded her thanks, careful not to look in Andear’s direction again. Whatever she’d done wrong, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her curiosity or hurt.
More warriors filtered in as the twin suns rose. Priscilla moved to the edge of the grounds, continuing her drills while they began their morning routines. She caught fragments of their conversations—respect in some voices, disdain in others.
“The human’s still here.”
“She’s got spirit. I’ll give her that.”
Andear’s voice cut through the chatter. “Begin combat formations.”
His command carried the weight of steel, and the warriors snapped to attention. Priscilla’s heart skipped as he moved past her, close enough that she caught his scent—leather and something distinctly male. He didn’t spare her a glance, but she felt the heat radiating from him.
She gripped her staff tighter and continued her own practice, even as her mind wandered to the memory of those powerful arms around her, the way his chest had felt against her palms. The way he’d looked at her, just for a moment, like she was something dangerous and desirable all at once.
The dummy took another hit, harder than intended. Priscilla exhaled slowly, centering herself. She had something to prove—to the warriors, to herself, and yes, to him. Whatever was going on with Andear, she wouldn’t let it derail her progress.
Later that afternoon, Priscilla circled Jorek on the training mat, her staff held in the defensive position she’d practiced countless times. Sweat dripped down her temple, but her grip remained steady. The young Niri warrior’s dark scales gleamed under the afternoon suns as he matched her movements, his own weapon at the ready.
“Don’t hold back just because I’m human,” she said, keeping her voice light despite her racing heart.
Jorek’s lips quirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’ve earned a real fight.”
He struck first—fast and precise. Priscilla spun away, using her smaller size to her advantage. The wooden staffs clacked together as she parried his next attack. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Andear’s imposing figure by the stone pillars, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed on their match.
Her momentary distraction cost her. Jorek’s staff whistled past her ear. She dropped and rolled, coming up behind him. The hours of drilling kicked in, muscle memory taking over. She saw the opening before Jorek realized he’d left one.
The impact of her staff against his ribs resonated through the training grounds. Jorek stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise. The usual sounds of training—grunts, clashing weapons, shouted commands—died away. Every warrior stopped to stare.
Priscilla’s chest heaved as she maintained her stance, her staff still raised. She’d done it. Actually done it. Landed a clean hit on a Niri warrior. The silence stretched, broken only by the hot wind whistling through the stone columns.
She risked another glance at Andear. His expression hadn’t changed, but something dark and intense burned in those golden eyes. Her skin tingled under his gaze.
Jorek straightened, rubbing his side. “Well struck,” he said, inclining his head. “Though I won’t let you get another.”
“We’ll see about that.” Priscilla reset her stance, pushing away thoughts of Andear’s scrutiny. She had more to prove yet.
Priscilla’s bruised ribs ached as she moved through her morning exercises, but the pain felt different today. Warriors who had previously ignored her existence now offered subtle nods of acknowledgment as they passed. Her clean hit on Jorek yesterday had changed something, shifting the dynamic ever so slightly.
The training grounds buzzed with an undercurrent of tension. Priscilla felt it prickling along her skin as she completed her warm-up routine. Andear was at his usual post, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the cracked stone. His eyes continued to track her movements with intensity making her pulse quicken.
Vren suddenly approached her, his dark scales gleaming with barely contained aggression.
“So, the little pet landed a hit.” His voice dripped with contempt. “Tell me, does Andear pat your head when you perform your tricks?”
Priscilla’s grip tightened on her staff, but she kept her movements controlled. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. The memory of his previous “lesson” still burned—the crack of wood against bone, the taste of blood in her mouth.
“Or perhaps he offers other rewards?” Vren’s words carried across the grounds. Several warriors stopped their drills to watch. “We all see how he favors you. A human has no place here, but our great warlord seems to have forgotten that.”
Heat crept up Priscilla’s neck. She risked a glance at Andear, whose expression had hardened into something dangerous. His massive hands clenched at his sides, but he remained still.
“What’s wrong, pet? Lost your tongue?” Vren circled her. “Or do you only speak when your master gives permission?”
The wooden staff creaked under Priscilla’s white-knuckled grip. She focused on her breathing, on the burn in her muscles, on anything but the urge to swing at Vren’s smug face.
She straightened her spine and met his gaze directly. “I earned my place here.” Her voice came out steady and controlled. “Just like everyone else.”
Vren’s laugh was ugly. “Earned? You’re nothing but an unworthy distraction—a novelty that our warlord will tire of soon enough.”
Before Priscilla could respond to Vren’s taunts, a massive shadow fell between them. Andear moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his powerful frame blocking Vren from her view. The air around him crackled with barely contained anger, and the training grounds fell silent.
“If she is unworthy…” Andear’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word precise and deadly. “Prove it in the ring. If not, hold your tongue.”
Priscilla’s breath caught in her throat. The warlord’s presence dominated the space, his broad shoulders tensed as if ready to strike. She’d never seen him quite like this—radiating such raw power and... protectiveness?
Vren took a step back, his scales shifting from aggressive green to a more submissive shade. “Warlord, I merely—”
“You merely question my judgment,” Andear growled. “Are you prepared to back your words with action?”
The challenge hung in the air. Priscilla watched as Vren’s gaze darted between her and his warlord, calculation warring with pride on his features. Finally, he lowered his head in submission.
“No, warlord. Forgive my... outburst.”
Understanding dawned on Priscilla as she watched the exchange. All this time, she’d thought Andear’s recent distance meant disapproval or regret. But now, seeing him tower over Vren, hearing the steel in his voice as he defended her right to be here, she realized she’d misread everything.
He wasn’t pushing her away. He was creating space for her to prove herself while ensuring she had the chance to do so. Every time a warrior had gone too far in sparring, every time whispers of dismissal had threatened to become actions—Andear had been there, a silent guardian maintaining the delicate balance that allowed her to continue training.
“Return to your drills,” Andear commanded, and the warriors scattered. He turned slightly, his eyes meeting hers for just a moment. In that brief connection, Priscilla saw something that made her heart beat faster—not just protection but pride.
Priscilla lay in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling as moonlight filtered through the gossamer curtains. Her muscles ached from training, but a different kind of pain kept her awake now. The memory of Andear stepping between her and Vren replayed in her mind, making her heart flutter in a way that both thrilled and terrified her.
Down the hall, she heard Mila moving around in the kitchen. Her sister’s voice drifted through the walls, probably talking to Brivul about her day at the university. Guilt gnawed at Priscilla’s conscience. She still hadn’t told Mila about the training. How could she explain that she’d found purpose in the last place anyone would expect?
She rolled onto her side, wincing as her bruised ribs protested. The way Andear had looked at her today... His golden eyes had burned with something fierce and protective, yet he’d let her stand her ground. He hadn’t swooped in to fight her battle—he’d simply ensured she had the chance to fight it herself.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. “Cilla?” Mila’s voice came through the door. “You’re usually reading at this hour. Everything okay?”
“Just tired,” Priscilla called back, trying to keep her voice casual. “Long day at the art studio.”
“You’ve been tired a lot lately.” The door creaked open, and Mila’s concerned face appeared. “Are you sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard?”
Priscilla sat up, careful to keep her movements fluid despite her sore muscles. “I’m fine, really. Just... finding my way.”
Mila sat on the edge of the bed. “You know you can tell me anything. Right?”
The weight of unsaid words pressed against Priscilla’s chest. But how could she explain about Andear? And how that every time he looked at her, she felt seen in a way she never had before? That his presence made her feel both vulnerable and invincible?
“I know,” Priscilla said softly. “I just need to figure some things out for myself first.”
After Mila left, she closed her eyes, but all she could see was the way Andear moved today—powerful, commanding, a warrior born to protect. To protect her.