Page 9 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

T he training yard was silent in the predawn light, dew clinging to the hard packed sand beneath my boots as I moved through the noble sword forms. My practice sword cut through the morning mist, each movement precise and controlled despite my exhaustion.

I'd been awake for hours, driven from my bed by the same nightmare — Arilius's eyes finding mine in that final moment of understanding, before the light left them forever.

"I don’t remember your brother," his words followed me even into wakefulness. Each night, his death played out again behind my closed eyelids, blood pooling beneath his fallen form, each time I awoke, tears falling, the feel of his blood sprayed across my face. Once it had been Tarus’ death that had haunted my nights. Now it was that of his killer.

I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. If I trained until I could barely stand, sometimes I could force myself into a dreamless sleep.

"Your footwork has improved considerably," a voice called from behind me.

I whirled around, practice sword raised defensively, to find Jalend Northreach leaning against the stone wall that enclosed the training yard. The early sunlight caught in his sleek dark hair, highlighting it with copper fire. His presence sent a flutter of something dangerous through my chest.

"I didn't hear you approach," I said, lowering my weapon.

"That was rather the point." He pushed away from the wall with easy grace, drawing his own practice sword. "I've been watching you for the past ten minutes. You were completely absorbed."

I shrugged, trying to ignore how his words made me feel both exposed and oddly pleased. "Concentration is key to survival."

"Indeed." He circled me slowly, his sword held loosely at his side. "Especially when one faces enemies on all fronts."

My heart stuttered. Did he suspect something? Had I given myself away somehow? "What do you mean?"

His smile was enigmatic. "I'm referring to your admirers, of course. Valeria and her little court have been particularly venomous lately."

Relief washed through me. "They're a minor annoyance, nothing more."

"An annoyance that's become increasingly bold." He raised an eyebrow. "I've noticed how they surround you in the dining hall, how they whisper when you pass. Even Legate Ferris has commented on their behaviour."

I rotated my wrist, loosening it before our inevitable sparring match. "I've faced worse than spoiled noblewomen."

"I don't doubt it." His eyes studied me with that unnerving intensity he sometimes displayed. "You've clearly fought for everything you have."

The observation hit too close to home. I raised my practice sword. "Are we talking or sparring, Lord Northreach?"

His smile widened, something predatory glinting in his eyes. "Both, Lady Cantius. I find you fascinating enough to attempt both simultaneously."

We began to circle each other, the wet grass squeaking beneath our boots.

Jalend was easily the most skilled swordsman among the cadets—possibly better than some of the instructors.

I'd learned that the hard way during our first sparring match.

But over the weeks, I'd begun to recognize his patterns, to anticipate the fluid grace of his movements.

He struck first, a deceptively casual thrust that I sidestepped easily.

"You've been having nightmares," he said conversationally, as though commenting on the weather rather than my private torments.

I nearly missed my block on his follow-up attack. "How would you know that?"

"The shadows under your eyes. The way you push yourself harder when you're troubled." He parried my counter with frustrating ease. "And the fact that you've been in the training yard before dawn every morning this week."

I redoubled my efforts, driving him back with a series of quick, aggressive strikes. "Do you make a habit of observing your fellow cadets so closely?"

"Only the exceptional ones." He spun away from my attack with fluid grace. "And you, Lady Cantius, are exceptional in ways I'm still discovering."

I refused to be distracted by the warmth in his voice. "You're still telegraphing your left feint."

His laugh was unexpectedly genuine. "And you're still dropping your guard when you prepare to lunge."

We continued our dance across the dew-slick yard, the sound of our clashing practice swords echoing in the empty morning.

For these brief moments, I could forget everything else—my false identity, the constant vigilance, the nightmares.

There was only the pure simplicity of combat, the challenge of matching my skills against his.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the sun had fully risen above the Academy walls. The Academy bells began to toll, signalling the approach of morning muster. I gathered my training gear, acutely aware of his eyes on me.

"We should go," I said, turning toward the path that led to the cadet barracks.

Jalend fell into step beside me. "You know," he said after a moment, "you can tell me about the nightmares. Sometimes speaking of them diminishes their power."

I glanced at him, surprised by the genuine concern in his voice. "They're just dreams."

"Dreams powerful enough to drive you from your bed before dawn every day." His voice was soft, lacking its usual sardonic edge. "Dreams that leave you looking haunted even as you outperform cadets with years more training."

I kept my eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Why do you care?"

"An excellent question." He sounded almost amused. "One I've asked myself repeatedly. You're not at all what I expected when I first met you at the Academy trials."

"Disappointed?"

"Quite the opposite." He caught my arm gently, bringing us to a stop just before we would have emerged from the path into the main courtyard. "I find myself increasingly... invested in your wellbeing, Lady Cantius. Against my better judgment, I might add."

His touch sent warmth radiating up my arm, a dangerous, distracting sensation that I couldn't afford. I pulled away carefully.

"Thank you for your concern, Lord Northreach, but I assure you I'm perfectly capable of handling a few bad dreams and petty rivals."

His eyes searched mine. "I have no doubt of your capabilities. It's simply that you don't have to handle everything alone."

The kindness in his voice threatened to unravel something tightly coiled within me. I looked away, unable to maintain eye contact without risking exposure of emotions I could ill afford to reveal.

"We should hurry," I said. "Legate Ferris doesn't tolerate tardiness."

Jalend sighed but nodded, allowing me to set our pace as we entered the courtyard where the other cadets were assembling. The moment we appeared, I felt the hostile gazes of Valeria and her followers—Cassia and Drusilla flanking her like protective hounds.

"Your admiring public awaits," Jalend murmured.

I straightened my shoulders, refusing to show any sign of discomfort. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Of that, Lady Cantius, I have absolutely no doubt." The warmth in his voice made something flutter in my chest, a dangerous sensation I couldn't afford to examine.

As we took our places in formation, I noticed how Valeria's eyes narrowed at the sight of Jalend at my side. Whatever game the noble-born cadets were playing, my apparent connection to one of their own clearly rankled.

Legate Ferris strode onto the training ground, his weathered face set in its perpetual scowl. "Pair off for combat drills," he barked. "Today we focus on defensive counters against multiple opponents."

I found myself paired with Drusilla and another female cadet named Lucia—both from Valeria's circle. The arrangement was too deliberate to be coincidence.

"Three opponents for Cadet Cantius," Ferris announced, and I realized with a sinking feeling that Valeria herself was approaching to join my opponents. "Given your performance in yesterday's assessments, I believe you need the challenge."

A few snickers came from the assembled cadets. Three against one was beyond challenging—it was punitive, especially when the three clearly had coordinated their approach beforehand.

I took my stance in the centre of the training circle, practice sword held ready as my three opponents spread out to surround me. Valeria's smile was coldly triumphant.

"Begin!" Ferris barked.

They attacked in unison, a coordinated assault that spoke of planning and practice.

I deflected Lucia's thrust, spun to evade Drusilla's slash, and barely managed to block Valeria's strike at my exposed side.

The force of it sent me staggering back, but I recovered quickly, using their momentum against them as I'd learned in the ludus.

"Border province technique," Valeria sneered just loudly enough for me to hear. "Or perhaps something learned in less... reputable circles?"

My blood ran cold, but I kept my face impassive, focusing on the immediate threat of their weapons rather than their words. I feinted toward Lucia, pivoted sharply when Drusilla committed to her attack, and managed to land a solid hit to her side that sent her stumbling back.

"Point to Cantius," Ferris called.

Valeria's eyes narrowed. "Lucky strike," she hissed, pressing forward with a series of attacks that forced me to give ground.

"Nervous, provincial?" Drusilla whispered as our practice swords locked. "Missing your servants to protect you?"

I broke away from her, narrowly avoiding Lucia's thrust from behind. Their mockery was nothing new—they'd been needling me since my arrival at the Academy.

"How is it," Valeria said during our next exchange, her voice pitched for my ears alone, "that such a minor noble as yourself managed to attend the Academy? Special favours for Lord Varin before his unfortunate death?"

My grip tightened on my practice sword. That they would dare mention Varin—after what he had tried to do, after what they had helped him attempt—made my blood boil.