Page 23

VAELITH

I ’m standing at the threshold of my estate, watching as two guards escort Selene from the carriage.

She emerges with her spine rigid, every breath of hers defiant.

The day’s events have carved tension into the air, and I sense the hushed curiosity of my staff, all pretending not to stare at the newest occupant.

The courtyard’s ornate fountain gurgles under the moonlight, but no one stops to admire it.

Everyone is focused on the woman standing in chains, who refuses to bow.

I motion for the guards to move aside so I can address her directly.

She stands just within the gates, skin catching the faint glow of enchantment-lamps.

Her dark hair frames a face that brims with unspoken daring.

She’s not subdued by the pomp of Orthani’s court or by the knowledge that her life depends on my favor.

In her stare, I see that unrelenting challenge.

Even now, after the humiliating parade in front of the council, she won’t play the role of obedient captive.

“Come,” I say, gesturing toward the door leading into the main hall. My tone is clipped, leaving no room for argument.

She presses her lips together and complies with a single step, though she doesn’t hide the flash of resentment in her eyes.

The iron chain at her wrists rattles softly, the only sign of her enforced captivity.

I nod at the guards to release the latch on her cuffs.

They obey, and the chain drops away with a dull clank.

She lifts her wrists, rubbing faint red marks where the metal pressed her skin.

“Shall I thank you for that?” she mutters, voice low.

“Thank me or not,” I reply, meeting her gaze. “So long as you do as I command.”

A scoff escapes her, quiet but sharp enough that I can feel it in my gut.

The corners of my mouth tighten. I remind myself that I requested her for military use.

I wanted her anger and skill, so I could wield it.

Taming her might prove more difficult than controlling a feral beast, but that’s better than having Zareth twist her mind into something unrecognizable.

I lead her into the entry hall with the guards trailing behind.

The marble floor gleams under the glow of mage-lanterns set in silver brackets.

My estate is simpler than many noble homes—no gaudy drapes or gilded statues.

Just clean lines, sturdy architecture, the occasional tapestry telling of Orthani’s war campaigns.

I catch Selene glancing around, noting the muted elegance. Maybe she expected more excess.

“Upstairs,” I say, guiding her to the wide staircase.

Her boots click against polished stone, and I’m keenly aware of her presence at my side.

Every step she takes exudes a kind of raw defiance, as if she’s parading herself rather than letting me direct her.

Servants on the landing pause, offering stiff bows as they see me.

Their gazes flick to her before quickly darting away.

Word has spread of the infamous purna I brought home.

On the second floor, I gesture to a corridor leading to a vacant suite. “You’ll stay here,” I say, stopping outside a plain wooden door. “There’s a bed, a small writing desk, and a window. No bars, but wards have been placed. If you attempt to slip away, you’ll trigger them.”

Her jaw tightens. She pushes the door open without waiting for my permission.

I follow her inside, dismissing the guards with a curt wave.

The suite is modest, walls painted a deep gray, a single lamp on the table.

The bed sits against the far wall, linen folded neatly.

The entire space is functional, not opulent.

She scans the room, features impassive, then pivots to face me. “So I serve your forces now. Where do we begin, Commander?” Her voice drips with wry challenge, as if she’s daring me to prove I’m not as cruel as Zareth or as weak as the lesser officers.

I let out a measured breath. “We begin with discipline. Tomorrow morning, at dawn, you train alongside my soldiers. You obey commands. Prove you aren’t a liability.”

She narrows her eyes, arms folding. “I’m not used to obeying men who’d rather see me on my knees.”

I step closer, holding her gaze. The pulse in my neck throbs with the tension that her words summon. She stands a good bit shorter than me, but it doesn’t matter. She wields her presence like a blade. “I don’t recall saying I want you on your knees. I only demand competence.”

She lifts a brow, a crooked grin flickering over her lips. “Competence, is it? Well, that’s something I can provide. But don’t mistake me for a soldier who’ll follow you into the fire out of loyalty. I’m here because the council left me no choice. Don’t expect my devotion.”

Anger mingles with another spark I try to ignore. “Your loyalty to me is irrelevant. You’re loyal to Orthani now, or so the council proclaims.” The words taste bitter, but I force them out. “All that matters is that you do what I require. Fight when commanded. Hold your tongue when needed.”

She steps forward, closing the distance between us, the lamp’s glow revealing a faint bruise on her neck.

Likely from the collar or the manacles used to parade her.

My gut twists at the reminder of how she was presented like a trophy in the court.

A piece of me wants to snap at her to stop pushing me, but the rest recognizes that her rebellious streak is exactly why I fought to keep her from Zareth.

“Orthani demands,” she murmurs, eyes flicking over my face. “And you’re just their enforcer. Is that all you are? Another soldier who bends to the city’s will?”

A flash of annoyance crackles through me. I straighten my shoulders. “You’d do well not to question me like that.”

She tilts her head, unafraid. “And if I keep questioning?”

My pulse thrums. “Then I’ll remind you of your place,” I say, voice edged with warning.

She thinks she’s the only one carrying a grudge.

I’ve lost too much to purna—my fiancée, my illusions of a stable future—yet I can’t deny the spark that ignited the moment I saw Selene refuse to cower in the council hall.

Her lips move in an almost smile. “Try it,” she says softly, but the challenge laces every syllable. She’s testing me, keen to see how far I’ll push. No matter the tension knotting my gut, I can’t let her sense any weakness.

I fold my arms, maintaining a cool facade. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet me in the courtyard at dawn. We’ll train.” Then I reach behind me, pulling open the door. “Rest if you can. I’ll have a guard stationed outside.”

She steps back, reclaiming a bit of personal space, though her gaze stays locked on me like a predator marking territory. “Dawn,” she repeats, voice quiet.

With that, I turn on my heel and step into the corridor. A guard stands at attention, face blank. I nod at him. “Keep watch. If she tries anything, alert me at once.”

He salutes. The door closes behind me, leaving her inside.

I walk down the hall, tensions not eased by the exchange.

My estate feels too small for the tempest swirling around us.

Zareth surely salivates at the idea of ripping her mind apart, and the council eyes me warily, afraid I might lose control of her.

I assure them I can handle her, but the memory of her defiant stare keeps surfacing.

I head downstairs, ignoring a couple of servants who bow as I pass.

I exit onto the terrace, breathing in the crisp night air.

Starlight filters through Orthani’s perpetual gloom, catching on the water of the courtyard fountain.

My arms tense with the weight of the new responsibility.

I told the council I’d harness her power, shape her into a soldier.

But the question hammers at me: how do you chain a tempest?

She’s so different from the purna I knew before, the one who cost me everything.

That woman was meek, hiding her magic to protect someone dear to her.

Selene is all sharpened edges. I sense she’d rather die than let anyone break her.

Perhaps that’s what draws me in, though I try to deny it.

There’s a savage thrill in matching wills with someone who refuses to yield.

That night, sleep eludes me. I’m up before dawn, preparing my gear in the armory behind the estate. Leather bracers, gauntlets, and a sword tempered by arcane forging. My muscle memory thrums with the anticipation of sparring. Today’s lesson is a test for both of us.

Outside, the courtyard glimmers under the emerging light.

Servants scurry to begin their chores. I stand in the middle of the worn training grounds, an oval space ringed by smoothed stones.

A handful of my personal guard wait along the perimeter, arms crossed.

They’re curious to see if this purna can measure up to the legends swirling around her.

She arrives a heartbeat later, hair pulled into a rough knot, wearing a simple tunic and trousers that I provided.

The clothing fits her agile form well enough, though there’s a trace of discomfort in how she glances down at the uniform.

She catches sight of me, and the tension flares again, like lightning ready to strike.

“You’re punctual,” I remark, stepping forward. “Good. We’ll start with basic drills. Show me what you’ve got beyond the glimpses I saw in the arena.”

She squares her shoulders. “I can handle any drill you throw at me.”

I toss her a wooden training sword. She snatches it from the air, testing its weight with a disdainful twist of her wrist. “Looks light. Hope you’re not underestimating me.”

I gesture to the wide ring of sand. “We’ll see. Attack me.”