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She moves instantly, no hesitation. The wooden blade whistles as it slashes toward my midsection.

I parry with my own training sword, catching the blow at an angle that vibrates through my forearm.

She’s fast, faster than I anticipated, and her technique is fluid.

I shift my stance, returning a quick thrust. She dodges, twisting around me, punishing my momentary lapse.

Our weapons collide again, sending sand spraying around our feet.

A murmur runs through the guards. They can see I’m not holding back, and she’s meeting me strike for strike.

My adrenaline surges, a heat coursing through my veins.

We dance around each other, each feint or slash pushing the other to respond faster.

For a few moments, I forget the fortress, the wards, and the council’s demands.

It’s just me and her, locked in a primal exchange.

She attempts a sweeping blow aimed at my legs. I jump, hooking my foot beneath her shaft, trying to throw her off balance. She recovers swiftly, pivoting away with catlike grace, lips parted in a slight grin. “Not bad,” she says, voice ragged from exertion. “But you’re still too predictable.”

I grit my teeth, lunging again. Our swords clash overhead, the impact rattling my arms. Her eyes shine with fierce satisfaction.

She jerks her blade free and manages to slide it near my shoulder.

I twist away at the last second, returning a series of rapid slashes that force her onto the defensive.

She backs up, blocking each strike. The slap of wood on wood echoes across the courtyard, stirring the onlooking guards.

She ducks beneath one of my overhead strikes and rams her shoulder into my chest. I stumble back a step, stunned by her boldness.

That raw aggression lights a fire in my gut.

“Good,” I growl, voice low. “But don’t get cocky.

” I sweep my foot behind her knee, trying to send her tumbling.

She anticipates it, however, and leaps aside, a swirl of sand marking her landing.

Her laughter is breathless, tinged with triumph. “You’re the one who might want to watch that pride.”

I tense, a flush of anger and something deeper roiling in me.

Her skill is impressive, but it’s the attitude that gets under my skin.

She’s strong, fearless, and enjoys proving it.

Another part of me admires that refusal to kneel.

It stokes a heated confusion. I bark an order to the guards.

“Clear the ring. We’re fine here alone.”

They hesitate, but my glare brooks no argument. One by one, they retreat to the courtyard’s perimeter. I refocus on Selene, whose chest rises and falls, sweat dampening the tunic at her collar. “Again,” I say, stepping in with renewed force.

Our weapons clash in a punishing rhythm.

I push her harder, seeing if she’ll crack under sustained aggression.

She matches me stroke for stroke, her gaze blazing.

At one point, she feints high, then sweeps low.

I block at the last second, arms shaking with the impact.

My breath comes fast, and I see a drop of sweat roll down her temple.

She’s loving this. So am I, though I’d never admit it.

We break apart, panting. Our swords lower, neither of us fully letting go of the tension. The guard ring stands silent, transfixed. She swallows, tossing her hair back. “Satisfied, Commander?”

I exhale, forcing composure into my tone. “You’re better than most recruits. Skilled with a blade. Tomorrow, we move on to advanced forms. I’ll train you in Orthani’s style, so you can fight alongside my soldiers without stepping on each other’s toes.”

She cocks her head. “So I’m to become a model soldier? Following your orders like a perfect puppet?”

I slam my wooden sword into the sand, half in frustration. “You’re no puppet. I want your skill, not your blind obedience. But don’t test my patience with rebellious stunts. We all know how the council will respond.”

She tenses, a flicker of pain crossing her gaze, perhaps recalling the threat of Zareth’s labs. “Then don’t push me to the point where I have to prove myself in ways you won’t like.”

Our eyes lock again, charged with conflicting energies—resentment, curiosity, that undercurrent of something more primal.

I sense her breathing is uneven, matching my own.

A swirl of unspoken challenge hangs between us.

In that flash of closeness, I almost forget the guards’ presence.

Her lips part as if to hurl another barb, but she bites it back, turning away.

“Fine,” she says, voice subdued. “I’ll do your training, follow your structure. But do not mistake compliance for surrender.”

I nod curtly, ignoring the heat that coils low in my stomach. “Return to your room. We’ll continue at dusk. I’ll show you battlefield tactics. The rest of the day is yours to study my estate, meet the quartermaster for your gear. Guards will shadow you.”

She lifts a brow. “A permanent shadow. Delightful.”

The dryness of her tone makes my mouth twitch. I motion for a guard to step forward. “Escort her inside.”

She doesn’t protest, but as she walks away, she throws me one last glance over her shoulder.

The intensity in her eyes stirs something in my chest—a fierce sensation that is neither purely anger nor lust, but a tangled fusion.

It lingers as she disappears into the estate, her footsteps echoing on the stone path.

Alone in the training circle, I remain for a long moment, trying to dampen the storm swirling in my thoughts.

She’s everything Orthani deems dangerous—powerful, cunning, uninterested in kneeling.

And I’m the one who must channel that into our city’s weapon.

The tension between us sears like a brand.

Part of me wants to pin her to the ground until she begs for mercy, just to show her she can’t best me.

Another part warns that no single victory will ever tame her.

She’s raw flame, dancing just out of reach.

After cleaning the practice swords and restoring order, I head inside, ignoring the stares of servants who sense my restless mood.

In the estate’s war room, I scan through parchments listing potential skirmishes near Orthani’s borders—raiders, rebellious camps rumored to harbor purna.

The city’s expansion never ends. I wonder how Selene will react when I deploy her against other purna or orcs or humans pressed under Orthani’s heel.

The thought unsettles me. But I can’t dwell on moral quandaries.

I have orders from the council. Any moment of doubt is a weakness they’ll exploit.

Night falls swiftly. I return to the courtyard with a single torch, letting the flame cast dancing shadows on the polished stones.

Selene appears again, flanked by a guard.

Her posture is no less haughty. She’s changed into the leathers I had provided—a snug fit that outlines her figure, though she wears them with a look that says she’d rather be in anything else.

“This evening’s lesson is strategy,” I say, showing her a large map of the region pinned to a wooden stand. “You’ll know Orthani’s vantage points, how we outflank enemies, the standard signals in battle. Without that knowledge, you can’t function in my ranks.”

She studies the map, eyes narrowing at the array of lines and markers. “So you want me to memorize your conquests?”

I set the torch in a bracket. “Yes, so you’ll be effective in battle. Let’s see if your wit matches your sword arm.”

She crosses her arms. “Teach me, then.”

I trace a path along the map, showing her the mountainous passes we guard, the roads we control.

She asks pointed questions—about supply lines, weak points, how Orthani maintains its hold on captured territories.

Her intelligence is sharp, and she seems to absorb details quickly.

Yet she doesn’t hide her contempt for the empire.

Each piece of knowledge she gleans can be used against us if she ever breaks free.

I know that, yet I continue teaching. The council demanded I shape her into an asset, and I cannot do that by withholding the tools she needs to fight.

Midway through, she raises a brow. “You’ve marched on countless villages, enslaving humans, orcs, any lesser race. Do you ever question it?”

My chest tightens. “That’s not your concern. Orthani does what it must to survive.”

She lets out a scoff. “Survival at the expense of everyone else, right?”

I turn away, refusing to let her see the flicker of doubt that stirs inside me. “Keep your moralizing. I follow orders just as you will. The world isn’t kind. We can’t afford kindness.”

For a moment, silence settles. Her gaze weighs on my back.

I recall the past, my fiancée executed for protecting a purna.

Part of me wonders if I’m just as complicit in cruelty as the ones who carried out that sentence.

I quell the thought, returning to the map.

“Focus,” I snap. “We have limited time to cover these tactics.”

She shrugs, stepping closer to examine the lines on the parchment.

The proximity draws my awareness to her again—the subtle scent of her skin, the quiet power in her stance.

My pulse quickens, a warmth creeping along my jaw.

I remind myself this is about forging her into a soldier, not indulging whatever twisted attraction lurks beneath.

Her voice softens, though it’s still edged with steel. “I can memorize your lines of attack. But you can’t force me to want Orthani’s victory.”

I grip the edge of the stand. “I only need your skill. Your motivations are your own. Betray me, and you’ll regret it.”

She smirks faintly. “Threaten all you like, Commander.”

Our eyes lock, tension coiling tight between us.

The shadows cast by the torch flicker across her features, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the shape of her mouth.

Heat surges in my veins. The air thickens with the kind of charged energy I’ve only felt at the height of battle.

I can’t tell if I want to crush her defiance or if I’m drawn to it, maybe both. The push and pull gnaws at me.

Suddenly, the guard stationed at the courtyard’s edge steps forward. His voice disrupts the moment. “Commander, a messenger from the council arrived. They request your presence at dawn.”

I exhale, stepping back. “Very well,” I say, forcing my tone steady. “We’re done here for tonight.” I glance at Selene, squashing the roiling emotions in my chest. “Remember what we covered.”

She dips her chin slightly. The guard beckons her to follow him inside. She does so, turning at the last moment to give me a final, smoldering glance. It leaves me standing by the map, heart pounding.

When she’s gone, the courtyard feels oddly empty, the torchlight casting lonely shadows.

My jaw clenches. I vow to keep control, to shape her into a weapon for Orthani, ignoring the voice that wonders if I’m shaping her for something else, something far more dangerous to my carefully maintained world.

I gather the map and extinguish the torch, retreating to my private chambers.

Sleep won’t come easily, not with her defiance echoing in my head.

She’s a storm, unpredictable and enthralling.

I remind myself that letting her under my skin is a mistake.

Still, I sense a growing hunger to see how far she can push me.

Tomorrow, I’ll keep training her. I’ll keep forging her into the perfect fighter Orthani needs.

Each step we take in this forced alliance cracks the rigid shell of discipline I rely on.

I can’t deny there’s a savage thrill whenever she meets my blade or hurls a biting remark.

She’s too alive, too fierce to be ignored.

If I’m not careful, she’ll either slip from my grasp or drag me into a whirlpool of conflicting desire and fury.

As I sink onto my bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling of my chamber, I let out a low breath.

This tension can’t be denied, but I can channel it.

I’ll wield her strength, subdue her rebellious streak just enough to keep her in line.

She’s mine to command—so the council thinks.

If she fights me, I’ll fight back. And if the spark between us flares too bright, I’ll remind us both that Orthani’s demands come before any personal indulgence.

Because I am Vaelith Zothani, a commander sworn to Orthani’s will.

And she is Selene, a captive purna who refuses to bend.

Only time will tell if we destroy each other or emerge stronger.

For now, I clamp down on the tumult in my chest, steel my resolve, and close my eyes.

Dawn will bring a fresh round of training, another clash between her defiance and my iron discipline.

I intend to win. Even if every moment with her feels like treading the edge of a blade, half enthralled, half enraged.

I’ll show her that I’m no feeble overseer and that Orthani cannot be tamed by any wild purna, no matter how tempting the dance.