Page 9

9

NORA

P ain is a cruel teacher.

Rhaegar is crueler.

The world narrows to nothing but movement, heat, and the cold, unrelenting presence of him as I dodge, pivot, strike. My muscles scream, my magic hums beneath my skin, still raw and untamed after what he did to me.

After what I let him do.

His golden eyes burn , watching me with unforgiving patience . He doesn’t speak as I throw another strike, doesn’t react when I miss my mark, again.

Only when I stumble does he move.

He strikes fast , one moment, he’s standing in front of me, the next, I am pinned beneath him , my back pressed to the damp earth. A growl rumbles low in his chest , a dark sound of disapproval.

"Again," he orders, his voice like crushed obsidian and fire.

I shove him off, chest heaving, my palms burning with the energy I’m struggling to control.

Rhaegar wants me to fight.

But this is not fighting. This is something else.

I glare at him, but he only smirks , tilting his head, considering. "Your hesitation will get you killed," he says, circling me now, the way a predator does when it’s deciding whether to kill or play with its food.

Something hot and twisted stirs inside me.

I shake it off. This is not attraction.

This is anger.

I launch myself at him again. Magic sparks , too wild, too unfocused. He dodges easily.

I hate how effortless he makes it look.

"You have power now," Rhaegar murmurs, still circling, still watching. "But power without control is just?—"

I move before he can finish.

Faster.

Sharper.

I aim for his throat, channeling the strange new magic in my blood , twisting it into something sharp, something lethal.

But Rhaegar moves like a shadow breaking apart.

One moment, he is solid , the next, he is behind me, his claws curling around my wrist, twisting me until my back is flush against his chest.

A sharp inhale catches in my throat.

His breath is warm against my neck, his grip iron-clad, inescapable.

"You hesitate," he murmurs, voice dark with something close to amusement. "You hold back."

I shudder , hating how my body reacts to the closeness, hating the way the bond pulses , thick with something I don’t want to name.

I struggle, but it’s useless.

"Let go," I grit out.

"You want to fight?" His voice drops , low and dangerous. "Then fight me."

A slow, mocking challenge.

I move on instinct, twisting out of his hold, using my momentum to strike , my magic snapping like a whip through the air.

This time, I hit my mark.

A sizzling burn blooms across his ribs, not enough to wound, but enough to shock him.

Rhaegar laughs.

The sound twists something deep inside me b ecause it isn’t amusement.

It’s something darker. Something satisfied.

I hate the way my pulse betrays me , how my chest heaves, not just from exertion, but from something else.

Something I refused to entertain and delved into.

Because this isn’t attraction.

This is hate, fear, and power all at once.

"Good," Rhaegar purrs, rolling his shoulders as if he actually enjoyed the pain. "You’re finally waking up."

I swallow hard, staggering back, creating distance.

"You’re not training me," I say, voice raw. "You’re twisting me. "

Rhaegar’s golden eyes flash.

"I’m making you stronger," he corrects. "And soon, we will take that strength and unleash it upon those who deserve it. The dark elves, our enemies. The hunters."

I inhale sharply. Unleash it.

He means destruction. He means vengeance.

And part of me wants it. It uncoils and welcomes the idea of starting chaos and destruction.

The dark elves hunted me . They poisoned me, tried to break me . The purna abandoned me , turned their backs when I needed them most.

Maybe it is my turn to make them suffer.

A sharp ache pulses in my core, like something inside me is shifting , stretching into something new.

I look down at my hands, at the tendrils of silver magic curling between my fingers.

I don’t myself. But Rhaegar does.

He sees the monster forming beneath my skin.

And I think he likes it.