Syrena paled.
“I am just me,” I said, quieter now. “The parts and pieces standing in front of you. No crowns. Just what’s left.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
I looked at her—really looked.
“It’s not much,” I said softly. “But fighting... fighting is something I know.”
The wind tugged gently at the edges of my dress. The ocean murmured below.
And for once, I didn’t fill the silence.
Chapter 8
Leo
I found Elle on the lower training deck, still dressed in that ridiculous gown.
She’d ducked out of the ball early, and it had been noticed. The nobles were combing the gardens with their polite concern and nosy curiosity.
But I didn’t need to search.
I knew exactly where she’d go.
The moonlight hit the marble floor through the high windows in pale slants. Her gown shimmered like a ghost as she moved—barefoot now, one of her heels abandoned near the stairs. She was attacking a wooden dummy with the dull training sword someone had left out. Her strikes were off-balance, shoulders tense, breath harsh.
The hem of her dress was torn. It looked like she had done it on purpose. One of the sleeves had come loose at the shoulder. Her hair—whatever Maddie had done to it—had mostly fallen, wild curls clinging to her face with sweat.
She was attacking a practice dummy like it had personally wronged her.
Over and over.
Blade. Turn. Slam. Again.
There was no rhythm. No technique. Just fury. Raw and quiet.
I stood back and watched for a minute, heart twisting.
“Elira,” I called softly.
She didn’t stop.
“Elle.”
The next strike hit with enough force to crack the wood. The dummy swayed. She stilled, chest rising and falling in hard, shallow breaths.
Then, without turning, she said, “You here to make me go back there?”
“No.” I stepped closer. “I’m just here.”
She finally turned to look at me, her gaze fixed on me like she expected me to argue.
“What?” I said, shrugging. “That ball was boring as shit anyway.”
Elira snorted slightly, like she couldn’t help herself.
Internally I was dancing.
