He nodded. “Yes, Commander.”
I jogged down the stairs to the training yards, ready for some kind of distraction, something physical. Something that would take all of my attention and focus to achieve. I finished my bread and took a drink from the water barrel, before running through my own set of warm ups, sword work, and fighting patterns. Thyren warmed up beside me, his presence steadying. He’d been with me for two centuries at least, had seen me through the Long War and the peace that followed. He was slow to speak and quick to assess, which made him my most reliable second.
I looked up to find him watching me with a half-smile.
“What?” I growled.
“Nothing, Commander.” The smile didn’t fade. “Just noting that this is the first time in seventy-three years you’ve been late.”
“I’m not late.” I gestured at the sky, where the sun had barely crested the palace walls.
He looked up at the sky. “Mm-hmm.”
“Do you have something to say, Sergeant?”
“Not at all.” He straightened his posture. “Just thinking about that cute little human and his unconscionably tiny trousers.”
“That’s not your concern. And he calls them shorts.” Fuck, why had I corrected him on that?
“Yes, sir.” His lips twitched.
I ignored him, taking a quarterstaff from the rack and testing its weight. Today would be a basic skills day—the sort of training that had kept us all alive when we’d fought the Great War in the northern forests. No magic. No weapons beyond staffs and batons.
Vaelith and Caelyndris arrived together, Caelyndris moving in that particular silent way she had, as if the air parted for her.Vaelith was loud in her wake, chattering non-stop, but she quieted when she saw me, her posture snapping to attention.
“Morning, Commander.”
We worked through basic fighting forms first, moving in sequence across the ring. Thyren and I stood side by side, matching each other’s movements. My arms were still tight from the previous day’s ride, the muscles in my back stiff. Vaelith kept glancing at me from the corner of her eye, as if I might do something unexpected.
“Vaelith. A bit more focus, if you don’t mind.” I demonstrated a block, then moved into an attack, forcing her to backpedal. “You’re leaving your left side open.”
She grunted, forced into a tight defense. “Yes, sir.”
“Again. Show me a proper block.”
She did, but I was still too hard, driving my staff into hers with more power than I’d intended. She staggered back, catching herself.
“Commander,” she said, but her expression was measured, calm. “That’s the third time you’ve almost taken my head off this morning.”
I frowned, straightening up. “I wasn’t—“
“With respect, you were,” Thyren said. “Something on your mind?”
I straightened my grip on my staff. “This is training. You expect me to go easy on you?”
“No,” Caelyndris said. “We expect you to keep us from getting concussed, is all.”
I paused. She was right. I was being a shade too rough, the sort of thing that would get me a reprimand from the Palace Guards. “Fine. We’ll work at half-pace.”
“Or,” Vaelith said, “you could tell us what’s got you so bent out of shape.”
“Just focus on your footwork.”
Vaelith opened her mouth to argue, but paused, her head tilted to one side. A brief, charged silence fell, and I watched as her expression softened, relaxed. She looked up, eyes wide, and slung her staff into its holder on her back.
“Ilyndra needs me,” she said.
We all nodded. The resonant bond allowed Vaelith to feel Ilyndra’s distress from anywhere on the palace grounds, a constant connection that paid no mind to training schedules.
