A cold knot of dread twisted in my stomach. His green eyes gleamed with recognition. His brow furrowed as his suspicions were validated. He knew there was something between us.
Therehad beensomething between us.
He followed his father, and the blade master crossed his arms, head tilted. “Do you have a blade, Princess?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see it.”
I froze. “It’s... in a discreet location.” My heart sank. The one time I chose to wear a Radaanian dress—it concealed everything I needed under it.
“If I’m to train you, I need to know what you’re fighting with.” His gaze flicked to my skirts, his neck flushing with a sudden heat.
I bit my cheek, shrugging with a raised shoulder as I tugged at the edge of my dress. I wore breeches, but Jerek’s sharp intake of breath and the shuffle of the Thresher behind me told me the sight was still improper.
My palm slid beneath the fabric, pulling free Kallias’ dagger. As I stood, the hem of my skirts kissed the sand, and I handed the weapon hilt-first to Jerek.
Small, the blade was just a touch longer than my hand. Simple gold made up the hilt, ivy winding around it with no jewels or ornamentation. It was crafted for one thing: protection.
“Where did you get that?” Tallon froze, his gaze snapping to mine, his expression hard.
I glanced at Kallias. His jaw clenched as he swung his sword with a fluid rhythm. His movements were sharp, powerful, muscles flexing beneath his tunic with each strike as he purposefully ignored the exchange.
The prince whipped toward his father, eyes burning.
“Disappointed it isn’t yours?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and both men faced me.
Kallias faltered. A quick glance shot my way before he turned his back, resuming his movements.
Tallon’s lip curled in a sneer, but he said nothing.
Relief washed over me. I wasn’t just keeping Kallias’ secrets—I was safeguarding Tallon’s, too.
I remembered the hunger in his eyes when he found the prince’s dagger on me, the bloodlust when I admitted that his son suspected something. What would he do if he knew Tallon attacked me beneath the balcony? His mask was already cracking; he didn’t need more weight to carry.
“It’s a fine blade.” Jerek’s voice, rough and raspy, drew me back. “But with this, there’s little I can teach you. If someone gets close enough for you to use it, it’ll be a mad scramble for survival.”
He flipped the dagger, the steel clinking. Behind me, Tallon and Kallias’ swords clanged together, and I fought the urge to flinch. Greaves’ gaze was fixed on their movements, eyes tracking every strike.
“I should start with self-defense, but…” Jerek hesitated, eyeing me. “It’s wiser to use your Thresher. He knows better than I.”
I turned to the giant in black leather armor. His arms were crossed, his chest broad, and he didn’t shy from my gaze. Instead, his eyes narrowed, a sharp glare meeting mine.
The only warriors I had seen with tattoos were Threshers, the dark ink of his mark peeked from the collar of his tunic.
“We’ll use your fists in place of your dagger.” Jerek set my weapon on a table and moved closer. “An attacker will always try to sneak up on you. Thresher, what’s your name?”
Gray eyes flicked to the man, an eyebrow lifting in silent response. That icy gaze returned to me, sending a shiver down my spine. He could snap me in half without effort. Lucky for me, he was charged with protecting me, not hunting me.
“It’s only polite to know the name of my sparring partner.” I smiled, tilting my head, trying to sound lighthearted—but it wasn’t the playful gesture I intended. It felt more like offering my throat to a dragon.
He inhaled, his chest expanding with the effort. “Lynx.”
“Nienna,” I replied, dipping into the slightest curtsy. A silent thank you.
He didn’t react, but his lips formed a line, his massive arms lowering to his sides.
“You understand he’ll lay hands on you, Your Highness?” Jerek asked.
