Page 26 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Hayes slips past his guard and taps Rye’s forearm, barely a touch, just enough to score. Rye flinches from pain.

Hayes lowers his sword immediately. “What’s wrong?”

I’m already moving. “It’s his right arm.”

Rye’s eyes snap to mine with a clear warning.

“It’s nothing,” Rye says too fast.

I fold my arms. “Then stop favoring your left.”

He doesn’t answer or argue, just holds himself still in a way that isn’t rest. That tells me enough.

Grier starts forward. Then I feel it, the shift in the space. The yard tightens, postures straighten, and sound thins out, like the air’s been pulled taut.

I turn to see King Eldric standing at the edge of the ring. The King doesn’t come up here often, but when he does, it’s deliberate.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, tone light.

Hayes glances at Rye and hesitates.

“Ready?” Rye says, lifting his blade.

I flick a look at Grier, and he gives a near-imperceptible shake of his head, telling me to let it happen. My weight wants to shift forward, but I force it back on my heels.

Hayes raises his sword, and they circle each other. Hayes tests him, pulling his strikes, being careful, too careful.

The King watches with his head tilted, his attention fixed in a way that makes my spine prickle.

“Come now,” the King says pleasantly. “He needs to be ready for the trials.”

Hayes looks at Rye apologetically, then stops holding back.

Each exchange costs Rye more than the last. His right arm is dragging half a beat behind, and there’s a tremor moving through it that he can’t quite control.

I feel the King’s attention sharpen.

Hayes comes in with a combination Rye would counter easily at full strength. Rye overcorrects when he goes to parry, his timing slips just enough for Hayes to cut in and sends his blade skittering across the dirt in front of the entire yard. Hayes pushes in and stops with his sword at Rye’s throat.

The space narrows to the two of them. Rye stands there disarmed, with his chest heaving. When he goes to reach for his blade, his hand shakes.

“You’ve grown too comfortable in the yards,” the King says, his attention shifting to Grier and me, a clear dismissal of Rye.

“Captain,” he continues, “you’re keeping him safe instead of making him ready.”

“We’re building his foundation,” Grier says.

“Breakage is how you learn what holds, not coddling.”

I step forward before I realize I’ve moved.

“We’re training him in the shallows, so he doesn’t drown in the deep.”

The King goes still. He draws a slow breath in through his nose, and his gaze turns to me and holds.

“Where did you hear that?”

My thoughts scatter, and I grab at the first thing that will pass.