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Sulien, meanwhile, had become a spectacle. If Ruri went left, he went left. If she paused to speak to someone, he appeared three heartbeats later, attempting the expression of a man who just happened to be passing through.

He volunteered for training sessions he had absolutely no business attending.

Archery practice? Hated it, but there he was.Footwork drills? Apparently essential now.Advanced twin-blade forms? "Always meant to refine that," he muttered.

He stood at the edge of sparring circles with folded arms, pretending deep, tactical interest while watching Ruri's every movement like a hawk tracking prey.

If another man sparred with her, Sulien's jaw would tighten visibly.

And if that man smiled at her? The temperature dropped to freezing. Once, when a broad-shouldered warrior offered to "correct her stance," Sulien materialised behind him, asking to be corrected as well.

"Is there a problem?" he asked mildly.

The man blinked. "No."

"Good."

Ruri shot Sulien a bemused glance while he worked at shielding her from view.

Ruri ignored him, or tried to, but he was as subtle as a white elephant. And the more she ignored him, the more determined he became.

He was relentless and faintly amusing to everyone in the village except for Ruri.

Kenji did not find it amusing as he watched with a sour expression that never quite left his face.

Blaidd hovering at the edges of Fae's life did not sit well with Kenji, though he understood how life bonds worked. He understood why Blaidd stood sentinel during her runs, why he lingered near the woodshop door. He got why Blaidd looked at her like she was something carved from light, because he looked at her the same way.

He understood, but that did not lessen Kenji's hostility. Blaidd did not deserve her.

The tension between them came to a head during training. It was inevitable that it would break.

It started as a drill.

That was the official version.

They were rotating partners in the clearing, wooden blades in hand, the rhythm of strike and parry steady and disciplined.

Then, after Blaidd carried his partner out of the ring like a ragdoll, Kenji stepped into the ring. Blaidd knew what was coming and turned to face him.

Kenji stepped into the circle like he had been waiting for this moment all week.

"Oh, good," he said, "the mountain wants to spar."

Blaidd tilted his head. "Try not to trip over your own feet."

"Try not to break the floor when you fall," Kenji shot back, rolling his shoulder. "We just repaired it."

Blaidd's mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

They bowed.

The first exchange was clean.

Wood struck wood.Block.Turn.And again.

Kenji was lightning-fast on his feet, wrist flicking with precision, wooden blade dancing in arcs too fast for the untrained eye.

Blaidd was raw power, and he absorbed the impact like it was nothing.