Lyria — POV
From the very moment Raven stepped into the training yard, my heart betrayed me. It began to race—fast, uneven—so loud in my chest that I was convinced everyone around me could hear it echoing like a war drum. Yet somehow, my body obeyed my silent command. My posture remained composed, my grip steady around the hilt of my wooden sword, and I fought to keep my face calm and unreadable. At least, I hoped it was.
Raven noticed. Of course she did. Her keen eyes lingered on me longer than usual, sharp and observant, quietly searching for something beneath the surface. Several times, she asked if I was alright, her voice low and careful, as though she feared she might shatter my composure with just a word.
"I'm fine," I assured her each time, the words slipping from my lips with a practiced ease that masked the turmoil within. But each time, she didn't look convinced.
Part of me liked that. No—more than liked it. I relished the way she watched me, as if every small movement I made mattered to her. I cherished the moments when she noticed the pauses between my breaths, those fleeting seconds when my attention wavered. I liked that she cared enough to inquire again, her concern palpable in the air around us.
But another part of me was unbearably tense. The way she looked at me—so calm, so focused—made it impossible to think clearly, as though her gaze were a spell that warped reality, drawing my thoughts away from the routine of training. My mind refused to stay where it should.
Instead of concentrating on footwork and parries, my thoughts tangled around her.
Around how stubborn she was.
How she repeatedly ignored her own limits pushing herself beyond what seemed reasonable .
How she smiled and claimed she was fine even when she clearly wasn't and her exhaustion was clear as day.
It angered me.
She frightened me.
And somehow… it made me long to be closer to her.
The contradiction twisted painfully inside my chest. While I trained, my body moved on instinct—years of discipline guiding my hands even as my thoughts spiraled elsewhere. Raven demonstrated a series of intricate strikes, her movements fluid and precise, while Kara followed eagerly, her youthful energy infectious. I mirrored every motion, striving for precision, yet I felt distant, as if I were watching myself from a great distance, detached from the reality unfolding around me.
As I trained, the sounds of the yard faded into the background—the rhythm of wood striking wood, Kara's steady breathing, the faint rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze—consumed by the tumult of my thoughts. Raven's voice cut through the haze.
"Princess… you're drifting."
I blinked, and the training yard snapped back into focus. I saw the familiar faces of my companions, the intensity of their training, and the quiet presence of my younger sister observing from the sidelines, her eyes wide with admiration.
"I'm fine," I said again, perhaps too quickly, as if I could convince myself as much as her. I felt her gaze linger on me, heavy and penetrating, like a weight against my skin.
For a heartbeat, I almost spoke. Almost let the words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. How terrified I had been when she nearly collapsed yesterday, the panic that clawed at my insides when she ignored my protests and left the training yard. The thought of losing her—even to something as simple as exhaustion—terrified me more than I was willing to admit.
Yet, as I wrestled with my own vulnerability,
But the words lay trapped in my chest.
Should I tell her?
Should I confess?
What if I ruin everything?
What if she pulls away?
What if she looks at me the same calm way she always does—and tells me she only sees me as a student?
Or worse…
A friend.
My grip tightened around the wooden sword, knuckles whitening as I fought against the tempest within me. I couldn't keep pretending my feelings didn't exist. I was exhausted from forcing them down, tired of smiling through the ache that had become a constant companion in my heart.
But I was afraid. Afraid that once spoken, there would be no turning back. No retreat from the raw honesty that would spill forth like a tide, sweeping away the carefully constructed barriers I had built around my heart.
So instead, I stayed silent. I focused on training, on movement, on breathing. I threw myself into the rhythm of our exercises, hoping that the physicality of it would drown out the noise inside me.
The training yard became my sanctuary, each swing of the sword a plea for clarity, each thrust a desperate attempt to keep my feelings at bay. And yet, as I glanced at Raven, her intense gaze fixed upon mine, I knew this battle was far from over.
As I stood there, caught in the whirlwind of my thoughts, I felt a familiar tide rising within me—an overwhelming surge of emotions I could no longer ignore. I turned my face slightly away from Raven, allowing my breath to escape in a quiet sigh, careful to keep it soft enough that he wouldn't hear. It was a small, silent release, a momentary lapse in my façade.
*I can't avoid my feelings anymore,* I admitted to myself, the words echoing in my mind like an undeniable truth. *Not for much longer.* The uncertainty of what lay ahead loomed like a shadow, heavy and foreboding. I had no clear plan, no roadmap to guide me through this tumultuous terrain of my heart, but one thing was painfully clear:
I couldn't keep standing this close to Raven—feeling this much—and pretending everything was fine.
The training had settled into a rhythm that felt almost meditative. By the time we reached the midpoint of our session, the movements and breaths intertwined, becoming a part of me, grounding me in the present. The sound of our wooden swords clashing created a symphony of focus and discipline, echoing across the yard in a steady, controlled manner. But just as I began to lose myself in the rhythm, the atmosphere shifted—a subtle, yet unmistakable change that sent a shiver down my spine.
I felt her before I saw her.
A presence stepped into the training ground, heavy and commanding, impossible to ignore. It was as if the very air around us thickened, reshaping itself to accommodate her arrival.
Elyra Voss.
The legendary hunter, a name whispered with reverence and awe.
She entered with a calm, measured confidence that was palpable. Her posture was straight, every movement she made was effortless, as if she were gliding across the ground rather than walking. There was no hint of unnecessary tension in her body—only the quiet certainty of someone who had faced the harshest trials life could offer and emerged sharper for it. Her eyes were keen and experienced, the kind that missed nothing, and although a faint smile rested on her lips, it did little to soften the weight of her presence.
This was a woman who had faced death—and taught it to hesitate.
Raven noticed her instantly.
She lowered her sword and moved toward her mentor with a small, genuine smile—one I rarely saw directed at anyone else.
"Are you finished speaking with the King?" Raven asked.
"Yes," Elyra replied smoothly. "I am. And you? Are you done here?"
"Not yet," Raven said. "We took a short break. We'll continue soon. You could stay—and when I'm finished, we can return together."
Elyra's gaze shifted to me.
"I wouldn't mind , if the princess doesn't mind ," she said, then inclined her head slightly, her voice respectful yet firm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."
I straightened instinctively, meeting her gaze with a smile.
"The pleasure is mine," I replied. "Meeting a legendary hunter is an honor. And I don't mind at all if you stay."
"Thank you," Elyra said. "I'll sit quietly and observe."
I hesitated for only a moment before adding, "You're welcome to join us, if you'd like."
She chuckled softly and shook her head.
"Thank you for the offer, but I'll decline." Then she glanced at Raven. "You have an excellent teacher. Raven speaks highly of you—your speed, your discipline, your strength."
I froze.
Raven talks about me?
Heat rushed to my face before I could stop it. I turned my eyes away quickly, hoping no one noticed the sudden warmth creeping into my cheeks.
"She truly is an excellent instructor," I said, managing a composed smile. "I'm grateful for her."
Raven said nothing—but I could feel her presence beside me, steady and quiet.
Training resumed.
For another half hour, we moved without pause—attack, defense, counter. Sweat clung to my skin, my muscles burned, yet I welcomed the strain. It kept my thoughts from wandering too far.
When Raven finally called an end to the session, I exhaled deeply, lowering my sword.
As Elyra approached us, her presence commanded attention. Her gaze was sharp and assessing, as if she could see right through the façade we sometimes wore. "You really are improving quickly," she remarked, a nod of acknowledgment accompanying her words. "Just as Raven said. You work hard."
A smile crept onto my face, but I wanted to add a bit of spice to the moment, to nudge Raven just a little. "Yes. We work so hard that Raven nearly collapsed yesterday during training. I even offered her a place to rest here—but she refused and left." I let the words hang in the air, deliberately chosen.
The slight widening of Raven's eyes told me she hadn't expected that. It was a small victory, a moment I'd crafted to make my point. Maybe, just maybe, if Raven wouldn't listen to us, she would heed Elyra's warning.
Elyra's expression shifted, darkening like clouds rolling in before a storm. She stepped forward, her hand striking Raven's shoulder with a sharp smack. It wasn't meant to cause pain, but it was firm enough to sting—a reminder of the authority she wielded. "How many times have I told you not to push your body beyond its limits?" she snapped, her voice filled with frustration. "Do you ever listen?"
Raven stiffened, her composure faltering. "It wasn't like that," she hastily defended herself, a hint of unease creeping into her tone. "I didn't collapse—I just felt a little dizzy, that's all."
I tilted my head innocently, playing my part with feigned innocence. " what are you talking about, You were about to faint."
The look Raven shot me wasn't angry or offended; it was almost pleading. *Please don't make this worse.* I couldn't help it, though. A quiet laugh slipped from my lips, a mix of amusement and nervousness bubbling up.
Elyra let out a heavy sigh, her frustration palpable. "We'll discuss this when we get home," she muttered, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You'll be punished."
Raven visibly paled at the thought, a flicker of fear crossing her features. Then, leaning toward me, she whispered with a wicked smile, "I'll make you pay for betraying me. Tomorrow I'll make you train until you're exhausted, until you feel like every bone in your body is broken."
A shiver ran through me at her words. She was so close, her breath warm against my skin, and I felt my temperature rise. I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze directly, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.
As Elyra and Raven prepared to leave, my younger sister Evanna tugged at the back of Raven's shirt, her small hand gripping the fabric with an innocent urgency. Raven, ever attentive, immediately knelt in front of her, resting on one knee. Her expression softened, a gentle smile lighting her features. "What is it, princess?" she asked, her voice tender.
Evanna hesitated, her small voice barely above a whisper. "Can I join you too… when I'm free?"
Raven's smile widened, and she lightly ruffled Evanna's hair, a gesture filled with warmth. "You're always welcome. You can join us anytime you want."
With that, Evanna's face lit up, her joy infectious. She ran to my side, beaming, while Raven bowed once more, her departure marked by a sense of finality. I watched her go, my chest feeling strangely tight, a mix of emotions swirling within me.
For reasons I still didn't fully understand, I found myself hoping she would listen next time. Perhaps the next time I spoke, it would be with the weight of sincerity that could reach her, a plea buried beneath the surface of our playful rivalry.