Chapter 38 Duel of Hearts
The training yard smelled of wet earth and steel the next morning. Rain had fallen through the night, turning the packed dirt into slick mud that clung to boots and bare feet alike. The sky remained low and gray, heavy with the promise of more storms, but no drops fell. The air felt charged, electric, as though the thunder had retreated only to gather strength elsewhere.
I had come early, before the rest of the palace woke, hoping for solitude. Instead, I found Blake and Caleb already there.
They stood at opposite ends of the yard, blades drawn, circling each other with the slow, deliberate steps of men who knew exactly how much damage they could do. No practice swords. Real steel. The kind that sang when it cut air. Their shirts were open, sleeves rolled, hair damp from the mist that clung to everything. Neither looked at me when I stepped through the gate. Their focus was absolute.
