Chapter Ten: The Pleasure of Control
Vaelor was never in danger.
That truth settled into Ruria's bones slowly, like a chill that never quite left. No matter how close enemies came, no matter how sharp Kaelis's blade work became, no matter how tense the air grew within the castle walls, Vaelor remained untouched. Unhurried. Unconcerned.
He watched everything.
And he enjoyed being watched.
Ruria realized this not during battle or training, but during something far quieter.
Breakfast.
The three of them sat at the long obsidian table, sunlight filtering through the high windows, catching on crystal goblets and polished stone. Kaelis sat to Vaelor's left, posture straight, movements precise. Ruria sat to his right, close enough to feel the faint, unnatural warmth he always carried.
Vaelor drank slowly.
He noticed everything.
Kaelis reached for the fruit platter. Vaelor did not stop her.
Instead, he said casually,
"You favor your right hand when you eat."
Kaelis paused. "It's dominant."
"No," Vaelor replied mildly. "It's injured."
Ruria looked sharply at Kaelis's hand.
There was a faint stiffness in her fingers. Barely noticeable.
Kaelis stiffened. "You've been watching."
"I always watch," Vaelor said.
He reached out and, without asking, took Kaelis's wrist. His grip was not rough. Not gentle either. Simply firm. Controlled. He turned her hand slightly, exposing an old scar near the tendon.
Kaelis inhaled sharply.
"It never healed properly," Vaelor continued, tone almost conversational. "You compensate well. But when you overextend, your hand trembles."
Ruria watched, unsettled.
This was not kindness.
This was not concern.
This was dissection.
Vaelor released Kaelis's wrist and returned to his drink.
"You'll train left-handed today," he said. "It will hurt."
Kaelis hesitated. "And if I refuse?"
Vaelor smiled faintly.
"You won't."
Kaelis swallowed. "Yes, my lord."
Ruria said nothing, but her stomach tightened.
Later, in the training hall, Vaelor did not participate.
He leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, crimson eyes following every movement as Ruria sparred with Kaelis. Kaelis struggled at first, her left hand clumsy, her movements slower.
Vaelor did not intervene.
He let her fail.
Again.
And again.
When Kaelis finally stumbled, dropping her blade, Vaelor spoke.
"Pick it up."
Kaelis knelt, breathing hard. "My hand is numb."
"Good," Vaelor replied. "That means you're learning."
Ruria turned toward him. "Vaelor, she's pushing past injury."
He met Ruria's gaze calmly.
"She is discovering her limits," he said. "There is pleasure in that. Even if she doesn't recognize it yet."
That word again.
Pleasure.
Kaelis retrieved the blade, hands shaking.
"Why do you do this?" she asked suddenly.
Vaelor tilted his head. "Do what?"
"Watch us suffer," Kaelis said. "You could make this easier."
Vaelor stepped forward at last.
The air changed.
He stopped in front of Kaelis, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
"Easier," he repeated softly. "Is never memorable."
He leaned down slightly, voice lowering just enough that Ruria had to listen closely.
"Pain teaches awareness. Frustration sharpens instinct. And endurance," he continued, eyes gleaming, "reveals character."
Kaelis's breath quickened.
"You enjoy this."
Vaelor smiled.
"Yes."
Not denial. Not shame.
Just truth.
Ruria's heart thudded.
He straightened and turned to her.
"And before you worry," he added calmly, "I would never break something I find interesting."
Ruria did not know whether to be reassured or terrified.
That night, Ruria lay beside him in silence.
Vaelor did not touch her.
Which somehow felt worse.
"You're different with her," Ruria said quietly.
He did not open his eyes. "Am I?"
"You provoke her. You push her. You smile."
A pause.
Then Vaelor spoke, voice low, thoughtful.
"She reacts."
Ruria turned onto her side, facing him. "And I don't?"
His eyes opened.
Crimson. Awake. Focused.
"You react internally," he said. "She reacts externally."
He reached out then, fingers brushing Ruria's wrist.
"I enjoy both."
Ruria's breath hitched. "Enjoy?"
"Watching," he said. "Testing. Seeing how far someone bends before they realize they are not being forced."
He leaned closer, lips near her temple, but not touching.
"You stayed," he murmured. "She resists. Both choices interest me."
Ruria whispered, "Is that all we are to you?"
He was silent for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he said,
"No."
That was all.
No explanation.
No comfort.
Just a word that felt heavier than any confession.
Across the castle, Kaelis sat alone in her chamber, hand aching, thoughts unsettled.
She realized something that night.
Vaelor did not hurt people because he was cruel.
He hurt them because he understood them.
And that was far more dangerous.