Kaelis had never allowed herself to rest.
Even now, standing alone in the outer training grounds beneath a sky bruised with twilight, her body moved through familiar forms with mechanical precision. Slash. Turn. Guard. Thrust. Each movement was exact, economical, stripped of excess emotion.
Assassins survived by control.
She had learned that lesson early.
Her blade cut through the air again, faster this time, frustration bleeding into the motion. She stopped abruptly, breath steady, eyes narrowing.
"You're distracted."
Vaelor's voice came from behind her.
Kaelis did not turn immediately. Her grip tightened slightly around the hilt.
"I wasn't aware I was required to entertain you," she replied coolly.
"You're not," Vaelor said. "But you are inefficient tonight."
That earned his attention.
She turned then, meeting his gaze evenly. Crimson eyes regarded her with their usual intensity, not judgmental, not approving. Simply observing.
"Your strikes are heavier," he continued. "Your balance is off by a fraction. You hesitate before finishing motions."
Kaelis scoffed. "I lost an arm and regained it in the same day. Forgive me if I'm imperfect."
Vaelor stepped closer.
"You are not imperfect," he said calmly. "You are conflicted."
Silence settled between them.
Kaelis exhaled slowly. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet," he replied, "I am."
She sheathed her blade with a sharp motion. "If you came to mock me, leave."
"I came because you interest me," Vaelor said.
Her eyes flickered.
"That's a mistake," she said flatly.
Kaelis had been forged by violence.
She had been raised by a sect that did not believe in childhood. Only utility. She was taught to kill before she was taught to read. Trained to disappear. To obey contracts without question. To accept pain as currency.
Affection was weakness.
Attachment was death.
When she was sent to assassinate Vaelor, she had accepted the job without fear. No one survived close proximity to him, but death in pursuit of a contract was preferable to disobedience.
She remembered the moment clearly.
The blade at his throat.
The realization that he had been aware of her presence for minutes.
The way he had looked at her, not with anger, but with curiosity.
Then Ruria had intervened.
And everything had changed.
"You spared me," Kaelis said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "You had no reason to."
Vaelor regarded her. "Incorrect."
She frowned. "Then explain it."
"You failed," he said simply. "That alone disqualified you from death."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're saying incompetence saved me?"
"I am saying potential did," he replied.
She studied his face, searching for mockery. Finding none.
"You could have made me a weapon," she said. "Forced obedience. Broken me."
"Yes."
"You didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
Vaelor tilted his head slightly. "Because broken things are predictable. You are not."
That answer unsettled her more than cruelty would have.
They walked the perimeter of the training grounds in silence for a time. The castle loomed above them, dark and eternal. Kaelis realized she was not afraid to be alone with him.
That frightened her.
"You don't look at me like the others do," she said finally.
Vaelor glanced at her. "How do they look at you?"
"As a blade," she replied. "A tool. A danger."
"And I do not?"
"No," she said quietly. "You look at me like a choice."
He stopped walking.
So did she.
"That is because you are one," he said.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
She turned away, jaw clenched. "I don't belong here."
"You do," Vaelor said. "You chose to stay."
She laughed softly. "You make it sound voluntary."
"It was," he replied. "You could have left."
She knew that was true.
And that knowledge weighed heavier than chains.
Later that night, Kaelis stood watch outside the inner chambers. Ruria was inside, asleep. The castle was quiet.
Vaelor emerged silently, stopping beside her.
"You're guarding her," he observed.
"Yes."
"Even though she doesn't need it."
"Yes."
He looked at her, expression unreadable. "You are loyal."
"I owe her my life," Kaelis said.
"And me?"
She hesitated.
"You didn't take it," she said finally.
Vaelor studied her for a long moment.
Then he reached out and placed something in her palm.
A dagger.
Black steel. Perfectly balanced. Etched with sigils she recognized immediately.
"This was mine," he said.
Her breath caught. "You don't give weapons away."
"I do," he replied, "when I trust someone not to use them foolishly."
Her fingers curled around it instinctively.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
Vaelor leaned closer, his voice low, almost intimate.
"Because one day," he said, "you may have to choose between killing for me… or standing against me."
Her pulse spiked.
"And you're preparing me?"
"I'm observing you," he corrected. "To see what you become."
He stepped back.
Kaelis stared after him, chest tight, mind racing.
She had lived her entire life as a blade.
For the first time, she wondered what it meant to be more than that.
And in the quiet of the corridor, holding the dagger he had trusted her with, Kaelis realized something terrifying.
She no longer thought of Vaelor as a target.
She thought of him as a presence.
And worse.
She wanted his attention again.