The morning air was cool, crisp with the scent of dew and something faintly smoky that drifted through the open palace windows. A pale fog hung low over the distant hills, and in the valley below, soldiers were already lining up in neat rows for early drills. Elara sat by the window, silent, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the movement of the army like a distant dream. The golden trim of her black robe shimmered faintly under the light.
The night's rest had been shallow. Her mind wouldn't let her sleep.
Damon hadn't returned to their shared room.
She hadn't expected him to, but it still stung.
There had been a shift between them ever since Jordan's name slipped from her lips during the argument two nights ago. Damon had left without another word, his eyes like hard steel. The next day, he hadn't spoken to her beyond formality. The air between them was colder than the marble floors.
Yet she couldn't blame him—not fully.
Because part of her still remembered Jordan's touch, his laughter, the way he used to make her feel alive.
But those memories were blurry now, overshadowed by Damon's intense gaze, his strength, his strange sense of honor. He confused her. Infuriated her. Intrigued her.
"Elara," came a soft voice from the door.
Nyla stood there—her new lady-in-waiting. A girl from the village, bright-eyed, eager, and still a little shy.
"Yes?" Elara asked, straightening.
"General Damon's bodyguard, Ajani, requests to escort you to the training grounds. The General… requests your presence."
Her heart jolted. She stood up at once. "Did he say why?"
Nyla hesitated. "He said, 'She needs to understand what kind of world she's living in now.'"
---
The training grounds roared with the sounds of combat—the clash of wooden swords, the sharp cries of command, and the rhythmic stomp of boots on packed earth. Damon stood at the center of it all, dressed in full white military uniform, gleaming in the morning sun like a statue of justice. Rows of soldiers surrounded him in formation.
Beside him, Ajani stood tall, eyes scanning the perimeter.
Elara approached slowly, her heart thudding. Every soldier turned to stare. She lifted her chin.
Damon looked at her finally, and something unreadable flickered in his gaze. "Good," he said shortly. "You came."
"You summoned me," she replied, her voice even.
Damon stepped aside and gestured to the row of wooden practice swords. "Pick one."
"What?"
"You said you wanted to survive here," he said. "Then learn. You don't get to play princess in this place. You're under my protection now. And that means being more than just beautiful."
She flinched—but pride rose in her chest.
"Fine." She marched to the rack and chose a lightweight staff. "Teach me."
A faint murmur rippled through the soldiers. Ajani raised an eyebrow, amused.
The next hour was a blur of strikes, stumbles, and gasps. Elara wasn't weak, but she had no combat training. Damon didn't go easy on her. He was relentless, every strike calculated, forcing her to defend, adapt, sweat.
But she never gave up.
Her determination, the fire in her eyes, drew nods from the watching soldiers. Even Ajani gave her a rare approving glance.
At one point, she tripped over her own feet and landed face-first in the dirt. A loud laugh broke from one of the younger soldiers in the crowd.
Elara stood slowly, brushing dust off her face. She turned toward the soldier and raised the staff. "You think that was funny?"
The young man blanched. "N-no, my Lady!"
"Good. Because I'll aim for your nose next time."
Even Damon smirked at that.
Finally, as she collapsed into the dirt, panting, Damon stood over her. "You're not useless," he said. "Good. But don't think you've earned anything yet."
Elara, breathless, smirked. "Wasn't trying to impress you, General."
A flicker of something—perhaps a smile?—touched his lips before he turned away.
---
Later that evening, in the quiet of the garden, Damon found her again. She was seated beneath a cherry blossom tree, bruised, tired, but still radiant. Nyla was nearby, feeding a squirrel with crumbs and giggling at its boldness.
He stood there in silence, his arms crossed.
"You're angry," Elara said softly, not looking at him.
He didn't answer.
"You think I betrayed you with Jordan."
Still nothing.
"I didn't," she said at last. "But I won't apologize for my past. You weren't in it."
Damon stepped forward, crouched beside her, his voice low. "The past is one thing. But he's here now, isn't he? That man is dangerous."
"You're dangerous too," she whispered. "But I'm still here."
Their eyes met—and something cracked. The wall between them shifted slightly.
"Don't make me regret it," Damon said quietly.
"Then don't push me away."
Their moment was interrupted by the distant sound of a bell and the sight of a messenger sprinting across the lawn.
"The documents are ready," the boy said breathlessly. "General, the formal engagement… it's been scheduled for next week."
Elara's breath caught. Her eyes widened.
"Engagement?" she echoed, stunned. "I wasn't informed."
Damon turned to her, his expression unreadable. "It was necessary."
"You could have told me," she said, her voice tight.
"I just did."
He turned away, leaving her speechless under the cherry blossoms.
---
Later, after the sun dipped behind the hills, Ajani reappeared, face tense. "General. We have a situation."
Damon straightened. "What is it?"
"A man claiming to know Lady Elara was caught sneaking past the outer perimeter. He says his name is Jordan."
Elara's blood ran cold.
Damon's face darkened like thunder.
And so began the unraveling of peace.
---