Chapter 47
“You are using your emotions to fight. What did I tell you about that?” Knox said emotionlessly.
I growled, my fists tightening as I lunged again.
He sidestepped effortlessly, not even breaking a sweat, his silver eyes flickering with something between boredom and amusement.
I was tired. My muscles ached, my breath was ragged, but I refused to stop. Not yet.
I swung again, this time aiming lower, trying to catch him off guard.
He caught my wrist easily, his grip like steel, and before I could react, he twisted my arm and sent me flat on my back.
I hit the ground with a thud, air rushing from my lungs.
“Pathetic,” he muttered.
I glared up at him. “You-”
Lost,” he interrupted, dropping into a crouch beside me, his face impassive. “Because you’re fighting angry. And that makes you predictable.”
I shoved him off, pushing myself up, chest heaving. “I’m not-”
“You are.” He stood smoothly, rolling his shoulders as if this had been nothing more than a warm–up for him. “And if you don’t stop, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
I hated how calm he sounded.
Like I was a child throwing a tantrum.
Like I wasn’t even worth the effort.
I clenched my fists. “Maybe I want to be angry.”
Knox tilted his head, studying me. “That’s the problem.”
I growled, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You don’t understand.”
His smirk was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Oh, I understand perfectly, You want revenge, but you have no idea how to get it.”
I stilled.
His smirk widened. “That’s why you keep losing.”
My fingers twitched. I wanted to hit him.
I really, really did.
But he was right.
I was fighting without a plan, without control. Just throwing my anger at him, hoping it would be enough.
And it wasn’t.
Knox took a step closer, lowering his voice, “You think Amira fights like this?”
My teeth clenched.
“You think she lets her emotions lead her?”
I said nothing.
Knox’s smirk faded slightly, his silver eyes sharp. “No. She plans. She manipulates. She makes you think you’re winning–night before she rips everything away
I hated that he was right.
He reached out, gripping my wrist firmly but not harshly. “If you want to beat her, you have to be smarter than her.”
I exhaled slowly. “And how do I do that?”
Knox grinned. “By learning how to play the game.”
I swallowed.
“I think I need a break.”
“No, you don’t,” a voice said from behind.
I froze.
That voice.
Deep. Smooth. Unmistakable.
Knox’s expression shifted into something mischievous as he glanced over my shoulder. “Well, well. Your Majesty,” he drawled. “Here to watch your little student fail some more?”
I turned slowly, my breath catching as I met Alaric’s gaze.
He stood just a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his ice–blue eyes unreadable. His presence alone made the training ground feel smaller, like the air had thickened around us.
I swallowed hard,
“You’re sloppy,” he said, walking toward me with slow, measured steps. “Reckless. Letting anger lead your movements. You’re not learning anything this way.”
I scowled, still catching my breath. “And what, exactly, do you suggest I do?”
His lips twitched, just slightly. “I’ll show you.”
Knox grinned like a lunatic. “Oh, this should be fun.”
I shot him a glare, but before I could say anything, Alaric was in front of me.
Close. Too close.
I had to tilt my head up just to hold his gaze, and I hated the way my pulse betrayed me, quickening at his proximity.
His hand lifted slowly, not touching me, but hovering just close enough to make my skin prickle with awareness.
“Attack me,” he murmured.
I blinked. “What?”
“Hit me,” he repeated, his voice steady, firm. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
I hesitated.
Knox snorted from behind me. “I’ll go fetch the healers.”
I ignored him, focusing on Alaric,
His gaze didn’t waver. He was waiting.
Testing me.
Fine.
I moved fast, striking toward his side, aiming for his ribs.
He dodged easily, effortlessly, like he had all the time in the world.
“Too slow,” he said.
I gritted my teeth and tried again, shifting my stance, moving quicker. But again, he was gone before I could land a hit.
I swung harder, frustration growing, but he caught my wrist mid–strike.
I gasped.
Before I could react, he spun me, twisting my arm behind my back and pulling me against his chest, his grip firm but not painful.
I stilled.
His breath was at my ear, his body pressed against mine, his hold unshakable.
“You’re letting me predict you,” he murmured.
My throat went dry.
His heat was everywhere–his strength wrapped around me, his scent flooding my senses, his voice dangerously close.
swallowed. Tried to ignore the way my pulse was pounding.
“You think with your fists, not your head,” he continued, his grip tightening just slightly. “That’s why you’re losing.”
I exhaled sharply. “Then what should I be doing?”
He let go abruptly, stepping back. I turned, forcing myself to steady my breathing, even as my skin still burned from where he had touched me.
Alaric’s expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his gaze.
“Use your surroundings,” he said simply. “Use distractions. Stop assuming brute force will get you what you want.”
I inhaled deeply, trying to regain control of myself.
‘This wasn’t just about training.
This was a power play.
And I was losing.
Alaric tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping just for a second–to my lips.
Heat crawled up my spine.
I hated how my body reacted, how every part of me was hyper–aware of him.
His hand lifted again, this time brushing against my wrist, featherlight, but intentional.
“Again,” he said, voice low.
I hesitated.
Not because I was scared of losing.
But because for the first time-
I wasn’t sure if this was a fight or something else entirely.
I lunged again, but this time, I changed direction at the last second, feinting left, then right, trying to catch him off guard.
It almost worked.
Almost
But just as I thought I had the advantage, he grabbed me again–but this time, it was different.
This time, when he twisted me, it wasn’t an attempt to restrain me,
It was something else entirely.
One second, I was trying to land a strike.
The next-
His lips were on mine.
My breath caught.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was claiming, rough, demanding–like he was taking control the way he always did.
My fingers tightened against his tunic, my body reacting before my mind could catch up.
And then-
He pulled away, his br
eathing slightly uneven, his eyes darkening as he studied me.
“Lesson one,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re too easily distracted.”
I couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t think.
What did he expect after he fucking kissed me?
