Chapter 5

Calen

Exhaustion weighs on my shoulders as I sit alone in the dimly lit office. Another long day of administrative tasks, logistics plans, recruitment directives, and supply manifests leaves me drained.

I miss the days Azran and I spent in the field, training men, sparring in the practice ring, or gathering intel.

I rub the ache in my temples, eyes burning from studying maps and reports.

What I wouldn’t give for Az to be back, to be surrounded by the grunt of men lifting weights in the yard, or the roar of loud conversations in the refectory. For Ela to be awake, raising chaos and leading Vesta and the twins into a sea of troubles. What I wouldn’t give for Az and Ela to be here with all of us. After his past tore them apart, gods know they deserve to find each other in peace.

Alone behind this desk, I only encounter my soldiers’ names in neatly inked rosters or requests for provisions, and Vesta’s cheerful laugh rarely reaches my ears.

With cold determination, I take up my quill once more and sign another document.

These weeks spent behind Azran’s desk are turning me into a perfect bureaucrat and killing me slowly. Were it not for Vesta, I would have lost my mind long ago.

Bracing my elbows on the cluttered desk, head cradled in my hands, I picture Vesta’ smile and her voice echoes through my memory, its musical tone backed by iron that matches her fierceness. From the moment I first saw her sparring hand-to-hand as a new recruit, she took my breath away, and she still does.

Things changed since Adria. After we survived the deadly blast, she didn’t leave my side and she was there when I needed her the most, taking over the command of the army so I could reach Az and Ela. Even now, she gives me strength, reminding me of the importance of our goal—defeating the remnants of Braern’s movement and fighting for peace.

She came back changed; we all did. Facing imminent death does that to a person, a ruthless reminder life can be cut short at any moment.

I try to tame the hope fueling my heart when I catch her staring at me or when her eyes can’t hide the desire flooding her body, but something tells me not to give up on her, on us. I can’t wish my feelings for her into inexistence and I refuse to even try. I know how amazing we could be together, if only she would see it too.

I straighten, backbone infused anew with iron, and resume my review of various missives.

The familiar clash of metal raises the hair on my arms in anticipation. There’s nothing quite like a sword fight to properly wake me. A thousand times more invigorating than an ice bath, especially when your adversary is a stunning redhead warrior with lethal technique. One wrong move and it’s my ear Vesta will cut.

These sparring sessions are a much-needed distraction as weeks blend together and we wait for Azran’s next report. I’m making little to no progress with Brimora, and these stolen moments with Vesta are the only highlights of my days.

Azran has always refused to send spies to Zetrea, but I’ve been toying with the idea for a few days. We could really use eyes and ears there. He’s not here to spoil my fun, anyway.

Vesta’s sword swings an inch from my face as I step back.

“Careful there, General. Desk work doesn’t suit you.” Her eyes shine with mischief as I parry and deal a blow at full speed. She counters quickly, twisting her blade free. A smile blooms on her face that I return, set on not letting her win this round. However joyful Vesta may be, she doesn’t joke when it comes to training.

Cheers mix with shouts around us as soldiers watch our sparring, encouraging us both.

Her braid flies in the air with each of her moves as she bends and arches her body. My muscles protest when I launch towards her face, but I keep going. She avoids the blow at the last second with a snarl and fire in her eyes.

The soldiers around us observe our dance, but I pay them no heed. Sitting at a desk all day is clearly not the best training. It’s going to take all my focus to keep my ears intact, and I love my ears as much as the next Fae.

Our blades lock together, bringing us an inch from each other, and my gaze darts to her mouth. Breaking free, Vesta steps aside before launching another attack that I parry.

I step back and reposition myself, readying for another bout, when Vesta’s stare drifts behind me. Shock paints her features as her brows raise, and a grin forms on my face.

“Cheap trick, V. You can do better than that.”

Relentless, I wield my sword in an arc aiming at her pretty neck.

My eyes widen when Vesta lowers her sword while mine nears her face.

Pulling my blow at the last second, an inch from her skin, I still.

“What’s—” I begin a sentence I don’t finish, seeing she’s frozen in shock.

Panting, her chest raises rapidly, but her gaze is still fixed behind me.

“General.”

I turn to identify the cause of this interruption as Vesta finally stirs from her trance and takes a step forward. A Fae wearing the healers’ braid is standing in the entrance of the training center, a ribbon of white silk intertwined in their brown hair.

“It’s the Unifier.”

My heart stops, and color drains from Vesta’s face. As I lower my blade, she steps closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me, tension radiating from our bodies.

“She’s awake.”

Vesta and I lock eyes for a second before she breaks into a run, not leaving me a chance to say a word.

Following after her, Vesta’s boots hit the paved courtyard loudly as I catch up.

We climb the stairs leading to the palace entrance three steps at a time, guards watching us wide-eyed.

“Make way,” I command, and they crush themselves to the walls to let us go through.

My heart is beating out of my chest as Vesta accelerates on the last steps.

“Wait up.”

She doesn’t slow one bit.

“Damn it,” I say as I race after her. To hell with appearances.

She pushes the massive double doors open and makes for the marble stairs leading to Ela’s room.