Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 26: The Arena

The arena stretched before me, vast and silent, exactly as I'd last seen it. Rows of weaponry gleamed on the walls—swords of every conceivable length and design, some pristine and polished, others bearing the honorable scars of countless battles. The only difference was Darian, who stood off to the side, his gaze sharp and discerning as he scrutinized the blades.

Seeing him again sent a riot of butterflies through my stomach, a familiar flutter that was both unwelcome and undeniably thrilling. I forced my feet to move, one step after another, carrying me towards him.

The memory of last night still burned, a phantom touch on my lips. How had this happened? Falling for the very person I'd sworn to despise my entire life. I'd replayed the kiss a hundred times, dissecting every moment. He'd initiated it. How long had he harbored such feelings? Probably soon after he first arrived, I guessed, a sudden and surprising thought. But then, I'd kissed him back. I hadn't pushed him away. I should have.

"Darian," Brock's voice cut through my swirling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "How long have you been here?"

Darian tore his eyes from the swords, and they landed directly on me. I tried to avert my gaze, to focus on anything else, but it was impossible. Our eyes met, and in that charged silence, I wondered if he was thinking the same thing...that the kiss had been a mistake. I should tell him, right here, right now, that I hadn't meant it, that I didn't feel that way. But not now. Now, I needed to focus. I needed to train and learn as much as they could teach me.

"Only a couple minutes ago," Darian replied, his eyes still locked on mine.

"Good," Brock said, oblivious to the unspoken conversation unfolding between us.

Darian continued to stare. And I continued to stare back.

Brock cleared his throat, a loud, deliberate sound that snapped the fragile connection. He'd clearly noticed the almost palpable tension. If he didn't know what had transpired between us, he was definitely wondering.

When I looked over to him, he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and was tapping his foot as if he had been standing there waiting for us for a while.

"Right then," Darian said, finally breaking our gaze to address me directly. "Aleah, we thought it would be a good idea to teach you the very basics of hand-to-hand combat."

"Why?" I asked, turning to Brock for an explanation.

Darian answered instead. "Just in case things tonight don't go as planned, we thought it would be best."

I considered their years of experience. Brock had trained his entire life. Darian too, most likely. What could one day of training possibly accomplish? Even if I did somehow manage to pick up a few moves from today's training, it wasn't likely I would remember to use them if I got into a fight. Hand-to-hand combat was not something you can just pick up and use, it is forged through experience and consistent practice, something I was severely lacking.

"And how much do you think I'm going to learn in one day?" I challenged, my voice laced with skepticism.

Darian sighed, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "As much as we can teach you."

I nodded, waiting for their instructions. They both looked doubtful, and I couldn't blame them. I'd be skeptical too.

We started with punches. Of course, I knew the absolute basics—keep your thumb outside your fingers, or risk a broken one on impact.

"You're swinging your arms too much," Darian instructed, circling me as I punched the padded target. "Just strike straight forward. It has to be fast so they won't even see it coming."