The North's Shadow

Swords and Festivals

I felt a surge of determination as I held Duke Valouron's gaze, my bold request hanging in the air between us. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, weighing my words, maybe questioning if I was serious.

"Sword fighting?" he echoed, his tone just a touch incredulous.

He thinks I'm just being impulsive, I realized, squaring my shoulders to show I meant it. But this isn't just some whim.

"Yes," I replied firmly, meeting his eyes. "Sword fighting."

A glimmer of amusement sparked in his expression as he studied me. "If that's truly what you want," he said at last, "then perhaps I can arrange something."

Relief flooded through me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Thank you... for taking me seriously."

He nodded, that subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But don't expect any leniency. You'll be trained by someone capable of keeping even Sir Alaric in line."

"Alaric?" I asked, half-hoping for the familiar teasing that came with him.

"No," he replied, an almost wry glint in his eye. "Captain Brynja. And believe me—she'll make you regret asking for leniency."

I followed his gesture toward the training grounds, where Brynja was currently in the middle of a sparring match, her movements precise and relentless. My eyes widened as I watched her take down her opponent without breaking a sweat.

"Hold on. The Captain of the Guard? Isn't she a little... overqualified?"

He smirked. "She's the best suited to teach you—not just with the sword, but with discipline and restraint."

Oh, great. So much for easing into this.

Before I could reply, he shifted slightly, his tone more casual. "But you won't need to worry about that today. Tonight is the Winter Festival, and preparations are still underway. I'd prefer you enjoy it, rather than exhaust yourself before the celebration."

I blinked, a little surprised. "Enjoy the festival?" A smile tugged at my lips. "Are you saying I should take a break?"

"Consider it... a change of focus," he replied coolly. "The sword will still be here tomorrow, Miss Mackey. For tonight, I suggest you acquaint yourself with simpler pursuits."

Simpler pursuits? I suppressed a smirk. "Fine, but I'll hold you to it."

His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than usual. "Tell me," he said quietly, "why the sudden interest in learning to fight?"

The smirk slipped from my face. I hadn't expected him to press, and for a moment, I felt the words catch in my throat.

"It's... not sudden," I replied, carefully choosing my words. "I just... don't like feeling defenseless."

His gaze narrowed slightly. "You don't feel safe here?"

"Safe?" I repeated, trying to laugh it off, though it sounded hollow to my own ears. I don't even know what I feel.

"This place... it's beautiful and strange, and everyone here seems to have a purpose." I met his eyes, and a small, resigned smile crept onto my face. "But me? I'm just... stumbling around in a world that isn't mine. You said it yourself the first night. I'd be a fool to think people wouldn't see me as a threat—for just being here."

He shifted slightly, something thoughtful in his expression. "I won't pretend to understand the circumstances of your arrival—it's unusual, to say the least," he began. "But you're clearly determined to make your way here. Whatever brought you here, as long as you're within my castle walls, you're under my protection—just like any of my people."