Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter 51

After breakfast, the usual chaos of training begins. The courtyard is alive with the sounds of clashing swords, shouted commands, and the rhythmic thud of boots on the ground. Bodies move in sync, practicing maneuvers, testing limits, and sharpening their skills. I'm supposed to meet Imorgan to work on some hand-to-hand drills, but my eyes keep drifting toward the practice area where Xaden is sparring.

His movements are so fluid, so effortless, it's like he's dancing—except with a sword. Each strike is precise, deadly, and full of an energy that practically crackles in the air. I can't help but watch him. The way his muscles flex beneath the taut fabric of his shirt, the deadly grace with which he moves, the sharpness in his eyes that promises he's always in control. Every part of me knows he's one of the best, but watching him so close makes something in me twist, both admiration and... something else.

"Focus, Nora," Imorgan's voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts, sharp and impatient. She stands in front of me, her stance wide, arms crossed. "What's got you distracted?"

I blink rapidly, shaking myself out of the trance Xaden has pulled me into. I force my gaze away from him and meet Imorgan's eyes. "Right. Sorry."

Imorgan gives me a knowing look, one eyebrow raised. "He's not the only one who can be a distraction, you know."

I don't answer at first, instead brushing a lock of hair out of my face. "I know," I mutter, forcing my attention to the task at hand. We begin the drills again—punches, blocks, dodges—though my mind is still tangled with thoughts of Xaden. Of that easy, effortless power he carries with him, like it's just his to wield. It's hard not to be captivated by it... by him.

As the day winds down, the sun begins to sink below the horizon, painting the courtyard in soft hues of orange and pink. I take a moment for myself, stepping out onto the balcony that overlooks the training grounds. The warmth of the evening wraps around me, but it's not enough to ease the tightness in my chest. Something's been building between Xaden and me, something I can't ignore anymore. It's like a spark waiting to catch fire.

I hear footsteps behind me, steady and confident. I don't need to turn to know who it is. I feel him before I even see him. His presence always fills the space, like he owns it.

"You've been avoiding me," Xaden's voice is low, teasing, and for a split second, it sounds like a challenge.

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to smile. "I've been busy," I say, my voice a little too sharp. Maybe I am avoiding him—avoidance is the only way I can control the mix of heat and frustration swirling inside me whenever he's around.

His footsteps get closer, the sound of them familiar and confident. I don't turn to face him. Not yet.

"Liar," he murmurs, his voice closer now, and I swear I can feel the heat of his body radiating just behind me. "I know when you're avoiding me, Nora. It's obvious."

I hesitate, my back still to him, fingers curled around the cold metal of the balcony railing. "I'm not avoiding you," I say, though my voice lacks the conviction I'd hoped for. The words sound too defensive, even to my own ears.

He steps in beside me, standing close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his shirt. His eyes are on me, I can sense them. Always watching, always waiting for a reaction.

His gaze flickers over me, and I can almost feel the weight of it—like he's dissecting every little movement, every subtle shift in my posture. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches me like he's savoring the silence.

"You sure about that?" he asks, his voice darker now, more intimate. He's too close. I can feel the tension crackling between us. My heart rate quickens, but I refuse to turn to face him.