Chapter 13: The Training.
1487 Words
The training yard was covered in frost at dawn.
Lyra stood in the middle of it in borrowed clothes. Black pants. A gray tunic. Kael’s jacket over it because the wind cut right through her.
She was terrified.
Not of the swords. Not of the dummies.
Of him seeing her fail.
The gates opened.
Kael walked in.
And Lyra forgot how to breathe.
He had on black training pants. Low on his hips. And nothing else.
No shirt.
Scars. Muscle. The tattoo of a wolf across his left shoulder. Snow in his dark hair.
He looked like a god of war. And he was walking straight to her.
“Morning, little ghost,” he said. Like he wasn’t half-naked. Like her brain wasn’t short-circuiting.
“Morning,” Lyra managed. Her voice came out high.
Kael’s eyes swept over her. Took in the jacket. The way she was shivering.
He frowned. “Cold?”
“A little.”
He didn’t say anything. He just shrugged out of his own jacket and held it out.
“But— that’s yours—”
“Take it.”
Lyra did. It was warm. And it smelled like him.
Kael rolled his shoulders. “We have 3 hours before council. So we’ll make it count.”
He walked to the weapon rack and grabbed two wooden swords. Tossed one to her.
Lyra caught it. Barely.
“First rule,” Kael said. “A queen doesn’t flinch.”
......
For the next hour, he was brutal.
“Feet wider.”
“Back straight.”
“Stop looking at the ground. Look at me.”
Every time she messed up, he corrected her. Hands on her hips to adjust her stance. Hand on her wrist to fix her grip.
His touch was professional. Mostly.
But every time his fingers brushed her skin, Lyra’s heart did something stupid.
“Again,” Kael said. “Lunge.”
Lyra lunged. And missed. And stumbled.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.
“Got you,” Kael murmured in her ear.
He didn’t let go right away. His chest was bare and warm against her back. His breath was hot on her neck.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said.
“I’m thinking about not dying,” Lyra said honestly.
Kael laughed. That low sound that did things to her stomach.
He set her down. But his hands stayed on her waist for one second too long.
“You won’t die,” he said. “Not on my watch. Not ever again.”
Lyra nodded. She couldn’t speak.
“Again.”
......
Hour two. They were both sweating despite the cold.
Lyra’s arms hurt. Her legs shook.
Kael hadn’t broken a sweat.
“Show me what you remember from Darius,” he said suddenly.
Lyra froze. “What?”
“How did he train you? Did he?”
Lyra looked down. “He... made me watch. He never let me touch a sword. Said I’d cut myself.”
Kael went very still.
“Show me,” he said again. Softer this time. “Show me how you stood. How you held yourself.”
Lyra hesitated. Then she straightened her back. Put on the mask she used to wear around Darius. Head down. Shoulders in. Making herself small.
Kael’s expression changed. His jaw clenched.
“Stop,” he said quietly.
Lyra looked up.
“That’s not you anymore,” Kael said. He walked to her. Stopped right in front of her. “Stand up. Like you did yesterday in the council room.”
Lyra did. Chin up. Shoulders back.
“Good,” Kael said. His voice was rough. “That’s my queen.”
He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheek.
“You’re not his anymore. You don’t have to be small for anyone. Not for me. Not for them.”
Lyra’s eyes stung. “What if I can’t? What if I’m just... weak?”
Kael took both her hands in his. Squeezed.
“You walked through a snowstorm alone. You stood up to 50 wolves. You chose me in front of everyone.” He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles. Again. “You are the least weak person I know, Lyra.”
She sniffed. “You’re bad at pep talks.”
“I’m bad at everything except war,” Kael admitted. “But I’m learning.”
He dropped her hands. “One more round. Then food.”
......
They sparred.
For real this time. Slow. Controlled.
Kael attacked. Lyra blocked.
Kael feinted. Lyra dodged.
She was terrible. But she was trying.
“Better,” Kael said when she actually managed to block him. “See? You’re not hopeless.”
“I’m hopeless,” Lyra panted. “You’re just being nice.”
“I don’t do nice.” Kael smirked. “I do honest. And honestly, you have terrible form but excellent stubbornness.”
Lyra laughed. It surprised both of them.
Kael’s smirk softened. “There’s that sound.”
“What sound?”
“The one I haven’t heard in 10 years.” He turned away. “Laughing.”
The yard went quiet. Only the wind.
Lyra watched his back. The scars. The way his shoulders carried the whole kingdom.
“Kael?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you. For this. For... me.”
He didn’t turn around. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t quit.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” He picked up a towel and threw it at her. “Because tomorrow we do this again. And the day after that. Until you can beat me.”
Lyra caught the towel. “I’ll never beat you.”
“You will.” Kael finally looked at her. Sweat on his brow. Eyes serious. “And when you do, I’m going to be the proudest, most terrified king in the North.”
Terrified. Of her beating him.
Gods.
......
They went inside. To the kitchens. Because Kael apparently didn’t do dining rooms.
He made her sit while he cooked.
The King of Frosthaven. Cooking eggs.
Lyra watched him from the table. His hair was still damp. He’d put on a shirt but the top buttons were undone.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“I want to,” Kael said. He plated the food and set it in front of her. “Eat.”
She did. It was good.
“I was thinking,” Lyra said between bites. “About what Elder Sera said. About the law.”
Kael stopped eating. “Don’t.”
“But—”
“Lyra.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “The law doesn’t matter. I matter. What I say matters. And I say you stay.”
His thumb brushed over her wrist. Right where her pulse was.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Lyra looked at him. Really looked. At the man who picked her up from the snow. Who fought his council. Who cooked for her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Kael exhaled. Like he’d been holding his breath.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
The words hung between them. Heavy. Final.
A knock.
“Your Majesty. Council in 10 minutes.”
Kael let go of her hand. Stood.
“Come,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
“Me? But I’m not—”
“You’re my queen,” Kael said simply. “You sit beside me. Starting now.”
He held out his hand.
Lyra took it.
......
The council room was full. All the elders. All the captains.
And every single one of them stood when Lyra walked in on Kael’s arm.
Kael led her to the throne. Not the one beside it.
His.
He sat. Then pulled her down to sit on the armrest next to him. Close. Touching.
Elder Moren’s face went purple. “This is highly inappropriate—”
Kael looked at him. “What’s inappropriate is you questioning me while my queen is sitting here.”
He put his arm around Lyra’s shoulders. Possessive. Protective.
“This is how it’s going to be,” Kael said to the room. “She’s here. She’s staying. And anyone who has a problem can take it up with me. Outside.”
Silence.
Lyra sat there. In the King’s jacket. On the King’s throne. With the King’s arm around her.
And for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel small.
She felt like she belonged.
Kael leaned over and whispered in her ear, so only she could hear:
“You did good today. At training. At this. I’m proud of you.”
Lyra smiled. Small. Real.
And somewhere in the back of the room, a guard wrote it down.
'The King smiled. At her.'
The rumors would spread by nightfall.
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