Chapter 12
Elara’s POV
The courtyard smelled faintly of iron, leather, and dust. Morning sunlight pooled across the training ground, glinting against blades lined neatly along the racks. I stood there, the hem of my borrowed tunic brushing against my knees, my hands clammy with nerves. The palace’s guards moved with a fluid precision that unsettled me—every strike, every parry honed by years of discipline. I, on the other hand, was a healer, a village apothecary’s daughter. I brewed teas and mixed ointments. I stitched wounds; I did not wield steel to cause them.
Yet here I was, a wooden practice sword heavy in my grip, my breath uneven as the woman before me gave me a look that could split stone.
“Feet apart,” Captain Selene instructed, her voice clipped and commanding. She was tall a
