Darius scoffed under his breath, straightening his spine like a soldier called to attention. "You are in over your head."
Serena arched her brow. "Am I really?"
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then stopped himself, folding his arms tightly across his broad chest. His gaze drifted elsewhere, like he couldn’t quite et hers. "Alexander is my commander, and one of the best Ironshade has produced in decades. I do not dislike him."
Serena’s mouth ford an ’o’ and she nodded at his words. She did not quite believe Darius’ words.
"I see, then I suppose I like Alexander too," she said lightly.
At her words, Darius’ brow furrowed so sharply it was almost comical.
"I did not say I liked him too," he grumbled. "We have sothing we call mutual respect for each other."
Serena fought the smile pulling at her lips. The stiff, almost sulky way Darius delivered the words made her want to laugh
"I see," Serena said simply.
Alexander reappeared from wherever he had vanished to. His gait was easy, his smile apologetic as he sighed dramatically.
"I am sorry, my lady. We would have to leave the armoury because the furnace is about to get hotter," Alexander said.
"Oh, you are much too kind," Serena said, putting on her embellished accent.
"It is nothing," Alexander said.
His gaze flickered off Serena and landed squarely on Darius, sizing him up with a grin that was a little too smug. Once Alexander had his back to Darius he rolled his eyes.
Darius’ attention was drawn to a man shovelling more coal into the fire’s hungry mouth. He seed to be on his third bucket. Darius raised a brow and looked at the other workers, They were working harder now, faster, sneaking anxious glances toward the commander’s retreating figure.
True to Alexander’s word, the furnace had grown hotter, but not unbearably so. It could have been a convenient excuse to usher Serena out. Darius’ eyes narrowed slightly. Why?
Darius turned to gaze at the pair, who were a couple yards off. He could hear their conversation, nothing of significance to him. But Serena laughed and smiled at Alexander. How many tis had she smiled and laughed in that man’s presence?
More than Darius could count. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, feeling a knot tighten in his chest. Maybe he ought to take a few pages from Alexander’s book, if it worked so well.
"...and then the general had to pull away from the fire. I was lucky I only escaped with this finger being scarred," Alexander said with a boyish grin, wagging his pinky finger for her to see. "The fire did get so of my hair, though. I had to shave it all off."
Serena laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It must have been a sight to see."
"Oh, it was alright-"
Darius’ voice bood from behind them, cutting out their words and laughter. "The ambassador has other places to be, commander."
Alexander glanced at him with a small frown. "My apologies, Alpha. I had forgotten ti."
Serena turned to Darius, who spun his pointer fingers around each other, in the way you do when you want to say hurry up.
"Right... Ambassador, I would like to show you the sparring grounds," Alexander said.
—
The road opened up into a lush green outclearing. White stones, each roughly the sa length and width, were carefully laid around the periter, forming a neat square that marked the boundaries of the sparring grounds.
A wooden rack leaned against one side, weapons stacked haphazardly on its arms, though several spaces were empty, evidence that many were already in use.
Serena’s gaze swept across the grounds. Wolves of various ages, from what little she could guess, were locked in bouts of combat. So moved with the quick, fierce precision of seasoned fighters; others with the jerky, too-eager movents of youth still finding their footing.
Off to the side were a few wolves who had already shifted, wrestling. All in all, they were an organised group, with squad leaders and all.
"Our humble sparring ground," Alexander announced with a theatrical bow, one hand sweeping toward the expanse before them.
Serena wondered if Alexander was truly a commander. He had all the traits of a political aide, or maybe even a delegate- none of which scread to her that he was a military person, or a whole commander at that.
"It is lovely," Serena said, the corners of her mouth lifting politely. She turned to Darius. "Did you ever train here, Alpha?"
Darius looked at her briefly before shaking his head. "No, my visits were short. My father was the one who trained ."
"Advantages of being higher up the food chain," Alexander said solemnly.
A long silence stretched between the three of them before the commander cleared his throat and fixed on a smile.
Two n in the middle had just completed their sparring. One was lean and the other was thick with muscle, and scars ran down his side. Serena wondered what kind of battle he had been in to co out with those kinds of scars.
She absent-mindedly touched her arm, feeling the deep scar beneath the fabric of her clothes. The spar ended with the leaner man on his back, knocked out.
Darius humd low in his throat, nodding approvingly. His sharp gaze surveyed the fighters, satisfaction etching itself onto his features. Once again, General Silas had proven himself a brilliant choice to lead Ironshade’s warriors.
He looked around, and Serena was nowhere to be found. He grimaced, then his countenance fell when he realised she was not by Alexander’s side either.
Across the clearing, Alexander t his gaze. The flash of concern in his brown eyes mirrored Darius’ own. No words were needed, they both moved to search for her.
—
Serena gently shifted the young boy’s hand lower on the sword’s hilt. When she had first approached him, he had been gripping it so tightly it was a wonder the tal hadn’t bent under the pressure.
"Loosen your grip," Serena instructed, voice soft but firm. "You need to be ready to adapt, not clench like you’re hanging on for dear life."
The boy nodded so vigorously his hair flopped into his eyes. He adjusted his stance, his features drawn in comical concentration.
Serena laughed quietly and reached out, tapping her index finger against his forehead.
"Relax your shoulders. You’ll get it."
"Thank you, miss," he said, his voice cracking slightly
"What is your na?" Serena asked, tilting her head with a warm smile. "And how old are you?"
"Ethan, and I am nineteen years old," he answered quickly, standing a little taller.
Serena nodded; her guess was right. She assud he was about eighteen.
The wind seed to change and everything stilled. Serena stilled, her senses prickling.
She heard the sound of a sword being drawn. Serena’s fingers closed instinctively around the sword in Ethan’s hands, ripping it from him with a smooth, practiced motion.
"Watch out, miss," he scread, pulling her from himself.
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