[redith].
"Our private training ground," Draven replied. "The one I told you about a few days ago. It’s ready."
"Really?" The joy in my heart knew no bounds. I had already forgotten that he made ntion of the project to just before we left to visit my grandmother.
Though I had been stunned by his intentionality and thoughtfulness toward , I was low-key anticipating the private space. And now, it was ready.
Draven nodded once. "Do you want to see it?"
Imdiately, I slapped his arm lightly with joy in my heart. "Do you even need to ask?"
"Co." He took my hand.
We walked farther away from the estate, deeper into land that felt untouched, guarded by distance and intention.
The trees grew thicker, the paths narrower. Even the air sensed cleaner and quieter, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
"This far?" I asked softly.
Draven nodded. "Far enough that no one hears or sees you fall or rise."
That sent a small shiver down my spine. Draven really knew how to word a sentence to make a sound ominous.
When the trees finally parted, I stopped walking altogether.
The training ground stretched before us. At the centre lay a wide, open expanse of reinforced earth and stone, flattened and smoothed for combat and movent.
Training markers were etched into the ground in carefully patterned functional lines. Old, weathered posts stood at asured distances, scarred from repeated strikes.
To one side, under a timber canopy, weapons were arranged with almost ceremonial care—swords of varying weights, bows strung and unstrung, and quivers stacked neatly beside them.
Behind it all stood a low structure built of stone and wood, blending into the land rather than dominating it. A living space. I could already tell.
"There is a changing room," Draven said, following my gaze. "Shower. Sitting area. Storage. You won’t need to run back to the estate every ti."
I nodded. "This was well planned out."
"Who is your husband again?" Draven probed, a smirk appearing at the corner of his lips. And instantly, I knew he was just showing off.
I shook my head, refusing to utter a word to that question.
"There is a pool also," he suddenly inford.
"A pool?" I asked quietly. Just then, I sensed it... actually pictured it.
His eyes flicked to , sharp, but gentle. "Yes. Over there."
The pool sat just beyond the training field—clear, still, and deceptively calm.
Of course, there was a pool. I exhaled slowly, my emotions tangling—pride, awe, gratitude, and sothing heavier.
"You built all this," I said, thinking of the stressful work that went in here within a few days. "For us."
"For you," he corrected. Then, after a beat, "For whatever you choose to beco."
I turned to face him, then I stepped forward, my fingers brushing the carved edge of a training marker, feeling the intent pressed into the stone.
A few minutes later, Draven tilted his head slightly, his eyes sweeping over the open ground, and said, "Let’s see how much you rember."
I snorted softly. "You make it sound like I’ve forgotten how to breathe."
"You’ve been comfortable," he corrected. "That’s different."
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar tightness there—the kind that ca from weeks of leisure, lots of walking, and emotional weight, instead of blades and movent.
The ground beneath my boots felt solid and forgiving. I stepped onto the training field anyway. At first, it showed.
My stance was right, but not sharp. My balance held, but it wasn’t instinctive yet. When Draven moved deliberately slow, I reacted a heartbeat late, pivoting instead of flowing.
He noticed, since he was paying attention.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he circled , hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed enough to be infuriating.
"What’s wrong?" he asked. "You look like you are thinking."
"Well, I’m about to duel you," I shot back. And that earned a low chuckle.
Draven feinted left, just enough to test . I blocked him, but my arm jarred slightly on impact. My moves were a bit rusty.
My irritation flared imdiately. "Oh, don’t look so pleased," I muttered, shaking out my wrist.
"I’m not," he said. "I’m patient."
That was worse.
I moved again, faster this ti. My feet adjusted without conscious thought, weight shifting the way it always had—like my body rembered before my mind caught up.
Draven’s next feint t a smoother block. His brow lifted just a fraction.
’There you are!’
I felt it then. The familiar heat slides back into my limbs. The awareness sharpening. The way my breath synced with movent instead of fighting it.
I ducked under Draven’s arm when he reached for my shoulder, spun, and tapped his ribs with two fingers like a reminder.
He laughed outright this ti. "Alright. You’re waking up."
"So are you," I said, grinning. My confidence had returned.
We moved faster, but a lot more playfully after that. A shove here. A spin there. He caught my wrist once, and I twisted free, using his own montum to force him back a step.
The look he gave then—half surprise, and half appreciation, sent a warm thrill through .
My muscles burned pleasantly now, stretching and rembering. Reflex layered over reflex. When he swept my leg, I jumped instead of stumbling. When he tried to pin my arms, I ducked low and escaped with a laugh.
"Careful," he warned lightly. "You’re getting overly confident."
"I fought in a war, rember?" I reminded him. "So, you don’t scare now."
"Oh, I know," he said, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer. "That’s what scares ."
I lunged, more out of impulse than strategy, and he caught . So much for having a big mouth.
But instead of throwing aside, he pulled in, my montum crashing us chest to chest. Then, his hands locked around my waist, steadying us both. For a breathless second, neither of us moved.
I was suddenly very aware of his warmth, his grip. And the way my heart was pounding.
"You’re not rusty anymore," he said quietly.
I tilted my head up, eting his gaze. "Told you my body rembers."
His thumb brushed my side, absent, grounding. "So does mine."
The mont stretched—charged, but controlled. And for a mont, I considered what he had just said with a different part of my brain.
But unfortunately, he released and stepped back with a visible effort before I could act naughtily.
"Enough for now," he said. "Before this turns into sothing else."
I laughed breathlessly. "Scared I will beat you?"
"Whatever fuels your audacity." He smiled slowly.
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