Page 42 of Tears for a Broken Sky
“Sire, please—”
“It’s fine, Max,” Caelen said calmly, handing him the coat.
Elira turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing.
“You want to fight me?” she asked, cautious.
Caelen gave a small smile. “Why not?”
She tossed her broken-bladed sword aside and picked up another—longer, heavier.
Then she stepped into position. I held my breath.
They circled each other slowly, eyes locked.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” Caelen said under his breath.
“That’s the difference between us,” Elira replied. “I’m not here to prove anything.”
He moved first—fluid, elegant. But not soft.
He was fast.
Their swords met with a crack.
Caelen twisted, swept, retreated. Elira pressed forward—relentless. She didn’t fight like a trained noble. She fought like someone who had bled to survive.
She drove him back with a flurry of blows. He parried two, dodged the third, stumbled on the fourth.
But he recovered. Gods, he wasgood.
A soldier muttered, “He might actually win.”
He wouldn’t.
Phoenix stepped up beside me. Slade followed the fight from the sidelines, checking for foul play. There was a light in Elle’s eye I hadn’t seen in a while. A spark.
She always did love a good fight.
But there was something else in her eyes, too—a wildfire that burned uncontrollably.
“Is this a good idea?” Phoenix muttered beside me.
“Look at her,” I said. “She needs this.”
“And if she gets herself hurt?”
“I don’t think she’s too worried about that right now.”
She was all motion and shadow—fast, precise, lethal. Watching her fight was like watching the night come alive.
And Caelen—he wasn’t bad. He kept up, strike for strike, elegant and controlled. A perfect sparring partner. Until—
His blade swung up—Snap.
Something small arced through the air. A glint of silver caught the light. Her necklace.
The carved wooden wolf.
