Chapter 52

Elouera

The underground training room smelled of damp stone, sweat, and cold metal.

Above us, the High Council guards were still banging on the empty wooden doors of my bedroom. They were following the false trail Stirling had left behind to distract them. But down here, hidden behind a secret stone door built into the bottom of my wardrobe, there was nothing but a small training space, packed dirt, and the sound of Jace and me breathing heavily.

A steel training sword cut through the damp air, missing my chin by less than an inch.

“Too slow, Elouera,” Jace said in his deep, rough voice. “An Alpha won’t give you time to fix your grip. Use your hips to put power into your attacks, not just your shoulders.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

My lungs burned as I struggled to breathe. Every breath came out short and uneven, and my mouth tasted of blood and sweat. My muscles were still weak from the effects of the Catalyst-7 I had forced into my body hours earlier.

But I wasn’t giving up.

I turned on my heel, kicking up the wet dirt beneath my boots, and tightened my grip on the worn leather handle of my short sword.

Jace didn’t go easy on me. He didn’t hold back his attacks or lower his guard just because I was weak and sickly, like the rest of the palace believed Prince Elian to be.

He fought with the same deadly skill he had used to train sixteen-year-old Vanguard cadets into ruthless fighters.

He didn’t treat me like something fragile that could break at any moment. He treated me like a piece of steel that needed to be made stronger through fire and pressure.

“Again!” Jace ordered, stepping toward me.

His heavy sword came crashing down toward my head. I quickly raised my short sword at an angle and blocked his attack near the handle.

The clash of metal rang through the room. The force of his strike sent pain shooting through my wrists and up into my shoulders. My knees nearly gave way under his strength, and the dirt shifted beneath my boots.

But instead of backing away, I dug my heels into the ground and turned my hips, pushing his sword away from mine. Then I swung my elbow toward his ribs.

Jace caught my arm with his bare hand.

The moment his rough fingers closed around my wrist, the golden mark on my throat suddenly burned with intense heat.

Our mate bond came alive between us, sending a powerful, electric feeling through my body. The connection was filled with raw desire and a possessive force that made me forget how to breathe for a moment.

Jace went completely still.

His hazel eyes grew darker as his pupils widened until they almost covered the color in his eyes. His chest rose and fell heavily against mine, and I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. He smelled of cedar and damp earth.

He could feel the fever still running through my blood.

He could also feel something else the cold, dangerous anger that was slowly replacing the weakness and submission the poison had once forced upon me.

“You’re holding back,” I panted, looking up into his dark eyes. My face was only inches from his jaw. “You’re letting our bond stop you from fighting me properly, Jace. Hit me like you mean it.”

“If I hit you with all my strength right now, Elouera,” Jace whispered, his voice rough and strained as he fought to control himself, “I’ll break your ribs.”

“Then break them,” I replied, gripping my sword tighter. “Holden won’t hold back. Callan won’t hold back either. If you keep treating me like I’m made of glass, you’ll watch them execute me.”

A muscle twitched angrily in Jace’s cheek.

He let out a deep, angry growl that seemed to shake the room. Then he released my wrist, stepped back three paces, and raised his sword into a defensive position.

“You want to fight like an Alpha?” he asked, his voice rough. His eyes flashed with a wild, dangerous look that sent heat rushing through my body. “Then stop depending on speed alone. Use your weight and strength in ways they won’t expect.”

He charged at me.

This time, he didn’t hold back.

His sword flashed through the dim torchlight like lightning. I met every strike with my own blade, and the sound of clashing steel filled the room.

We moved around each other like two wolves fighting in a storm. We blocked attacks, pushed against each other’s blades, and stepped through the dirt, neither of us willing to give up.

The heat between us grew stronger with every movement, and the cold underground room began to feel unbearably hot.

I blocked a low strike, spun quickly inside his reach, and slammed my shoulder into his chest armor.

Jace stumbled backward half a step. A dangerous smile appeared on his lips.

But before I could prepare for his next attack, the heavy stone wall at the back of the training room suddenly groaned and swung open.

A young Vanguard messenger stumbled inside and fell into the dirt. His face was deathly pale, and blood ran from a deep cut across his forehead.

“Commander!” he gasped, clutching his side. “The lower barracks… Holden’s men have just broken the seals on the wine barrels. The smoke is already rising through the ventilation shafts!”