The week had been shit.
Not dramatically shit in the way that at least made a good story later.
Not catastrophically shit either, which might have been easier because catastrophe gave a woman something concrete to bite.
No, this had been the slow, irritating kind of shit that got under Kaelith’s skin and stayed there.
She had spent most of it avoiding Irielle.
That part, at least, had been intentional.
After the first dinner she had missed, after the first carriage ride, after the first meeting room and the first time she had gotten too close and heard Irielle say I can’t in that cold, controlled voice, Kaelith had decided distance was wisdom.
Sensible.
Necessary.
She would stay away.
She would let the six months pass with as little emotional stupidity as possible.
She would make herself difficult in careful, strategic doses.
She would absolutely not start circling the little elf princess like a curious idiot.
Instead she had gone out.
A lot.
Too much, probably.
The problem was that none of it had even been satisfying.
The parties were loud, the wine had been decent, the flirting had come easily because it always did, and still every night ended the same way, with Kaelith walking back to the castle irritated and underwhelmed.
She had kissed two women this week who would once have left her pleased and smug, and instead she had spent the whole time thinking that one laughed too loudly and the other kept touching her face in a way that was supposed to be seductive but only made her think of pale fingers, cool skin, green eyes that never softened when they should.
The sex had been bad too.
Not disastrous.
Kaelith did not sleep with women who were disasters in bed unless she was feeling charitable, and she had not been feeling charitable.
But bad enough.
Disconnected.
Forgettable.
Technically pleasant and emotionally empty, which was insulting because she had built an entire reputation on pleasure and confidence and women leaving her bed satisfied.
This week, though, she had found herself distracted at the worst possible moments, irritated at the wrong touches, and absurdly aware that none of it felt like anything worth staying awake for.
So yes.
The week had been shit.
Today had been worse in a quieter way because she had finally run out of energy.
She had stumbled back to her own room sometime just before dawn, kicked off her boots, collapsed into bed, and apparently slept like the dead through half the day.
When Kaelith finally dragged herself awake, the light coming through her curtains had already shifted golden.
Afternoon.
Great.
She lay on her back for a moment, staring at the ceiling and feeling the dull ache of sleep that lasted too long.
Her room smelled faintly of wine, clean linen, and the perfume of a woman whose name she had already forgotten.
That alone annoyed her enough to get up.
She showered quickly.
Cold water first to shock herself into functioning, then warm.
She scrubbed away the stale remnants of the last few days and pulled on black trousers and a loose dark shirt with no real thought for style, which in itself should have warned someone that she was unwell.
Kaelith always thought about style.
It was one of the few parts of her life she trusted completely.
Servants moved through the corridors with trays, guards changed posts, somewhere distant a laugh broke against the stone and vanished.
Kaelith ran one hand through her white-and-red hair and tried to decide whether she wanted food, alcohol, or a complete personality transplant.
Food first, probably.
She had just reached the western stairwell when a servant passed carrying fresh linens.
Kaelith stopped her almost without thinking.
“Where is Irielle?”
The question slipped out before she could pretend she had not meant to ask it.
The servant, to her credit, showed no surprise.
“Her Highness went to the training grounds with Lady Ruby and Lady Violet.”
Kaelith blinked.
The training grounds.
With Ruby and Violet.
Why?
Her first thought was that the twins had corrupted her, which was unfair because the twins corrupted everyone equally.
Her second thought was curiosity, sharp and immediate and deeply unwelcome.
The image arrived without permission: Irielle in one of the formal dresses she wore even when breathing looked like an act of discipline, standing awkwardly at the edge of a field while Ruby talked too loudly and Violet made fun of everyone.
Kaelith found, with irritation, that she wanted to see it.
That was stupid.
She knew it was stupid.
She went anyway.
The western training grounds stretched out below the upper terraces in broad rectangles of packed earth, marked rings, weapon racks, and raised viewing platforms.
From the upper corridor Kaelith usually took when she wanted to avoid being dragged into sparring, there was a shadowed stone arch that overlooked part of the private practice field.
She stopped there first.
And then she forgot how to breathe properly for half a second.
Because Irielle was not standing at the edge looking ornamental and offended.
She was in the ring.
In a combat uniform.
Black and fitted and made for movement, the silver stitching catching light when she turned, pale hair pulled back, a sword in her hand.
No silk.
No jewels.
No cold princess armor built out of etiquette and distance.
Just clean lines and sharp grace and a body that moved like it understood violence better than court conversation.
Damn, Irielle looked hot.
The thought came fast and vulgar and completely uninvited.
Kaelith crushed it instantly.
No.
Absolutely not.
She was here out of curiosity.
Strategic curiosity.
Possibly older-sister concern because Ruby had the attention span of a spoiled wolf cub and Violet fought like a scholar when annoyed enough.
She was not here to stare at her wife’s legs.
She folded her arms and leaned one shoulder against the stone arch.
The fight was already well underway.
Ruby had taken off her shirt because of course she had, leaving her in a dark binding wrap that showed off the lean definition of her shoulders and stomach. The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
She was taller than Irielle by several inches and moved with the easy aggression of someone who trusted both her instincts and her body.
Irielle, meanwhile, fought nothing like Kaelith had expected.
She was fast.
Not just quick.
Exact.
Coldly exact.
Her footwork was clean, blade economy ruthless.
She did not waste movement.
She slipped around Ruby’s pressure instead of meeting it head-on, used angles beautifully, and when a flicker of ice magic flashed low across the floor, Kaelith’s brows went up before she could stop them.
Oh.
So the little princess had teeth.
Real ones.
Ruby laughed when the slick almost took her footing, recovered, and came harder after that.
The ring of steel echoed off the surrounding stone.
Violet sat off to one side, lazily entertained, but Kaelith could tell by the way she had gone still that even she was impressed.
Kaelith watched without moving.
Watched Ruby drive forward.
Watched Irielle evade and counter.
Watched the tension in the fight sharpen from playful to serious in that perfect, dangerous way that made sparring worth seeing at all.
She should have left then.
She did not.
Instead she stayed and kept watching until the whole thing narrowed down to breathing, footwork, hair coming loose, the flash of muscle in Ruby’s arms, the icy precision of Irielle’s blade, and the deeply irritating fact that Kaelith was enjoying herself.
Then Ruby got too close.
It happened fast.
A slip, a twist, a shift of leverage.
Irielle hit the ground.
Ruby came down with her, pinning her cleanly, one hand at her wrist, body close over hers, red hair falling forward.
Too close.
Something in Kaelith snapped before thought could arrive to stop it.
Magic leaped from her hand in the shape of a purple-flame arrow and tore across the ring.
Ruby swore and dodged on instinct, shoving herself up and away just as the arrow hit the stone and burst into harmless sparks.
Silence cracked for one beat.
Then Ruby straightened, turned toward the archway where Kaelith stood half-hidden, and laughed.
“Oh, Kaelith, you are here.”
Irielle had already pushed herself upright.
Her gaze lifted and landed on Kaelith from across the field, unreadable and far too direct.
Kaelith, who suddenly remembered she had no reason whatsoever to be standing here firing jealous magic like a lunatic, arranged her face into bored indifference at lightning speed.
“I was just passing by,” she said.
“Well.
I got a meeting with Mom.
Bye.”
And before any of them could say another word, she turned and walked away fast enough to qualify as a retreat.