Chapter 52. Tempting Commander's Weakness
The training hall smelled of sweat and steel, the clings and clangs of swords today were not heard through the hall, its stone walls echoing, instead, with the sharp clack of wooden practice blades. As Commander Sylen Velwraithe moved like a predator in the circle, his stance low, balanced with a wide gate and keeping his center of gravity low and measured, his eyes never leaving Seraphina as she tried to outmaneuver him.
You could see on her pale face that Seraphina was tired; however, she was ever... perhaps even more so, as stubborn as her mother, Queen Nox. Meaning that Seraphina would never quit on her own. Hours of drills and sparring had worn her arms and dulled her precision. Even as she held her blunt wooden blade firmly, slightly too tight, Sylen struck the practice sword from her grip with a casual flick.
"Again," he barked. The commander was a fantastic combat instructor, due to how relentless he was in ensuring his students had a stance that matched his own or got near to it. After all, he was one of the best they had.
Swallowing, Seraphina caught her breath and tried to deepen her breathing consciously, wings twitching in frustration. Commander Velwraithe missed none of this; her exhaustion was poorly concealed. She bent to pick up the blade in a better stance when she caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye.
Standing in the entry archway was Sephora.
Her raven-dark hair fell in a perfect cascade to her hips, her pale eyes catching the grey-silver flickering torchlight of the training hall. She leaned against the stone, as though she were bored... like she had simply wandered in — though something in her stillness told Commander Sylen it was deliberate.
"Commander," she purred. It was a tone that Seraphina wasn't familiar with in her younger twin sister, but she didn't quite know what her twin was angling at with her, her voice soft but edged with amusement. "Do you mean to break my sister before she's ever seen a battlefield?" Was there some internal joke they shared that she didn't know about? Was the joke about her?
Her face gathering a dusting of pink, Seraphina's flush deepened to a rouge, stung by the comment, but Sylen only gave a tight nod. "Discipline makes warriors. As she is still my student. She will thank me for it when her life depends on control and precision."
"Oh, precision," Sephora mused, stepping into the hall. She moved slowly, deliberately, every footfall a dancer's choice. "Is that all it takes to win a fight? To win… anything?" The younger sister had been too much of a wild flame and too uncontrolled in her fighting style, so Sylen had eventually refused to teach her at all, altogether. The Raven Queen never found her an appropriate alternative combat tutor the believing it wasn't needed, not because of her daughter's battle prowess, but because she was not the one who would be the future Queen.
Those icy white-blue eyes met Sylen's, unblinking. The torchlight seemed to make the blue fade to a light grey, giving the appearance that her irises had melted into the whites of her eyes with the silvery light of the room.
Something in his chest tightened, though he forced his face into a mask of neutrality. This was Sephora — reckless, spoiled, always testing boundaries. She had turned 18 only a few months ago, and yet the way she watched him, he knew in his gut that the look she gave him... the way that it lingered… It was no longer a child's gaze.
Muttering something inaudible under her breath, Seraphina went back to readying her stance, wanting to take advantage of Sylen's temporary distraction - a tactic he usually used against her. Before she could, Sephora had entered the space and was walking in a slow, calculated circle around the practice ring, her fingertips grazing the hilt of an abandoned blade, blunted and used for training black steel blade, as though she might join in herself.
"You're training my sister well," she remarked in earnest, "Her control is absolute, and it has always been far superior to my own. However, I wonder, Commander…"
She stopped directly opposite him, on the other end of the ring from Seraphina, who could not be able to see her face. tilting her head, raven hair spilling forward.
"…can you train her out of hesitation and overthinking? Can you train her to loosen a little bit of that control, or is that something only life can beat from us?"
The words landed heavier than they should have, and Sylen's eyes flickered — not at Seraphina, but at Sephora.
Pushing off with some power, after a short rest and breather thanks to her sister's distraction, Seraphina lunged again, breaking the spell. Without looking at the onslaught, Sylen countered easily, twisting her wrist and sending her stumbling.
When he looked up again, Sephora was smiling ever so wistfully and faintly, as though she had seen through him to the exact moment he faltered.
"Enough for today," Sylen said, his voice rougher than before.
"No, not yet," Seraphina scowled, as a bead of sweat dripped from the tip of her nose to the hard floorboards of the training room. "I wasn't finished."
"You were," With sudden interjection, Sephora stepped lightly into the circle for the first time. As though it belonged to her and there hadn't been a sparring match ongoing just moments ago. She looked up at Sylen through long dark lashes, her long dark hair starkly contrasting her pale eyes and fair skin... that against her pale blue eyes that flickered silver in the light... those lips, blood red naturally and full in peripheral view... "Weren't you, Commander?"
For a heartbeat too long, he held her gaze. Then, sharply, he turned away.
"Session dismissed," he said, more harshly than he intended.
"Ugh!" In a frustrated grunt, "Come on..."
Shaking his head at his student, the commander simply answered, finally breaking eye contact with Sephora, "Go and wash up, we can continue in a day or so."
Sephora's smile deepened, knowing.