Raina stood in the center of the training ring, her chest heaving, fists clenched, and vision slightly blurred. Her legs ached from the endless lunges, and her arms trembled with the weight of the wooden staff still clutched in her hands. The morning sun beat down on her skin, but it wasn't the heat that made her dizzy — it was the pressure.
"Again," Vanya said flatly, arms crossed, voice void of sympathy.
Raina's fingers curled tighter around the staff. Every muscle in her body begged her to stop, but Vanya's eyes — cold, sharp, and waiting — kept her grounded.
She moved. Her feet shifted clumsily, trying to remember the pattern. Block, swing, spin—too slow. Before she could complete the move, her staff was knocked clean from her hands.
It landed with a dull thud on the dirt beside her.
Raina staggered back, humiliated. A few warriors watching nearby snorted under their breath. One of them, a tall male named Jarek, chuckled audibly.
"She's never gonna survive a real fight," he muttered. "Let alone impress the king."
Raina's face flushed, but she didn't speak. Not yet.
Vanya walked over and picked up the staff, spinning it between her hands effortlessly. "You're hesitating. Again. You don't believe in your own strength."
"I'm trying," Raina managed to whisper.
"Trying won't keep you alive," Vanya snapped. "Out there, you won't get a second chance."
The words stung more than they should have. But Vanya wasn't wrong. If this had been real, Raina would've been dead five times already.
Still, something inside her rebelled.
She took the staff back, ignoring the soreness in her palms. "Again," she said.
Vanya blinked. "What?"
"I said again." Her voice was stronger this time.
A pause. Then, Vanya gave the faintest nod. "Good. Then let's go."
The next round was brutal — faster, harder, relentless. Vanya didn't hold back. She swung with force, testing Raina's reflexes and balance. And Raina… she didn't win, but she lasted longer. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She held her ground.
By the end of the round, she was on her knees, gasping for air — but her grip on the staff never loosened.
Later that day, Raina limped through the hallways of Crescent Fortress, still drenched in sweat. Her arms felt like lead, and every step shot pain through her calves, but she didn't care.
She passed warriors who didn't bother to look her way, servants who avoided eye contact, and pack members who whispered as she walked by.
Let them stare, she thought. They don't know what I'm becoming.
As she turned a corner, she stopped — frozen.
King Theron was standing near one of the open arches, facing the forest beyond the fortress wall. Alone. No guards, no Cassian.
He hadn't noticed her yet.
Raina hesitated. She should've walked the other way. She wasn't ready to face him — not like this, with sweat in her hair and bruises on her arms.
But then… he spoke.
"You lasted five minutes longer today."
She flinched. "You were watching?"
"I always watch."
He turned toward her, and her breath caught. The sunlight hit his golden eyes just right, making them glow like fire behind a storm. His expression was unreadable, but not unkind.
Raina forced herself to stand straighter. "I won't be weak forever."
"I know."
Those two words hit harder than Vanya's staff.
"You're not here to be a warrior," Theron continued. "You're here to learn who you are — and what you could be."
"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.
He took a step closer. "Do you think it was coincidence that Kael rejected you? That your wolf never surfaced in his presence?"
Raina's chest tightened. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying your wolf has been hiding — not because she's afraid… but because she's waiting."
Her voice shook. "Waiting for what?"
Theron leaned in, his voice low. "For something greater than a mate bond."
That night, Raina stood in front of her mirror, bruised and aching, but her eyes… her eyes held something new.
Not hope. Not yet.
But fire.