air. And sure enough, by the time I straightened, Sev was treading through the melting snow toward us, his leather boots quiet on the forest floor despite his confident stride. He had left the hideout last night to seek out the commander who had resigned. I’d slept with a lump of worry in my throat. What if Ambrosine or the Uprising captured him?
I expected to feel relief at his return, but I didn’t expect it in the form of heat flaring through my chest.
“Did you find Commander Larsio?” I asked, before Sev could question if everything was all right.
“Right where I expected him,” he replied with a smirk. “In the gambling den in Lorganti. We’re meeting him at an abandoned edifice in two days. He seemed relieved to have something to do.”
“Are you sure it’s safe to involve him?” I asked. We had discussed this already, but I hadn’t warmed to the idea. I trusted the Realm Alliance and the people at this hideout—no one else.
“The commander knows everything about the royal army,” Sev reminded me. “He knows any strategy it could use, every weakness it has. He will know what to expect from your sister’s forces. And he knows how to ready an army. We need him.”
“My friends will come—”
“What if they don’t?”
His sharpness lacerated what little sense of calm I felt.
“He was my father’s commander for twenty years,” Navara added gently, lowering her branch. “I trust him. Even when the elicromancers do arrive, it won’t hurt to have him on our side.”
Sensing I was outnumbered again, I fell quiet.
“So you know how to fight without spells and magic?” Sev asked me, skeptical. He folded his arms and leaned against a tree. A ray of sunlight shot through the leaves and painted the tips of his tousled raven hair gold. “Or are you two just playing with sticks?”
I let out a harsh laugh before I realized he was serious. I could have explained to him that it was tradition in Nissera for boys in royal families to learn the arts of warfare, a tradition that began back when kings were mortals and the few living elicromancers were just hermits in the mountains. I could have explained how I’d defied my mother to learn, or that wielding a sword in addition to my elicrin magic made me doubly deadly as a foe. Instead, I glared at him. “If you think I’m playing, why don’t you join the game?”
“Pff,” he said, and gestured dismissively.
“Come, now. You think I’m helpless without magic? Let me show you just how helpless.” I jerked my head at Navara. “Let him borrow your sword.”
“Stick,” Sev said.
“Sword,” Navara corrected, raising an eyebrow at him. She held out the branch.
“Very well,” he sighed, unfolding his arms to accept it.
I snatched up my tunic, used it to dab at the sweat on my neck, and tossed it over a tree limb before brandishing my weapon. Sev adopted a fighting stance, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.
We each shifted our weight before I lunged. He reacted quickly and blocked a high strike that would have come down on his head. I ducked his answering thrust and swiped sideways at his knees. His branch collided with mine with a loud crack that made birds scatter from their perches overhead. We both reeled back, but he was first to recover. His next swipe was pitiful, perfunctory, and I dodged it easily.
“Don’t hold back,” I growled.
“I’m not—”
“Don’t hold back!”
My command barked through the quiet. Freezing air swirled around us, streaming my hair and toying with the sleeves and hem of Sev’s loose brown tunic.
The bitter cold made me realize that I was desperate to prove to myself that I didn’t need magic—that I could be strong without it.
Sev stared me down for a moment before he set his jaw and reengaged. This time, he attacked first, and he was swift. His blows were hard, aggressive, but graceful. Sweat dripped down my temples as I ducked and jumped and twirled out of the way, breathless. He put me on the defense; it was all I could do to evade his strikes. When I managed to outmaneuver him, my blows were weak. The need to release my rage was my only fuel as we struggled on. I did strike him once in the ribs and he answered by blasting my thigh with bruising force. When I grunted in pain, he apologized, and the annoyance at his pacification helped me recover my