Combat training in the Raven Guild did not begin with swords.
It began with pain.
At sunrise, every trainee was dragged into the courtyard, forced to stand barefoot on cold stone while the instructors walked around like wolves inspecting prey.
The air was crisp.
The lanterns from last night still glowed faintly, hanging above the training yard like tired stars refusing to sleep.
Darius Crowe stood on the upper platform, arms folded, watching us with a calm expression.
He looked like a man who did not waste words.
Beside him stood Varric.
His eyes were sharp, his posture relaxed, but his presence felt like a blade resting against my throat.
Lyra stood a few steps away from me, arms crossed, her expression bitter.
She still hated me.
Good.
Hatred made people careless.
A tall instructor stepped forward.
His name was Bram.
He was huge, with a voice that could crack stone.
"Listen," he barked. "You are not here to become heroes. You are here to become survivors."
Some trainees nodded.
Others looked nervous.
Bram pointed toward the weapons rack.
"Today you learn control," he said. "No blood aura. No flashy magic. Only skill."
My heart eased slightly.
That was good.
If magic was forbidden, then my secret remained hidden.
Bram continued.
"If I catch anyone using blood techniques, I will break your fingers myself."
The crowd swallowed hard.
Kael stood beside me, whispering.
"Why does every instructor in this place sound like they enjoy violence"
I did not respond.
Bram clapped his hands.
"Pairs," he ordered. "Two rounds. First round is balance training. Second round is blade work."
Immediately the trainees began to move.
But before I could choose anyone, Lyra stepped forward.
"I will take her," she said coldly.
Her eyes were fixed on me like a challenge.
Bram nodded.
"Fine," he said. "Lyra versus Mira."
The crowd murmured.
Kael leaned close.
"She is obsessed with you," he whispered.
I glanced at him.
"Stay quiet," I muttered.
Kael raised his hands.
"Understood," he said quickly.
Lyra walked into the circle with confident steps.
She picked a wooden staff from the rack.
I picked one too.
The staff was heavy in my hands, but not unfamiliar.
I had trained with weapons in my first life.
Not enough.
Not well.
But I had learned.
Bram raised his hand.
"Balance round," he barked.
Two guild men rolled out a thick wooden beam, about two feet wide, raised slightly above the ground.
My eyes narrowed.
A beam fight.
Lyra smiled.
"You will fall fast," she said softly.
I met her gaze.
"We will see," I replied.
Lyra stepped onto the beam first, steady and confident.
I followed.
The moment my feet touched the wood, I felt it.
The beam was slightly wet.
Someone had poured oil on it.
Not enough to be obvious.
But enough to make footing dangerous.
My jaw tightened.
Lyra's smile widened.
She did this.
Kael noticed too.
He leaned forward from the crowd.
"That beam looks slippery," he muttered loudly.
Someone shoved him.
"Shut up," a trainee hissed.
Kael glared back.
"Mind your business," he snapped. "This is my business. She is my cousin."
Lyra twirled her staff.
"Ready," she asked.
I stayed calm.
"Begin," Bram shouted.
Lyra attacked instantly.
Fast strikes aimed at my shoulders and knees, trying to knock me off balance.
I blocked, stepping carefully.
The beam was slippery, but I controlled my breathing.
Lyra pushed harder, her staff slamming against mine.
The impact made my arms ache.
The crowd began murmuring.
"She is holding on"
"Lucky girl."
"She is going to fall."
Lyra smiled again.
"You are trembling," she whispered.
I said nothing.
Because she was right.
Not from fear.
From the strain of holding back my bloodline.
I could end this easily with blood threads.
But if I did, Varric would notice.
Darius would notice.
Everyone would notice.
And Mira Vale would die.
I tightened my grip and stepped aside, letting Lyra's staff swing past me.
Lyra stumbled slightly on the slick wood.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
I saw her weakness.
I moved.
Not with magic.
With precision.
I hooked my staff under hers and twisted sharply.
Her staff slipped from her grip.
The crowd gasped.
Lyra's eyes widened.
I struck her shoulder lightly.
Not hard enough to injure.
Hard enough to push her off balance.
Lyra slipped.
Her boots slid.
She flailed, trying to recover.
Then she fell off the beam with a loud thud.
The courtyard erupted in laughter and cheers.
Lyra lay on the ground, furious, her hair covering her face.
Someone shouted.
"She fell!"
Another voice laughed.
"Luck again!"
Lyra sat up slowly, her eyes burning with humiliation.
She looked at me like she wanted to tear my throat out.
I stepped off the beam calmly.
Bram nodded.
"Good," he barked. "Next round."
Lyra stood, dusting herself off angrily.
"Blade work," Bram announced. "Real steel this time. But no killing."
Weapons were handed out.
Short swords.
Not sharp enough to cut deep, but sharp enough to draw blood.
Lyra picked hers up with shaking hands.
Her rage was obvious.
She stepped into the ring again, eyes locked on me.
"You are nothing," she hissed. "Just a pretty thief's pet."
Kael shouted.
"She is not pretty, she is terrifying!"
I turned my head slightly.
Kael froze.
Then he coughed.
"I mean," he corrected quickly, "she is pretty too."
Some trainees laughed.
Lyra's eyes narrowed further.
Bram raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Lyra attacked like a storm.
Her sword strikes were fast and vicious, filled with emotion rather than technique.
I blocked and stepped back.
The sound of metal clashing echoed across the yard.
Lyra swung again, aiming for my face.
I ducked.
She swung again, aiming for my ribs.
I twisted aside.
The crowd watched closely.
Some murmured.
"She is only defending."
"She cannot attack."
"She is scared."
Lyra pressed harder, her blade scraping my shoulder.
A thin line of blood appeared.
Kael's eyes widened.
"Elara," he whispered.
I ignored him.
Lyra smiled.
"There," she whispered. "You bleed like everyone else."
She lunged again.
This time she aimed for my throat.
I stepped aside.
Her blade missed.
And her foot slipped slightly on the ground.
Not because of oil.
Because her anger made her careless.
I moved.
I caught her wrist, twisted her arm, and forced her sword downward.
Then I placed my blade gently against her neck.
The ring went silent.
Lyra froze.
Her breathing became ragged.
I leaned close and whispered so only she could hear.
"If you ever try to set me up again," I said softly, "I will not just embarrass you."
Lyra's eyes widened.
Fear flickered for the first time.
I stepped back and lowered my sword.
Bram nodded.
"Winner," he barked. "Mira."
The courtyard erupted again.
But this time the cheers were mixed with disbelief.
Someone shouted.
"She is still lucky!"
Another scoffed.
"Lyra fought badly. That is why she lost."
A man laughed.
"She is a pretty girl with lucky feet."
Lyra walked away without speaking.
But I could feel her hatred like smoke.
Kael rushed toward me.
"You were amazing," he whispered.
I glared at him.
"Do not praise me loudly," I muttered.
Kael nodded quickly.
"Right," he said. "Lowkey. Invisible. Just a harmless merchant girl who casually defeats trained fighters."
I walked past him.
Kael followed behind, quieter now.
But I could feel something in his silence.
Not humor.
Thought.
Pain.
As we moved toward the water barrels, Kael suddenly stopped.
I turned.
"What," I asked.
Kael's eyes were fixed on a man standing near the entrance of the guild courtyard.
The man looked ordinary.
Plain clothes.
Average build.
But his eyes were too calm.
Too sharp.
He was watching the trainees.
Watching me.
Kael's voice lowered.
"That man," he whispered. "He is not a guild member."
My bloodline pulsed faintly.
The Queen's voice whispered.
A watcher.
I narrowed my eyes.
The man turned and walked away calmly, disappearing into the crowd outside the gates.
Kael swallowed.
"Elara," he said softly, "I think someone is watching you."
My jaw tightened.
I wiped the blood from my shoulder.
"I know," I whispered.
⸻
BACK IN THE CAPITAL
In the Blood Court's underground chamber, Selene Frost stood barefoot on cold stone.
Her white dress hung loosely on her body, torn at the edges like a fallen angel.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were no longer human.
Her pupils were split like a serpent's.
And her aura was darker than any blood mage should possess.
A masked elder stepped forward.
"Your body has accepted the Serpent Bloodline," he said. "You are no longer Selene Frost."
Selene smiled slowly.
Her lips curved like poison.
"I am still Selene," she whispered. "I am just… improved."
The elder nodded.
"Good," he murmured. "Then listen carefully. Elara has fled the capital."
Selene tilted her head.
"I know," she said.
The elder's voice dropped.
"She is in Ravenspire."
Selene's smile widened.
Her tongue flicked across her lips unconsciously, like a snake tasting air.
"Ravenspire," she whispered.
Then she laughed softly.
A laugh that made the chamber colder.
"I will bring her back," she said.
The elder leaned closer.
"Alive," he ordered.
Selene's eyes glowed.
"No," she whispered. "I want her screaming."
⸻
LUCIEN
Lucien Valemont stood alone in his chamber, staring at the sealed bounty scroll.
His jaw was clenched.
His eyes were filled with conflict.
A servant entered quietly.
"My lord," the servant said nervously, "the Blood Council has released the Serpent unit."
Lucien's expression darkened.
"Selene," he whispered.
The servant nodded.
Lucien crushed the scroll in his fist.
His voice became cold.
"Prepare my horse," he ordered. "And summon my personal guard."
The servant's eyes widened.
"My lord… the Council will not approve—"
Lucien stepped forward.
His aura flared like silver fire.
"I am not asking for approval," he said.
His voice was quiet, but deadly.
"I am going to Ravenspire."
⸻
BACK IN RAVENSPIRE
Night fell again, and Ravenspire's lanterns lit up like a living sky.
From a rooftop above the Raven Guild Hall, a man watched silently.
The same man Kael had noticed.
He held a black crystal in his palm.
A communication stone.
His voice was low.
"I found her," he whispered.
The crystal glowed.
A distorted voice answered.
"Are you sure"
The man's eyes narrowed.
"She is hiding her aura," he said. "But she moves like a royal fighter."
The voice on the other side chuckled.
"Good," it said. "Keep watching. Do not approach."
The man nodded.
"Yes, Elder," he whispered.
Then he looked down at the guild hall again.
His gaze locked on the window of my room.
And his lips curved slightly.
"Run, little queen," he murmured.
"It makes the hunt sweeter."