Chapter 156 The Sparring Grounds

Chapter 156 The Sparring Grounds
Cressida's pov

The training hall was vast and the ceilings were high and the walls were lined with weapons and the floor was marked with sparring circles.

I had never been in this part of the academy before and the energy was different and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and steel and something electric. The torches burned bright and the shadows danced and the wolves were gathered in clusters. Their voices were low and their eyes were sharp and their anticipation was palpable. The frost was still there and the cold was still there and the fear was still there. But the fire was there too. The fire that burned in my chest and the fire that fueled my fight.

Raven was beside me and her dark curls were wild and her eyes were bright and her voice was low.

"This is intense," she said.

"This is intense," I said.

"This is terrifying," Benita said.

"This is necessary," Tasha said.

"Same thing," we all said together.

I looked at the sparring circles and the wolves who were already fighting and the blades that clashed and the grunts that echoed. The wolves moved with grace and power and their strikes were precise and their defenses were solid. The crowd cheered and the energy was electric and the world was alive.

Lucian appeared beside me and his face was tired and his eyes were dark and his hands were steady. He was wearing his training gear and his presence was commanding and his voice was low.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"I am ready."

"Are you sure?"

"I have to be."

He reached for my hand and his fingers were warm and his grip was firm.

"Stay focused," he said. "Stay aware. Stay alive."

I nodded and stepped into the circle and the world narrowed.

My opponent was a wolf named Garrick and he was tall and broad and his eyes were cold and his presence was heavy. He had been watching me since I arrived and his smile was sharp and his voice was low. His blade was drawn and the steel gleamed in the torchlight and the crowd fell silent.

"Cressida Ashcroft," he said.

"Garrick."

"I have been looking forward to this."

"Have you?"

"I have."

He drew his blade and the steel gleamed in the torchlight and the crowd fell silent.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

He lunged and I moved and the steel clashed and the sparks flew. He was fast and he was strong and he was precise. His strikes were calculated and his defenses were solid and his movements were fluid. But I was faster. I dodged and I weaved and I countered. The frost was on my skin and the cold was in my gaze and the fire was in my heart. The world narrowed to the clash of steel and the rhythm of the fight and the burn in my muscles.

"Faster," he said.

"Faster."

"Harder."

"Harder."

We fought and the blades sang and the crowd cheered and the energy was electric. He drove me back and I countered and he advanced and I dodged. The dance was brutal and beautiful and raw. The frost spread beneath my feet and the cold deepened and the fear grew. But the fire burned brighter and the strength grew stronger.

Then I saw an opening.

He lunged and his blade cut through the air where my chest had been. I sidestepped and my blade found his side and he staggered and the crowd gasped. I drove him back and his defenses crumbled and his breath was ragged.

"Yield," I said.

He stared at me and his eyes were dark and his voice was low.

"Never."

He lunged again and I moved and the steel clashed and the sparks flew. He was faster now and stronger now and more desperate. His strikes were wild and his defenses were open and his breath was ragged. But I was still faster.

I countered and my blade found his throat and the crowd fell silent.

"Yield," I said again.

He stared at me and his eyes were wide and his voice was small.

"I yield."

I lowered my blade and the crowd erupted and the cheers were loud and the energy was electric. The wolves were shouting and the torches were blazing and the world was alive.

"Good fight," I said.

"Good fight," he said.

"Same thing," we said together.

The sparring continued and the hours passed and the sun set and the torches were lit.

I fought and I bled and I won. The wolves fell and the crowd cheered and the energy grew. The frost was still there and the cold was still there and the fear was still there. But the strength was there too. The strength that came from the fight and the rhythm and the burn.

Lucian watched from the edge of the circle and his eyes were dark and his presence was steady. He did not cheer and he did not smile and he did not look away. He just watched and waited and his presence was a comfort.

I walked to him and my chest was heaving and my hands were shaking and my voice was steady.

"Did you see?" I asked.

"I saw."

"Was I good?"

"You were something."

"Same thing."

He almost smiled and the expression was tired but real.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For watching. For being here. For not running away."

He reached for my hand and his fingers were warm and his grip was firm.

"I will never run away."

The night came and the fire crackled and the candles flickered and the room was warm.

I sat on the bed and Ember curled in my lap and her purr was soft and steady. Lucian sat beside me and his hand was in mine and his fingers were warm.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For today. For the sparring. For the trust."

He squeezed my hand and his voice was steady.

"I will always trust you."

I leaned my head on his shoulder and his arm came around me and the world was quiet.

But the quiet did not last.

A knock came at the door and it was sharp and urgent and the sound cut through the silence like a blade.

I stood and crossed the room and opened the door and Raven was standing there with her dark curls wild and her face pale and her eyes wide.

"Cressida," she said.

"Raven."

"You need to come with me."

"Where?"

"The kitchen. Something has happened."

I looked back at Lucian and his eyes were dark and his voice was steady.

"What happened?"

Raven swallowed and her voice was small.

"There is a message. Carved into the table. In the ice."

My blood went cold and my hands were shaking.

"A message?"

"A warning."

I walked out of the room and Lucian followed and the corridors were dark and the torches were flickering and the fear was rising.

The kitchen was cold and the ovens were dark and the table was covered in frost. And carved into the surface, deep and clear and unmistakable, were words that made my blood freeze.

The winter is coming. And so are we.

I stared at the words and my hands were shaking and my voice was small.

"They are here."

Raven nodded and her voice was low.

"They are already inside."