Chapter 15
Before the morning dew had even dried, Seraphine opened the door to Alistair’s room.
“Uncle, my sword-”
Her words cut off abruptly.
Behind the door, the sound of water splashing could be heard. Alistair was taking a bath, and through the mist, his broad shoulders and narrow waist were vaguely visible.
“Have you had enough? Do you enjoy watching people bathe?”
Alistair suddenly turned, water dripping from his muscular frame.
Seraphine’s gaze, uncontrollably, dropped down, and when her eyes reached a certain place, her face flushed instantly.
“I came for my sword!” She grabbed the sword on the table and ran, but heard a light laugh from behind her.
In the training field, several young disciples were sparring.
When they saw Seraphine, they teased her, eager for a match.
Seraphine, distracted and preoccupied with the scene behind the door, distractedly accepted the challenge. In her distracted state, she missed a step and Jalmost tripped on the stairs.
“Watch out.”
A familiar scent of incense surrounded by inhuy
”
and Alistair caught her with one hand, his palm pressing against her chest.
Through the thin fabric of her clothes, they could both hear the rapid thudding of their hearts.
“Master’s blushing!” One of the disciples teased.
Alistair shot a glare, silencing the others immediately.
Seraphine, however, took the opportunity
to
place her fingers against his chest, feeling his heart beat faster than ever.
“Uncle,” she whispered into his ear, “Your heart’s beating so fast.”
Alistair froze for a moment, but before he could react, he quickly lifted her by the waist, tossing her onto the wooden Anemone training post. “Five hundred extra jumps.”
Seraphine landed lightly on the post, catching a glimpse of him drinking from the tea cup she had just used.
The afternoon passed slowly. When a maid brought iced sour plum soup, Seraphine took a sip and immediately frowned.
“It’s too sweet.”
“The Court Master insisted on extra honey,” the maid said, smiling. “He said you hate bitterness.”
Seraphine froze.
She had never told Alistair she disliked bitterness, unless…
Memories flooded back of the night when she had a high fever, complaining that the medicine was bitter, and then feeling a soft kiss on her lips.
At the time, she had thought it was just a hallucination.
She never expected it to be real.
Seraphine held the bowl of sour plum soup, her fingers lightly tracing the rim.
The maid’s words felt like ink dropped into the calm surface of her heart, rippling outward.
“Master also said that if you finish it, he’ll teach you a new sword technique tonight.”
She drained the bowl in one go, though the sweetness couldn’t cover the bitterness rising in her heart.
At dusk, commotion erupted at the gate.
A horse stopped at the stone steps, with a young woman in a yellow dress on it.
“Alistair!”
Chapter 15
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The saccharine voice made Seraphine’s sword screech against the stone.
Alistair emerged from the council hall, his usual cold demeanor softening slightly.
“Rosalie?”
“Father sent me with the Occitan Marches map.” The girl clung to his arm. “Three years apart, and you’ve only grown more handsome!”
Seraphine’s blade thudded into a tree trunk.
She strode over, her black robes stained with fresh blood–her old wound had reopened from excessive training.
“And this is…?” The girl in yellow shrank behind Alistair.
“The Shadow Court’s heir,” Alistair said, extracting his arm. “Seraphine.”
“Oh, so you’re the one who-”
The girl cut herself off, then produced a sachet from her sleeve. “Father said you suffer from insomnia, so I specially prepared-”
“Master.”
Seraphine hooked a finger in Alistair’s belt. “You promised to train me tonight.”
She deliberately lingered on the word “train,” smirking as the sachet tumbled to the ground.
Chapter 15
