Chapter Sixteen - Glimpse of Pain
LIORA
After having a long and interesting conversation with Cassius about poetry and werewolves. He let me know about the silver blade, which kills werewolves, and there are few of them in the palace.
But my head can't let go of Vale Morgan, the poet. His sorrowful love poem kept ringing in my head.
My steps slowed as I approached the open-air training grounds, hidden within the stone walls of the palace. The crisp scent of steel and sweat lingered in the air, carried by the faint breeze that rustled through the high banners overhead.
My gaze locked onto the lone figure in the center of the courtyard.
Kieran.
He moved like a phantom, his body honed to precise, lethal efficiency. I think he was using the silver blade to train; Cassius said he always used it for training and always got injured. That's why scars are mostly on his hand, back, and one on his face. Meanwhile, I was thinking it was from his past battles.
The silver blade in his grip gleamed beneath the midday sun, a dangerous contrast against his dark tunic, already damp with sweat. Each swing, each parry, each controlled strike against the training post was executed with terrifying speed and power.
I barely breathed as I watched.
The way his muscles flexed beneath his skin, the raw power in his movements—it was something almost inhuman. And yet, there was pain in it too.
I flinched as his blade clashed against steel, sending sparks flying. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to recover, pushing himself harder and faster, as if trying to outrun something unseen.
Then a single misstep. A sharp twist of his wrist.
The silver edge sliced across his palm.
Kieran hissed, his body tensing for half a second before he gritted his teeth and straightened, gripping the blade even tighter.
Blood welled instantly, trickling between his fingers, staining the metal crimson.
My feet moved on instinct. "Kieran"
He snapped his head up at the sound of my voice, golden eyes burning with something unreadable.
By the time I reached him, he was already gripping his wounded palm tightly, trying to hide the injury.
"You're hurt." I reached for his hand, but he pulled back.
"It's nothing." His voice was sharp, but there was something strained beneath it.
I frowned. "That's not nothing, Kieran. I already know. This wouldn't heal like other wounds; you're using the silver blade."
His jaw clenched. He hesitated before he answered, "Cassius told you that?"
"It doesn't matter; you're hurt, that's all that matters."
Carefully, I reached again, and this time, though rigid with resistance, he let me take his hand.
The sight of his blood-streaked palm made my stomach tighten. The cut was deep, the edges already inflamed. I knew silver wounds lingered, burned longer, and hurt more.
Without thinking, I tore a piece of cloth from the hem of my sleeve and began wrapping it around his palm. “You shouldn’t push yourself like this,” I muttered, my fingers shaking slightly as they secured the fabric.
Kieran exhaled through his nose, watching me work in silence.
When I finally met his gaze, his expression had shifted. Something unreadable flickered behind his golden eyes—an emotion that unsettled me.
As I wrapped his arm, I was feeling dizzy; my vision blurred every move I made.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then, quietly, Kieran murmured, “You shouldn't be here”
I swallowed. “Then why do I feel like I should?”
Kieran didn’t answer.
I was done wrapping his arm, then we stood up. Instead of saying thank you, he stood there, staring like he was thinking of a way to say it, but I wasn't in my right sense.
I was feeling like the world was on top of my head, pressing me. "Liora..." I heard him call, but it sounded like an echo in my head.
I grasped when I felt that sharp pain again. Then I fainted, not knowing what happened next.
KIERAN
I carried her through the dim corridors of the palace. My breath was harsh and uneven, my pulse pounding against my temples.
She had collapsed so suddenly, her body going limp against me.
One moment she was standing in the training yard, her worried gaze locked onto mine—the next, she crumbled, her eyes fluttering shut as if something had stolen the strength from her.
Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
“Damn it, Liora,” I growled under my breath, tightening my grip as I strode through the halls.
The moment I reached Cassius’s study, I kicked the door open with enough force that it slammed against the wall.
Cassius, lounging in a chair with a book in hand, shot up immediately. "What the hell—" His voice cut off the moment he saw the unconscious woman in my arms.
Cassius’s book dropped to the floor as he crossed the room in a heartbeat. “What happened?” His usual calm was gone, his gaze sharp with alarm.
I laid Liora onto a nearby couch, carefully brushing strands of hair from her clammy face. "She just... collapsed. One moment she was fine, and then—" I exhaled sharply, frustration edging my voice. "I don’t know what’s wrong with her."
Cassius knelt beside her, pressing two fingers against her pulse. It was there—steady but weak. His brow furrowed.
"Did she say anything before she collapsed?" I shook my head. "Nothing. She was just—" I stopped, my jaw tensed. "She was worried about me."
Cassius flicked a sharp glance at me. "And why would she be worried about you?"
I clenched my fists. "Because I was training with the silver blade. I cut my palm, and she saw it. And she ran to me and tied my palm with her hem. The moment she was done she fainted, then the cut was no more."
Cassius let out a slow, measured breath. " How come about that? So she was distressed because of you."
I hated the way those words sat in the air. "I didn't ask her to care."
Cassius gave me a knowing look. "And yet, she does." He looked closely at my palm. "But this? This is surprising. I need to send for the royal doctor." He went out to the guard and came back.
"Do you think a royal doctor will work?" I asked, staring at him as he gazed at Liora, touching her face softly.
"That's the only alternative for now. There's nothing I can do about it," he lifted his gaze at me. "I think now you're starting to see; she's no ordinary girl."
"What is she then? A witch? Are there still witches in Lykos?" I asked curiously. "I think so. But witches can control themselves. Let's not go into that; we first need to find out what she is."
"How are we going to do that?"
"We?" He walked closer, his steps slow and deliberate as he spoke, "There should be no we, brother. You're her husband. You're the one to do it yourself. What I'm saying is, at least try to be close to her. Know her for a while, because now I'm thinking she's a witch."
He stood beside me. "But how can a witch control your shift and heal your wound from a silver blade? What impossible thing will she do next?”