Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 227: Sparring...

Chapter 227: Sparring...

The Outer Training Grounds – Sunset

The sun dipped lower over Arcadia, bathing the stone training grounds in molten gold. The shadows stretched long, and the air smelled faintly of steel, leather, and dust. From a distance, the faint clashing of real steel against steel echoed—knights still drilling in the far fields—but here, tucked into a quieter corner near the old walls, it was just the two of them.

Evelina adjusted the loose tunic she wore, brushing a stubborn strand of hair away from her face. She shifted the wooden sword in her hands, feeling the weight, the balance. Not nearly as sharp as the weapons she was used to, but enough for tonight.

Across from her, Damian rolled his shoulders, already bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, sword angled with casual confidence.

"I haven’t sparred in weeks," Evelina said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Be gentle."

Damian’s mouth quirked into a smirk. "I’ll try. But you did just get declared a state asset." His tone turned mockingly grave. "I’m guessing I can’t bruise you too badly."

"Depends where," she quipped, and Damian barked out a laugh.

Without another word, he struck—light, easy, testing her reflexes. Their wooden blades met with a sharp clack, and the tension melted instantly into a game.

Strike. Parry. Circle. Breathe.

Laugh.

The dance between them grew quicker, more familiar, as Evelina remembered the rhythm of combat. The feel of reading someone’s intent through the twitch of a muscle, the way their breathing shifted.

"You know," Damian said between fast exchanges, "I’ve fought off assassins. Raiders. Sparred with Zade a hundred times. But none of them duck quite like you."

"I’m graceful," Evelina said, neatly dropping under his next swing. "Like a cat."

"You’re built like a dagger," he shot back, grinning. "Sharp. Stubborn. Dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And you’re about as subtle as a battering ram," she teased, deflecting another strike and spinning neatly away.

Their swords crossed again, wood grinding against wood for a brief second as they locked eyes—challenge and affection sparking at once.

Then Damian abruptly surged forward, pushing her backward in a clean move that had Evelina stumbling.

"Cheap shot," she muttered.

"Effective," he said without remorse.

"Still cheap."

He grinned boyishly. "You wound me."

Another exchange. Another heartbeat faster.

And then he lunged.

Evelina yelped, instinctively dropping her sword as she tried to pivot away. But he caught her around the waist, laughing as he spun her and lowered her onto the training mat with an effortless, if slightly theatrical, move.

She landed with a light thud, the world tilting as she found herself pinned gently under him, Damian bracing himself on one elbow beside her, his breath warm against her face.

Their laughter faded slowly, replaced by something heavier. Quieter.

"You cheat," she whispered.

"You distract easily," he murmured back.

His face hovered just above hers—close enough that she could see the flecks of gold hidden in the stormy grey of his eyes. Close enough that the heat between them shifted from playful to something that made her heart stumble.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t fierce. It wasn’t rushed.

It was deep and slow, the kind of kiss that carved out a world of its own between two heartbeats. A silent promise, tender and unshakable.

Her fingers curled into his shirt instinctively, clutching at him like an anchor.

When they finally pulled apart, Evelina’s breath trembled against his lips.

"We’re still at war, you know," she said in a low voice.

"I’m aware," Damian murmured.

"And Draven’s taking us gods-know-where tonight."

He brushed his knuckles down her jawline with maddening gentleness. "Then let this be the last bit of peace before the storm."

Evelina nodded faintly, feeling a lump form in her throat that had nothing to do with fear.

From deep inside her mind, Relia stirred and sighed dramatically.

"Okay," her wolf muttered. "I take it back. I’m letting him stay. Forever."

Evelina smiled against Damian’s shoulder.

She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, tangled together on the practice mat under the fading sun. Listening to each other breathe. Feeling the world slow down for just a little while.

Storm stirred faintly inside Damian’s head, his voice a low, approving rumble.

"She’s our anchor. Our strength. Hold her tight, boy. Hold her like the war doesn’t exist."

And Damian listened.

Because the war would come.

Draven would come.

Tobias would strike.

But right now?

Right now, there was nothing but her heartbeat against his chest. Nothing but the warmth of her breath, her hand curled lightly against his ribs.

When the final light of the sun slipped below the edge of Arcadia’s mountains, Damian finally stirred, pressing one last kiss to her temple.

"Come on, Evie," he said quietly. "Let’s get ready. The next time the king calls... we’ll need to be ready for whatever storm comes next."

Evelina nodded and let him help her up, their fingers lacing together automatically.

The training grounds were nearly empty now, shadows long and deep across the courtyard. The world waited beyond the castle walls, full of blood and choices and ancient promises.

But for tonight, as they walked back inside together, Evelina knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Whatever came next—

She wouldn’t face it alone.

**************

"I haven’t sparred in weeks," Evelina said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Be gentle."

Damian’s mouth quirked into a smirk. "I’ll try. But you did just get declared a state asset." His tone turned mockingly grave. "I’m guessing I can’t bruise you too badly."

"Depends where," she quipped, and Damian barked out a laugh.

Without another word, he struck—light, easy, testing her reflexes. Their wooden blades met with a sharp clack, and the tension melted instantly into a game.

Strike. Parry. Circle. Breathe.

Laugh.

The dance between them grew quicker, more familiar, as Evelina remembered the rhythm of combat. The feel of reading someone’s intent through the twitch of a muscle, the way their breathing shifted.

"You know," Damian said between fast exchanges, "I’ve fought off assassins. Raiders. Sparred with Zade a hundred times. But none of them duck quite like you."

"I’m graceful," Evelina said, neatly dropping under his next swing. "Like a cat."

"You’re built like a dagger," he shot back, grinning. "Sharp. Stubborn. Dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And you’re about as subtle as a battering ram," she teased, deflecting another strike and spinning neatly away.

Their swords crossed again, wood grinding against wood for a brief second as they locked eyes—challenge and affection sparking at once.

Then Damian abruptly surged forward, pushing her backward in a clean move that had Evelina stumbling.

Another exchange. Another heartbeat faster.

And then he lunged.

She landed with a light thud, the world tilting as she found herself pinned gently under him, Damian bracing himself on one elbow beside her, his breath warm against her face.

Their laughter faded slowly, replaced by something heavier. Quieter.

"You cheat," she whispered.

"You distract easily," he murmured back.

His face hovered just above hers—close enough that she could see the flecks of gold hidden in the stormy grey of his eyes. Close enough that the heat between them shifted from playful to something that made her heart stumble.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t fierce. It wasn’t rushed.

It was deep and slow, the kind of kiss that carved out a world of its own between two heartbeats. A silent promise, tender and unshakable.

Her fingers curled into his shirt instinctively, clutching at him like an anchor.

When they finally pulled apart, Evelina’s breath trembled against his lips.

"We’re still at war, you know," she said in a low voice.

Evelina nodded faintly, feeling a lump form in her throat that had nothing to do with fear.

From deep inside her mind, Relia stirred and sighed dramatically.

"Okay," her wolf muttered. "I take it back. I’m letting him stay. Forever."

Evelina smiled against Damian’s shoulder.

She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, tangled together on the practice mat under the fading sun. Listening to each other breathe. Feeling the world slow down for just a little while.

Storm stirred faintly inside Damian’s head, his voice a low, approving rumble.

"She’s our anchor. Our strength. Hold her tight, boy. Hold her like the war doesn’t exist."

And Damian listened.

Because the war would come.

Draven would come.

Tobias would strike.

But right now?

Right now, there was nothing but her heartbeat against his chest. Nothing but the warmth of her breath, her hand curled lightly against his ribs.

When the final light of the sun slipped below the edge of Arcadia’s mountains, Damian finally stirred, pressing one last kiss to her temple.

"Come on, Evie," he said quietly. "Let’s get ready. The next time the king calls... we’ll need to be ready for whatever storm comes next."

Evelina nodded and let him help her up, their fingers lacing together automatically.

The training grounds were nearly empty now, shadows long and deep across the courtyard. The world waited beyond the castle walls, full of blood and choices and ancient promises.