Sharp Words, Sharper Blades

The sun rose pale over the northern palace, casting long shadows across the training courtyard. The cold wind bit at exposed skin, but Kael barely noticed. He stood at the center of the yard, gripping his sword, breath steady.

Across from him stood Ren.

Golden hair pulled back, emerald eyes sharp with focus, dressed in light sparring clothes that clung to his lean, athletic frame — a perfect mirror to Kael’s own. They circled each other slowly, blades drawn.

Kael had agreed, reluctantly, to a morning sparring session. Ren had insisted.

“I thought southern princes preferred music and poetry,” Kael muttered, circling.

Ren flashed a grin. “And I thought northern princes only knew how to scowl. But here we are.”

Their swords clashed.

Steel met steel in a sharp ring, and Kael felt the immediate jolt of surprise. Ren’s strength matched his own, his stance confident and practiced. Kael pushed forward — only to find Ren spinning away smoothly, his blade flicking toward Kael’s side.

Kael blocked just in time.

He’s good, Kael realized, heat sparking in his chest. Very good.

Their fight became a dance — sharp, fast, precise. Where Kael was power and control, Ren was speed and unpredictability, darting in with teasing feints, laughing softly when Kael stumbled to catch up.

Finally, Kael locked their swords at the hilt, faces inches apart, breaths mingling in the cold air.

“You’re full of surprises,” Kael muttered, eyes narrowing.

Ren’s grin softened into something more intimate, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You have no idea, Kael.”

For a breathless moment, they stayed locked — not fighting, not speaking, just watching each other.

Then Kael stepped back abruptly, lowering his blade.

“That’s enough for today,” he said stiffly, turning away. His heart thudded harder than it should have.

---

That Night

The great hall was filled with music, food, and laughter — the grand wedding feast. Both kings toasted, nobles danced, and the people cheered.

Kael sat stiffly beside Ren, every muscle tense. He wanted to leave, to return to his rooms, to be alone.

But tonight, he couldn’t.

It’s the wedding night, Kael reminded himself grimly. Tradition demands we share a chamber.

When the feast ended, Kael walked quickly down the stone corridor, his cloak swirling behind him. He opened the door to his chambers — and froze.

Ren was already there, lounging casually by the fire, dressed in a thin white nightrobe.

“Leaving your own wedding night early?” Ren asked softly, one eyebrow raised.

Kael scowled. “I’m not here for games.”

He turned sharply, meaning to leave — only to nearly walk into the waiting group of elder advisors outside the door.

“Your Highness,” one said politely but firmly, “the kings request that you observe tradition tonight. To show unity between our kingdoms.”

Kael’s teeth clenched. Slowly, he turned back into the room, shutting the door hard behind him.

Ren was still smiling by the fire, green eyes dancing. “Well. Looks like we’re stuck together, husband.”

Kael yanked off his cloak and dropped heavily into a chair across the room, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Ren rose smoothly, moving to stand just beside Kael’s chair. “Relax, Kael,” he murmured. “I’m not here to bite — unless you ask nicely.”

Kael looked up sharply — only to find Ren watching him with a teasing, unreadable gaze.

His heart gave an uneasy thump.

This was going to be a very long night.

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End of Chapter 2

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