Chapter 14 Aug 18, 2025 The ring cracked with the sound of wooden staves striking. Dust rose in thin clouds, clinging to skin, to breath, to tension that hadn't eased since dawn. Mira leaned against the outer steps, heart steady only in rhythm, not in peace. Her fingers itched to be back in the fight, but she couldn't look away from the center of the ring where Tessan circled Bastian like a hawk that knew it had the crowd on its side. They'd been matched for the last drill. No surprise. Tessan's laugh had carried across the yard when the pairings were called. Mira hadn't laughed. She hadn't spoken at all. Just stepped back, towel slung over her shoulder, and watched. Now she wished she hadn't. Tessan ducked low, faked a blow, and twisted her grip. It wasn't an attack. It was a performance. Bastian blocked her with ease-grip firm, stance immovable-but that didn't stop the way Tessan leaned in. And just like that, without hesitation, she kissed him. Gasps flared around the ring like sparks. Mira didn't move. But her throat closed anyway. Her stomach dropped like a stone. Every muscle in her body screamed to react, but she sat frozen on the steps, watching him-watching them. Bastian didn't kiss Tessan back. But he didn't stop her either. That was enough. Mira stood up. Her legs felt like stone. She didn't look at anyone as she walked off the steps and toward the edge of the yard. The crowd parted like it sensed a storm brewing in her chest. She didn't wait to hear if he called her name. Didn't look over her shoulder. She already knew what she would see. She made it halfway through the side corridor behind the barracks before she stopped, lungs tight and useless. Her hands curled into fists. She wasn't sure if the heat rising to her ears was from fury or heartbreak, and she hated that she couldn't tell the difference. Footsteps followed. She heard them even before she wanted to. "Mira." She didn't turn around. "Don't." He caught up anyway, breath ragged, voice too soft for the weight it carried. "Let me explain." She spun. Her glare hit like a slap. "Explain what, exactly? That you were too shocked to push her off? That you're suddenly okay being used as a prop for someone else's game?" "It wasn't what it looked like," Bastian snapped. "That's your excuse? Really?" Her laugh was sharp. "You stood there like a statue while she staked her claim in front of everyone." "I didn't ask for it." "No," she said, stepping closer, "but you didn't stop it either." His jaw clenched. "It was a sparring match." "No. It was a spectacle. And you let her make it one." "I wasn't thinking-" "Clearly." He tried again, voice lower now. "I didn't mean to hurt you." She stared at him. Her eyes stung, but nothing fell. "You don't get to say that. Not when you stood there and let her kiss you like I never existed." "It wasn't about you." That did it. Her expression twisted, wounded and raw. "Everything is about me when it comes to her." He opened his mouth, but she didn't let him speak. "You think I haven't noticed?" she said, voice breaking into steel. "Every time she circles you, every time she talks about me like I'm the dirt she scrapes off her boots-you let her. And now you've handed her the weapon." "She's nothing to me," Bastian said, low. "She's something to me," Mira shot back. "She's the girl who kissed you while I watched. And you let her." He didn't answer. Mira's breath came fast. Her chest heaved like she'd just finished a fight, but there was no victory in this. Only smoke and splinters. Her pulse roared behind her ears, every word lodged in her throat scraping on the way out. "You don't get to do this to me," she whispered, voice shaking. Then she raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.