CHAPTER 110: DELULU AIYANA (3)

As the chief’s daughter, Aiyana grew up under constant scrutiny. Every word, every step was measured, weighed against the legacy she was expected to uphold. But discipline never came naturally—not when she spent her days sneaking off with Atia and Yoa, stirring up mischief across the jungle. Time and again, she found herself on the brink of punishment, her elders threatening confinement until she learned to behave.

The only thing that kept her free—and kept her from losing the friends who made her feel alive—was her relentless drive to prove herself in training. Aiyana quickly rose to become one of the Oncari’s most skilled warriors, earning a grudging respect that even her wild spirit couldn’t tarnish. It also acted as shield from potential love interests.

Something she’d been against since the moment her auntie told her she would one day find a mate worthy to lead the Oncari. Those exact words had always stuck with her even when she was so young. Why would her mate lead her people when she was the Chief’s daughter?

Does the title of Chief not pass down to her? And why not? She had no brother or other relatives. Her mother passed away when she was young and her father would not take another to help raise her.

Aiyana never voiced her question. She already knew it wasn’t appropriate. But ever since, she made sure that if she wasn’t the one to lead her people then the person to stand by her side and become the next Chief had to be someone truly worthy.

At the young age of eight. Aiyana hadn’t quite figured out how she would ensure this just yet. One thing she knew for certain was that the mystery man had to have the strength and heart of a warrior. And perhaps... he had to do everything she said.

Or maybe she could secretly train and learn everything she needed to inherit her birth given right to become the next Chief of the Oncari. If that didn’t happen, then she really would find someone with good qualities, and ability to do as she said so she indirectly was leading the Oncari.

So when she met Sahco... Well... They didn’t exactly hit it off like Nova might have expected.

Aiyana rolled onto her back, and stared up at the stars. She lay on the roof of her treehouse, and fortunately Nova and Yoa weren’t at their usual spot on their rooftop.

Tonight Atia hunted and she decided to rest for once, though she was restless, her mind spinning and weaving together old memories. It was all Nova’s fault. She huffed, realising that all she’d been doing was avoiding her own issues in favour of Yoa’s.

Sleep was definitely not greeting her well tonight, and she found herself tapping her foot impatiently as she recalled the first time she met Sahco...

The river cleared just enough after the rain to reveal the white stones beneath its surface. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, dappling the muddy earth as Aiyana swung her staff in practiced arcs, striking the air with the snap of confidence.

She had claimed this spot early, wanting the quiet hum of rushing water and birdsong to sharpen her focus. Her father had reminded her that the time for softness had passed. She didn’t mind. If she wanted to inherit his title one day, she had to fight like she already wore it.

The Chief might not have agreed to this yet, but she would inherit the title. She was determined to prove herself.

Footsteps crunched through the underbrush behind her. She sighed loudly, and didn’t turn, confident enough in her skills to keep her back to a potential threat.

"You’re in my training ground," a voice said.

She pivoted slowly, staff resting on her shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The guy who emerged from the brush was tall, already packed with muscles on top of muscles, skin bronzed from sun and streaked with river mud like warpaint. His dark hair was damp, curling at the edges that were coloured green, and his smile was the type that made girls lose focus—and Aiyana’s temper rise.

He was clearly an Apatka, and an arrogant one at that. Aiyana’s expression remained blank. "I was here first," she said flatly.

He lifted a brow. "And I was here yesterday. You just didn’t see me."

She gave him a once-over. "Sahco, right?" She’d kept an ear out on news about all those who failed to become the next Yiska. She didn’t know what happened in the trials, not really, Yoa wouldn’t say, but the children who’d been chosen were chosen for a reason. They held traits and strengths needed to protect it.

Sahco’s name was slowly becoming more known among the Apatka for his strength and from the female perspective, his looks. How much of it must have gone to his head.

He grinned like it was a compliment. "Word travels fast. I didn’t know I was so popular."

"You’re not," she replied, already turning away, dismissing him and the conversation. Even if she did find him intriguing, and not because of his physical appearance... Sahco was nothing more than a distraction. That she could not have.

The only problem was, the guy didn’t leave.

Instead, he rounded Aiyana, eyes roaming over her, pausing on her weapon of choice. He stopped, legs wide, body imposing, rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "You train with a staff?"

"I train with whatever I need to win." She tipped her chin higher, shoulders rolling back as she eyed him, instantly on guard.

Sahco chuckled. "How noble."

Aiyana exhaled through her nose, willing herself not to react. She’d heard stories—Sahco was bold, cocky, good in a fight—but his arrogance rubbed against her like raw bark.

"Tell you what," he said, stepping closer into the clearing "Let’s settle it. Winner keeps the training spot."

She turned, eyes flaring. "You think you can beat me?"

"I think I’ll enjoy trying." The smirk that followed made her grip the staff tighter.

"Fine," she said, stabbing the ground once with the butt of her weapon. "No claws. No shifting. Just skill."

He tossed his bone-handled dagger aside and spread his arms. "Deal."

They began circling each other, eyes locked, the wind rustling through the nearby leaves and along their hair. Aiyana’s was braided tightly back as she assessed her opponent, watching every little twitch or movement. Then she planted her feet, firm as stone.

She struck first—fast and precise—a downward arc meant to knock him off-balance.

But Sahco stepped to the side, pivoting cleanly, and tapped her back with a quick jab.

"Point," he said.

She growled and spun. This time, she swept low, aiming for his legs.

He leapt, just in time, and came down with a palm strike that caught her shoulder. It stung, but not as much as it should have. Aiyana’s eyes narrowed. He was holding back. Sahco wasn’t giving it his all and that was even worse!

It meant she was weak.

Aiyana couldn’t be weak.

"Another point," he added, you know just to annoy her a little more.

Aiyana’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t used to being matched—certainly not bested. It was hard fighting these emotions surfacing beneath her skin like flickering flames.

Sahco swept his hand along the ground and threw it up. Aiyana hissed, head turning to the side as dirt stung her eyes. "Fighting dirty already?" she asked, uncaring that her sight was gone. She could still fight this guy.

"Fighting smart," he replied. "Try it sometime."

"You need to fight dirty to win?" Aiyana scoffed, one arm rubbing at her eyes as the other remained raised, ready for any attack, her body braced.

But it didn’t come. Sahco seemed more interested in their conversation than taking advantage of the situation he created.

"If you wanted your pretty eyes left untouched you should have said so when you gave your cute little list of rules," Sahco chuckled.

With a growl, she exploded forward with a flurry of strikes—high, low, feints between. Sahco blocked the first, dodged the second, but she caught him on the third—right across the ribs. He stumbled, breath puffing out of him.

She smiled now, sharp and vicious in victory. With another wipe of her arm, her sight returned. That’s right. She’d fought him blind. Take that you stupid crocodile.

Sahco recovered fast, grinning through the pain. "There she is."

She ignored that and they circled once more. Sweat beaded on their skin. Birds quieted around them as tension thickened the air.

This time he came at her—hand strikes paired with sweeping kicks. She parried with the staff, using its full length to keep him at bay, but he pressed close, relentless. A kick grazed her thigh. A palm snapped her wrist just wide enough that he slipped behind her, one arm pinning hers.

"Yield?" he whispered against her ear, voice low and smug.

She elbowed him hard in the ribs. He grunted, releasing her.

"Never," she hissed.

They broke apart, both panting now. She spun the staff and went for his knees again. He flipped backward, landing in a crouch. His grin hadn’t faded.

It only fired her up more.

They clashed again. Aiyana dropped low, sliding in with a shoulder feint, but Sahco twisted—snatching her staff mid-motion and flipped her clean off her feet.

She hit the ground hard, the air knocked from her lungs.

Before she could recover, Sahco knelt beside her, pinning the staff with one foot. His hand rested lightly against her collarbone.

"Yield," he said again.

She looked up—his hair dripping sweat, his chest rising with each breath, eyes gleaming with heat and pride.

And just like that, her frustration cracked—giving way to something else entirely. Oh no. There was a flutter in her stomach.

She didn’t smile, but her face changed, her lips parting slightly. Only ever so slightly. But enough for him to notice.

His smirk deepened.

"There it is," he said softly. "The look."

"What look?"

"The one girls give me when they stop wanting to punch me and start wanting to know my name."

Ugh. This guy was awful.

"I already know your name," she shot back, sitting up as he stepped off the staff.

"Then I guess we’re halfway there." He offered her a hand. She didn’t take it. He didn’t seem offended.

Instead, he retrieved his dagger, slipped it into his belt, and walked backward toward the trees.

"You fight well, Aiyana," he said, eyes still locked on hers. "Try not to miss me."

Then he turned and disappeared into the undergrowth, laughter trailing behind him.

Aiyana sat there for a long time, staring at the place he’d vanished.

She was still annoyed, and sore...

How did he know her name?