CHAPTER 171: THE NAME I NEVER WANTED TO SEE

[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Ground—Afternoon]

The clang of steel rang through the training grounds—sharp, clean, and so loud it made the air hum. My sword slid against Osric’s with a spark, and before I could even blink, he shoved forward with enough force to make my arms tingle.

Oh, so that’s how we’re playing today.

I shifted my weight to my back leg, letting his blade slide past, and brought mine up in a sharp arc toward his side. He blocked—barely.

"Good," he grunted, voice deep and clipped, like he was speaking through his teeth, "but you’re still—"

I cut him off by twisting my wrist and striking again, faster, harder, until the metal sang. "Still what?" I panted, my grin sharp enough to cut.

He didn’t answer—which meant I was making him work for it.

The knights lined along the edge of the training yard were silent, eyes locked on us. Not one dared to look away. It wasn’t the polite kind of attention you give your princess out of duty—no, this was the "holy hell, they might kill each other, and I can’t miss it" kind of attention.

Behind them, lounging like the royal beasts they were, sat Marshi and Solena.

Marshi—my enormous divine tiger—was sprawled out in the sun, paws crossed like he owned the place. Solena, his golden-feathered divine eagle, had decided her throne for the day was right on top of Marshi’s back.

Her talons curled into his fur while her piercing amber eyes followed our every move. Two divine beings, regal, terrifying, and utterly devoted... and they looked like bored parents watching their kids roughhouse.

"Eyes up!" Osric barked, forcing me to jerk back just in time to avoid a strike that could’ve smacked me in the ribs.

"Oh, please," I scoffed, spinning around and countering with a downward slash that rattled his arm, "you love it when I give you an opening. Makes you feel useful."

His lips twitched—the closest thing to a smile Osric ever gave in the middle of a fight—before he lunged.

The world narrowed to him, to me, to the ring of our swords and the burn in my muscles. Every swing felt heavier, sharper. Every block sent a shock through my arms. I matched him step for step, refusing to give ground. He was stronger—physically, undeniably—but I knew how to make up for it.

Speed. Precision. Reading him like an open book.

I feinted left, saw his eyes follow, then spun to the right and slammed my blade against his in a move that sent us both sliding back in the dirt.

The knights actually gasped.

Marshi let out a deep rumble, tail flicking lazily. Solena tilted her head, feathers ruffling, like she was already predicting who would win.

"You’re improving," Osric admitted, circling me now, steps slow and deliberate. His sword rested in both hands, steady, deadly. "But you still hold back when you think you’ve already won."

"I don’t hold back," I shot back, keeping my blade angled. "I’m just... merciful."

"Mercy will get you killed."

"So will arrogance." I grinned. "Your move."

He came at me like lightning—no hesitation, no mercy, just raw speed and power. And I met him head-on, the air between us snapping with the clash of metal.

We weren’t just sparring anymore. We were testing each other—testing limits. And I was not going to be the one to break first.

My sword clashed against his again, the sound ringing through the training grounds like a bell being struck by a god. The vibration traveled up my arms, but I dug my heels in and shoved forward.

Osric’s stance didn’t budge an inch—it was like the man had been planted there by the Creator Himself.

"Come on, Lavi," he said, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. "Show me more. I know you’ve got more."

"More?" I gritted my teeth, sliding to the side and coming at him with a strike that would’ve sent any of the other knights flying on their backs. "I’ve got plenty, thank you very much."

Steel met steel again, sparks flying. The knights watching around us had stopped pretending to train. I could feel their eyes glued to us, their heads turning as one with every movement. You could probably set a plate of tarts behind them, and no one would notice.

Even Marshi and Solena were watching—though in their own unique way. Solena, the ever-proud divine eagle, was perched right on top of Marshi’s broad striped back like she was the empress of the animal kingdom. Marshi didn’t even try to shake her off—just sat there, tail flicking lazily, golden eyes tracking every blow.

I feinted left, then twisted and struck low—Osric blocked it like he’d read my mind two days ago.

"Predictable," he murmured.

"Predict this!" I snarled, swinging upward with all my strength. Our blades locked overhead, the force of it making my knees bend.

And that was when he pushed back.

Not just a normal push. Oh no. This was the Osric special—a calculated, bone-rattling shove that had me stumbling a step back before I caught myself.

"Better," he said, advancing. Each of his strikes came harder, faster, and sharper.

My arms ached, but I refused to let the point of my sword dip. I blocked, twisted, ducked, and spun until my breath was coming in bursts and sweat was sliding down my back.

"Still standing?" His voice was infuriatingly calm.

"Barely," I admitted—then lunged.

We moved faster now, circling, our swords singing through the air. My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. This wasn’t just sparring anymore—it was war.

And then—

A flick of his wrist. A quick step forward.

And my sword was gone. One moment it was in my hand, the next it was clattering against the stone floor.

Osric stood there, blade at my throat, his expression utterly unreadable.

"Yield," he said quietly.

I glared up at him, chest heaving. My pride screamed never, but my body... my body knew better.

"Fine," I muttered, stepping back. "You win. Again."

Osric lowered his sword, giving me that annoyingly tiny nod of approval. "You’re stronger than yesterday."

"Wow," I said dryly. "The highest of compliments."

From the sidelines, I heard a low rumbling growl from Marshi. Solena cawed, almost like she was laughing at me.

I jabbed a finger at them. "Don’t you start. I can feel the judgement radiating from your feathers and fur."

Marshi huffed in that way only a giant divine tiger could—like an offended thundercloud—and Solena tilted her head, beak glinting, as if to say "Pathetic. Simply pathetic."

And then, right in front of my sweaty, battle-worn face... a handkerchief appeared.

I blinked at it. Then followed the arm up to Osric’s annoyingly calm expression.

"You really did your best," he said, his voice as steady as if we hadn’t just tried to break each other’s bones.

I stared at him for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of biting his hand just out of spite. Finally, I sighed in defeat. "Ugh... fine. I guess you’re right."

I took the handkerchief, wiping my sweat with all the grace of a dying walrus. "Let’s... take a break before my spine rebels against me."

Osric just nodded and, without a single groan or sign of fatigue, dropped down onto the grass beside me. Naturally. Because demons don’t get tired.

I collapsed under the nearest tree like a sack of grain being thrown off a cart. "My arms feel like jelly. And not even the good, wobbly dessert jelly. The kind that’s been left out in the sun for too long."

Osric chuckled—low, smug, and infuriatingly handsome. He had the audacity to look relaxed.

Marshi and Solena came over, the eagle perching on the tiger’s broad back, both of them settling beside us like loyal guards... or perhaps judgmental spectators. A warm breeze swept over us, carrying the faint scent of grass and the metallic tang of sparring steel.

"It actually feels... nice," I admitted, letting my head tip back against the bark.

And then...

"Princess..."

My eyes cracked open to see Nanny heading toward us, clutching a rolled sheet of paper.

I groaned. "Nanny, please tell me you’re here to announce that my responsibilities have been cancelled until further notice."

She ignored me, as always. "I brought the list of nobles who applied for your lady-in-waiting position."

With trembling arms (from training, not fear... mostly), I stretched a hand toward her. "Alright... give it here before my fingers lose the will to grip."

She passed me the paper, her eyes narrowing at my limp posture. "Shall I bring you some refreshments? You look like someone drained the very soul out of you."

Without hesitation, I pointed dramatically at the man lying beside me. "That demon... sucked my soul, Nanny."

Osric smirked but said nothing—probably because he knew it was true.

Nanny chuckled softly. "Very well, I’ll bring something for you before you waste away entirely."

"I love you more than life itself, Nanny..." I muttered, flopping back against the grass.

She chuckled again—probably filing that away under dramatic exaggerations my princess uses daily—and walked off toward the kitchens.

With a long, theatrical sigh, I turned my attention to the folded paper in my lap. The ink was fresh, the handwriting neat, and the list of hopeful names ran in perfect little rows.

"They’re all so... young," I muttered, scanning the first few entries. "Do they think being my lady-in-waiting is just afternoon tea and braiding my hair?"

Osric made a sound beside me—half chuckle, half knowing grunt—but I barely heard him. My eyes slid down the page.

And I froze.

My breath hitched.

There it was, in looping script that felt like a slap across the face:

Eleania Talvan.

The name pulsed in my vision, each letter like a curse I never wanted to read again.

I didn’t realize I’d spoken until the words tumbled out, slow and strangled.

"Eleania... Talvan..."

Why? Why in all the burning hells would she apply?