Chapter 350: Her Ability to Last
Draven.
It was Valmora.
Her voice thundered inside my head, reverberating like a storm against stone, and I swore the air in the study shifted, heavy with her wrath.
"I will take care of her." Rhovan snarled back immediately, his voice vibrating with sharp defiance.
Before I could respond and even form the words boiling at the tip of my tongue, both of them vanished.
Rhovan’s presence, gone. Valmora’s furious echo, gone.
I leaned back in my chair, my pulse hammering in my temples. My wolf had just cut me out. In fact, both of them had.
My teeth ground together. ’What in the moon’s name are you hiding from me, Rhovan? And Valmora... what are you planning?’
The silence lingered, and my head felt too empty, as I fixed my eyes on the dancing firelight, and let the weight of everything settle. Pieces of a puzzle I didn’t yet understand.
Two truths formed in my mind, clear and cold.
First, Meredith had to learn control. If she couldn’t hold Valmora back when the time Rhovan all but admitted was inevitable, then Valmora would consume her, twist her, ruin her.
So, I had to train her, not just in combat, but in command of herself.
Second, I had to keep watch on Rhovan. He never responded to me. Not even when I asked what Valmora had tried to say before he silenced her, nor when I questioned why she hated him so much.
Instead, he had lured me into talking in circles for nearly an hour, feeding me fragments and evasions.
Valmora’s voice, calling him a ’sneaky, lying bastard’ re-echoed in my head. And she wasn’t wrong.
Rhovan was powerful, arrogant, and prideful. Too often, he wanted things his way. But for all that, he wasn’t Valmora. He wasn’t ancient, he most definitely wasn’t beyond me.
I could control him, and that was the difference—the safeguard.
And it was the very thing Meredith had to learn.
I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, my fingers drumming once against the desk before I stilled them.
Yes. This would be my task now. Keep Rhovan on a leash, and make sure Meredith knew how to keep Valmora on hers.
---
~Hours Later~
The evening air hung heavy with the smell of sweat and earth. And I crossed my arms with my gaze locked on Meredith.
Dennis and Jeffery circled her slowly, each of them loose and ready, like predators stalking prey. She stood in the middle with her fists clenched, and her violet eyes alert but calm.
"Follow her rhythm," I said, my voice low but firm, meant for Dennis and Jeffery. "No sudden strikes. Allow her to block catch the flow. This is about control, not winning."
They both inclined their heads. Dennis gave a little grin, but he obeyed while Jeffery shifted his weight patiently.
The fight began in measured beats. Jeffery struck first, a jab aimed toward Meredith’s shoulder. She caught it with her forearm, her stance wobbling slightly, but she held on.
Dennis swept in next, his strike was deliberately slower than usual. Meredith barely blocked it again.
I exhaled through my nose, my satisfaction tempered with caution. She was learning, piece by piece. Her body remembered what her mind doubted.
Yet even as I watched, my thoughts wandered. There was trace of Valmora stirred within her.
I couldn’t feel her presence, not even a whisper. Which could only mean one thing—she was still locked away, tangled in her endless quarrels with Rhovan. And that unsettled me more than if she had shown herself.
Meredith ducked, rolled, and rose again with determination blazing in her eyes. She was sharper now, quicker to catch Dennis’s fist, and quicker to pivot when Jeffery tried to sweep her leg.
My chest rose with a quiet pride, but I didn’t let it show.
The sparring rhythm settled into a steady back-and-forth—strike, block, and dodge. Meredith’s breathing was rough but steady, her focus sharper than I had seen in weeks.
Then Dennis, ever unable to keep his mouth shut, grinned as he circled her. "Careful, dearest friend, or I will have to go easy on you."
Meredith’s eyes narrowed, though her lips twitched at the corner. "Would you die if you kept your lips sealed for five minutes straight?"
He feigned a gasp and pressed a hand to his chest. "Yes. Without a doubt. Silence would kill me faster than any blade."
Even Jeffery’s lips curved with amusement.
Meredith rolled her eyes but didn’t falter in her stance. "Then let me give you a warning. If you try to distract me, I will kick you out of this ground myself."
Dennis chuckled as he circled closer, clearly enjoying the exchange. But I caught the spark in my wife’s eyes. She wasn’t rattled, she was in control.
So, I stayed silent with folded arms, watching since she didn’t need me to intervene.
And truth be told, it pleased me to see her stand toe-to-toe with Dennis’s endless antics. It meant she was settling into herself, but only as a fighter.
Time bled into motion—thirty minutes of dodges, strikes, blocks, and counterstrikes.
Meredith’s movements grew sharper with each exchange, but the signs were there. Her shoulders sagged slightly, her breath came harder, and her footing wavered with the smallest delay.
And that became my cue to call it a day.
"Stop." My voice cut through the clash of limbs.
Dennis and Jeffery stepped back immediately, giving her space. Then she straightened as sweat glistened along her brow, chest rising and falling as she fought to steady her breath.
I walked into the circle, my boots crunching against the dirt, and came to stand before her. Her violet eyes lifted to mine, weary but burning still.
"You did well today," I told her, my tone even, though the faintest hint of pride edged my words. "But you have a long way to go in terms of stamina."
Her shoulders dropped at the same time her lips parted.
"When war comes, your skill and speed won’t be the only things that matter," I continued with my gaze holding hers. "What will matter is your ability to last on the battlefield."