Valtira
I watched Draven train on the grounds, moving through his warriors with brutal precision. Some of them let him win—fear written plainly in their stiff movements. After all, who would dare shame their Alpha by besting him openly? Others, braver or perhaps more foolish, fought him seriously and even managed to win, though terror still flickered in their eyes when they did.
I could have been anywhere else, but standing here felt better than being trapped inside the palace halls. The clash of swords, the rough shouts, the laughter, the clapping—it all drowned out my thoughts in a way nothing else had lately. My eyes never left the training ground.
I stood at the far end, a simple wooden tray balanced in my hands, a plain metal cup filled with water resting on it. I had been holding
