Chapter 319: The Conviction to Strike
Chapter 318: The Conviction to Strike
Lyria’s POV
"Y-you are b-brilliant," I said softly.
He appeared surprised by my words.
"Pardon?"
"You a-are brilliant," I repeated.
This time my voice carried greater certainty.
"You s-should not u-underestimate yourself. Nor should you diminish your own worth."
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
"S-sure, you may n-not possess J-Julian’s love of books."
I smiled gently.
"B-but brilliance t-takes many forms. You possess y-your own. I r-rather admire your h-honesty."
I hoped he understood what I meant.
"So you s-should not think yourself l-less simply because your f-friends possess d-different s-strengths."
"You are b-brilliant. You a-are e-exceptional. Y-you are amusing. And..."
A tiny smile found its way to my lips.
"I d-do not believe you are without c-cunning either."
His eyebrows rose.
"Oh?"
I nodded.
"T-to be perfectly honest, I did not imagine y-you would e-ever describe Duke V-Valenridge as c-cunning."
I laughed quietly.
"M-most people merely c-call him mysterious."
Earl Hawthorne laughed warmly.
"I cannot deny that Evander is mysterious."
He folded his arms.
"But is he alone in that regard? I rather think every one of us harbours something we choose not to reveal."
He inclined his head politely.
"Yourself included, Your Highness."
Heat rose into my cheeks.
He was correct.
There were things about me that remained hidden.
"But Evander," he continued, "rarely answers a question directly. He prefers half-truths. And I must admit that not everyone sees it too."
He smiled knowingly.
"That is why I call him cunning."
I laughed at that, and his smile widened.
His explanation made perfect sense.
As I watched him smile, I found myself thinking, not for the first time, how remarkably handsome he looked when he did.
There was something wonderfully unguarded about him.
Every time I spent time with these gentlemen, I discovered another admirable quality.
Each possessed a different sort of brilliance.
A different sort of kindness.
A different sort of beauty.
Perhaps...
Perhaps this was what Earl Hawthorne had meant.
The beauty that existed alongside the rot.
It had always been there.
I simply had not known where to look.
Earl Hawthorne straightened then, renewed determination entering his posture.
"Now then," he said, clasping his hands together lightly, "we ought to continue your lesson."
He gestured towards the open training floor.
"But whilst we do..."
His smile returned.
"I should very much like to hear more about you, Your Highness."
His tone remained warm and encouraging.
"I wish to know what brings you joy. What occupies your thoughts. What you enjoy. And what you dislike."
He paused before adding with a teasing smile,
"Apart from people who think only of themselves, that is."
His eyes shone with genuine curiosity.
"I want to hear everything."
I considered his question for a long moment, my mind turning over the words he had spoken. He wished to know everything about me.
The thought was both overwhelming and strangely comforting.
"You a-already know a-about me," I said at last, a note of uncertainty creeping into my voice. "T-there is not m-much else t-to tell."
Earl Hawthorne shook his head, a gentle smile playing about his lips.
"Your Highness," he said, his tone carrying a hint of gentle reproach, "pray do not begin this argument with me again. You know as well as I do that there is still a great deal I have yet to learn about you."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hand ever so slightly.
"We shall continue our lesson," he said, "and whilst we do, you shall tell me more about yourself. I am quite determined to know you better."
He stepped back, placing a respectable distance between us. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly, becoming alert once more, every inch the seasoned soldier.
"Now," he said, "I am going to come upon you like a predator, just as I mentioned earlier. I want you to strike me exactly as I taught you."
I drew a steadying breath.
My feet settled into the stance he had shown me. One foot slightly behind the other. Knees relaxed. My fists rose instinctively.
He nodded in approval.
"Very good."
Then he moved.
It was astonishing how swiftly a man of his stature could cross the distance between us. There was no wasted movement. Every step was purposeful.
I reacted on instinct, driving my fist forward.
His hand caught my wrist with ease. His grip was firm, though never painful.
He tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Are you attempting to pat me, Your Highness?" he asked.
"I a-am trying t-to attack y-you," I replied, unable to hide the faint note of indignation in my voice. "J-just as y-you instructed."
He released my wrist immediately and stepped back.
"Your form is correct," he acknowledged. "Your fist is arranged precisely as I showed you. Unfortunately, the punch itself carried no weight."
I frowned at his words.
"I could tell before it ever reached me that it would feel no stronger than a gentle tap."
He folded his arms.
"The conviction was absent."
I lowered my gaze then.
"You must remember what I told you earlier," he continued kindly. "Think of someone who has wronged you. Someone whose face you would not object to seeing bruised."
Despite myself, my jaw tightened.
"And do not forget," he added, his tone becoming more serious, "this is more than a lesson. It is preparation."
His eyes met mine.
"What if I truly were a predator?"
He allowed the question to linger.
"What if I genuinely intended to harm you?"
I swallowed nervously.
This was not merely an exercise.
It was meant to prepare me for a future neither of us could predict.
"I u-understand," I answered quietly.
He inclined his head.
"Good."
Some of the seriousness eased from his features.
"Now then," he said conversationally, "tell me something else."
He smiled.
"What else do you dislike? Apart from pompous people and those who insist upon adding rot to the world."
I found myself thinking.
There were many things I disliked.
Most of them were not especially important.