The King's Guard

Chapter 72

The rain had stopped by noon, but the yard still gleamed with puddles. Training had ended an hour ago. Most recruits had already gone inside, yet Kael and Jared stayed, circling each other like a problem neither could solve.

Reyna’s voice echoed from the doorway. “You two done measuring pride?”

Neither answered.

Jared’s blade twitched at his side. “He’s been walking around like he owns the Corps,” he said, eyes fixed on Kael. “You all just follow him like he’s Darius reborn.”

Kael exhaled. “This again?”

“You’re hiding something.” Jared stepped forward. “Every time we get near the truth, you vanish with Reyna and Kyna like the rest of us don’t matter.”

Kael kept his tone level. “It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” Jared laughed. “You mean secrets.”

“You wouldn’t understand them anyway.”

The words landed harder than Kael meant them to. Jared’s expression shifted: mockery first, then something darker. He took another step.

“Say that again.”

Kael’s fingers brushed the hilt at his hip. “You heard me.”

The first shove came quick and sharp. Kael staggered back, boots sliding through water. He caught himself, drew halfway, then stopped.

Reyna called again, louder this time, “Both of you, enough…”

Jared’s voice drowned hers out. “You think because Darius trusts you, you’re untouchable?”

“I never asked for his trust.”

“But you enjoy it.”

Kael’s silence only made it worse. Jared advanced again, blade raised, not to strike but to press. The tip touched Kael’s chestplate, light but deliberate.

“Go on,” Jared murmured. “Prove you deserve it.”

Kael batted the sword aside and countered. The clang rang across the yard. They closed the distance: metal, mud, breath.

Reyna shouted, “Stand down!”

They didn’t.

Jared’s strikes were fast, almost frantic. Kael parried, sidestepped, but the fury kept coming. Their boots splashed, blades ringing against the posts lining the edge of the yard.

Kael blocked a thrust, turned it, and locked wrists. “You’re not angry at me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t tell me what I am.”

“Then what are you?”

Jared shoved harder, faces inches apart. “I’m the one who should’ve led this squad.”

“You can’t lead what you can’t trust. Don’t push me to the wall, Jared.”

Jared twisted, catching Kael off balance, and slammed him against the wall. The air burst from Kael’s lungs. For a second neither moved.

“I have now, pretty boy. Want more?”

Rain dripped from the eaves above them. Jared’s breath was hot against Kael’s ear, ragged, uneven. His hand pressed to Kael’s collar, holding him there.

Kael’s voice came low. “You done?”

Jared didn’t answer. His grip only tightened, jaw clenched, eyes searching Kael’s face with something that looked nothing like hate yet wasn’t anything like kindness either.

“Say it,” Jared said. “Say you’re not better than me.”

Kael met his gaze. “I don’t need to.”

The next instant, Kael twisted, breaking the hold, spinning them both so Jared hit the wall instead. The impact cracked stone. Kael’s arm pressed across his rival’s chest.

“Get it through your head,” he hissed. “I’m not your enemy.”

Jared’s voice was rough. “Then stop looking at me like you pity me.”

Kael stepped back, but Jared followed, shoving again. They grappled shoulder to shoulder, boots sliding, a tangle of fury and restraint. For a moment, their struggle felt less like combat and more like something desperate neither understood.

Ember’s shout cut through it. “Enough!”

A spark cracked between them as Ember’s gauntlet struck the ground, sending a flash of heat up through the puddles. Steam hissed, blinding for a heartbeat.

When it cleared, Drax was there too, one hand on Jared’s arm, the other gripping Kael’s shoulder.

“Both of you,” Drax growled. “Drop it.”

Jared’s chest rose and fell. “He…”

“No,” Drax snapped. “Not a word.”

Kael wiped a streak of mud from his cheek, eyes still locked on Jared. “He started…”

“I said no,” Drax repeated.

Reyna finally reached them, breath short, expression sharp. “What in the hells was that?”

Neither answered.

Ember stepped between them. “This isn’t rivalry anymore. This is suicide.”

Jared turned away first, jaw tight. “If he wants to play commander, let him.”

“Stop,” Reyna said. “We’re supposed to be a squad, not a war zone.”

Jared laughed once, humourless. “Tell that to your golden boy.”

Kael shot back, “You’d rather I lie to you?”

“I’d rather you remember whose shadow you stand in.”

That silence that followed was heavier than any shout.

Reyna’s voice softened, warning in it. “You’re both crossing lines you can’t uncross.”

Jared glanced at Kael again not with anger now, but with something colder, almost wounded. “Maybe that’s the point.”

He yanked his arm free from Drax’s grip and stormed off across the yard, mud splashing under each step.

Ember watched him go. “He’s going to break something…or someone.”

Kael sheathed his blade. “Let him.”

Drax turned on him. “That attitude will get us all killed.”

Reyna sighed, rubbing her temples. “You two have been at each other’s throats since day one. One of you needs to bend before this cracks the whole squad.”

Kael’s tone was low. “I’ve bent enough. Or should I bend over for him to hit, huh?”

Reyna looked at him, seeing the exhaustion under the defiance. “Oh, dear… That's not what I mean. Maybe start talking instead of fighting.”

He didn’t reply.

The rain began again. The others drifted back toward the barracks, leaving Kael alone in the yard.

He stared at the wall where the plaster still flaked from the impact, at the faint outline of a handprint in the mud. His own pulse thudded in his ears, too fast, too loud.

He hated how it still echoed with Jared’s voice.

Inside, Jared sat on the edge of his bunk, hands trembling against his knees. Ember’s words chased him like ghosts: This isn’t rivalry anymore.

He told himself it was just pride, that Kael’s silence was what infuriated him. But the memory of that moment: the breath, the closeness, the way Kael refused to yield, gnawed at him.

He clenched his fists. “Damn him.”

From the doorway, Drax said quietly, “You’re losing more than temper, Jared.”

Jared didn’t look up. “Don’t start.”

“Not starting. Warning.”

“I don’t need your warnings.”

Drax leaned against the frame. “Then figure out what you do need. Because if this keeps up, Archon’s going to notice, and he won’t care who threw the first punch.”

Jared said nothing.

When Drax left, Jared finally exhaled, pressing his palms to his eyes.

Later that night, Kael wrote in his journal by the window, the ink trembling faintly with the pulse of the Rift still inside him.

> “Jared’s temper worsening. Feels personal now. Not sure if he hates me or what I represent. I can’t tell which would be worse.”

He paused, added another line.

> “Reyna’s right. We’re breaking.”

Lightning flickered in the distance.

He closed the book, set it beside the lamp, and looked out toward the training yard, toward the faint shape of a figure still standing there, motionless under the rain.

For a moment, he thought it might be Jared again.

Then the light shifted, and the yard was empty.