CHAPTER 160: CHAPTER 159: BETWEEN THE BLADES, THE SILENCE

A few hours later

Lumberling stepped into the elven clearing where he usually trained, the trees parting like silent witnesses to his arrival. The scent of wildflowers mingled with the hum of arcane energy in the air. Thessalia was already there, arms folded, her green hair catching the sunlight like strands of moonlight. She eyed him with an arched brow, calm, analytical... but not without a trace of something else beneath.

"You’ve got a good smile today," she said coolly, not even bothering to look directly at him.

Lumberling grinned. "Of course I do. I’m meeting my favorite teacher again, after all."

But Thessalia didn’t respond to the flattery. Her green eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable. "I didn’t know skipping lessons with your ’favorite teacher’ was such a common custom among humans."

He rolled his shoulders with a lazy stretch. "Some... pressing business came up."

"Oh? Would that business have long blonde hair and still be wearing the marks you left on her neck?" Her tone was cutting, clinical, but the slight flicker in her eyes betrayed something deeper, something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Lumberling didn’t flinch. He only smirked. "You mean Aurelya? Yes. That business was very important."

Thessalia continued to stare at him without speaking. Her expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, but something shifted in her eyes, flickering like the edge of a flame in the wind.

Then, all at once, she looked away. Her chin tilted subtly to the side, green lashes lowering.

"She smelled like you," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. "Aurelya. When she passed me."

Lumberling blinked. He hadn’t expected her to say that. Not in that tone.

She didn’t look back at him, but her fingers were tightening slightly at her sides.

"We’ll be leaving soon," she added after a pause, her voice soft but strained.

"It’s strange," she continued, more to herself than to him. "These training sessions... I should’ve found them boring. Repetitive. Wasteful, even. But they weren’t."

She turned her head slightly, green eyes catching his in the dappled light.

"They were... peaceful," she admitted. "I didn’t expect that."

Lumberling smiled gently. "I’ll be waiting for your next visit."

Thessalia blinked, caught off-guard by the softness in his voice, and the promise in his words.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t taunting.

He meant it.

And it pierced something deep in her chest.

Her breath hitched, just a little. She nodded slowly, unsure whether the heat rising to her cheeks was from the sunlight or the weight of his gaze.

When she had first measured him, he was nothing more than an asset, a force with raw potential, reckless charm, and loyal monsters at his back.

Her mind had always been sharp, cool, strategic. She trusted it more than her emotions. But over the months spent together, through mana drills and quiet talks, watching the determination in his eyes, feeling the steadiness in his presence, something had shifted.

She had begun to see the man.

And worst of all, she had started to feel.

Her mind still calculated his worth. His potential. What he could become.

But her heart, traitorous, foolish thing had begun to believe in something more.

She wasn’t ready to name it.

Not yet.

Then she spoke again, tone abruptly changing.

"You should speak to Lady Vaenyra soon," she said without looking at him. "Before it’s too late."

Lumberling blinked. "What?"

She shook her head. "Forget it. Just... don’t let that one slip away, if she’s important to you."

He didn’t fully understand what she meant, but the way she said it stirred something in him. He just smiled faintly and nodded. "Thanks."

They resumed their magic lessons as sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting shadows around them. But the quiet tension between them had changed, less frost, more heat. Something unnamed was blooming, delicate but persistent, like a sprout in spring.

...

Days slipped by, and during one of their regular bouts in the village training yard, Lumberling finally began to understand what Thessalia had meant.

The clang of metal echoed beneath the canopy, spears and blades dancing in rhythm. Dust rose in swirls beneath their feet as Aurelya grinned and lunged at him again, her strikes playful yet precise. She had grown bold, comfortable. Their exchanges often ended with teasing words, light laughter, the occasional intimate brush of her hand lingering too long on his shoulder.

But Vaenyra... she was different now.

She stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, emerald eyes watching silently as he parried another of Aurelya’s thrusts. Her blue hair shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, but the warmth that once lit her face, soft smiles, amused glances, quiet remarks was gone.

She hadn’t said a word since they began.

Not even to correct Aurelya’s footwork or deliver her usual clipped observations.

Lumberling, catching a flicker of her expression between parries, threw a light jab at Aurelya, something about her "wild swings" loud enough to carry.

No reaction.

Not a twitch of the lips. Not a blink.

She simply turned her head, as if the joke was wind.

Thessalia, adjusting her mana to the side, kept her eyes down. But he knew she saw everything.

After the spar, Lumberling dismissed Aurelya with a brief nod. His body thrummed from exertion, sweat clinging to his back, but his focus had shifted. He grabbed a cloth, wiped his brow, then strode over to Vaenyra.

He didn’t hesitate.

"Silent again?" he asked, voice low, calm. Not confrontational, but familiar.

Vaenyra didn’t look at him. "There’s nothing to say."

Her tone was cool, distant.

He stepped beside her, close enough to brush her shoulder but didn’t.

"You’ve been watching me like a hawk for the past hour," he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That says enough."

"I watch everyone," she replied flatly.

"Mm," he hummed, then added, "But I’m the only one you’re ignoring."

She didn’t deny it.

Aurelya took a slow sip from her gourd, eyes drifting from Vaenyra to Lumberling, and something, just a flicker crossed her face. But she said nothing.

Thessalia closed her eyes as if meditating, though her ears were no doubt tuned.

Lumberling turned to face Vaenyra fully.

"You don’t have to like how things are, but pretending you feel nothing at all?" He shook his head. "You’ve never been good at that."

At last, she met his gaze. Her emerald eyes, once curious, now measured him like a blade at rest, still sharp.

"You think you know everything," she said, not with fire, but a quiet, distant chill.

"No," he replied. "But I know you."

They held the stare a second longer before she turned away again, not storming off, not wounded, just... pulling back.

"I’ll see you at dusk," she said without looking back.

And with that, she walked off, steady, composed, unreadable.

Lumberling exhaled through his nose and let his gaze linger on her retreating figure. No outburst, no confrontation... just distance.

He ran a hand through his damp hair and muttered, mostly to himself, "So that’s how it’s going to be."

Thessalia finally opened her eyes.

"Told you," Thessalia said, her voice almost a whisper. "She’s quieter when it matters most."

Lumberling nodded once, but his gaze stayed locked on the trees Vaenyra had vanished into.