My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225 Sword Lessons Begin

Chapter 225 Sword Lessons Begin

“Lord Soren, could we pause for a moment?” Fiona ventured, still hoping for grace.

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Soren’s answer was a silent shake of the head. He only ran a cloth along the hilts of the two swords lying across his knees-the heavier one for himself, the plainer one chosen for her.

Thinking of Hillary, Fiona tried a different tactic. “Lord Soren, you’re the very best. Let me rest just a little, please?” she said, imitating the other girl’s sugary tone.

Soren’s hand stilled. He lifted his gaze and regarded her for a heartbeat, the mountain breeze ruffling a loose strand of his hair.

Fiona, usually adaptable, felt a flush climb her cheeks. She was no child; such syrupy words sounded painfully out of place, lacking even a trace of playful charm.

“Very well-rest for the time it takes to finish one cup of tea,” Soren said, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Mortification pricked at Fiona, yet she managed to sit with an air of calm dignity, betraying not the slightest ripple of her embarrassment.

“Lord Soren,” she asked once her breathing steadied, “how skilled do you expect me to become with the sword?”

“Do what Princess Aurora does-pick up a few self-defense tricks and you’ll be fine,” Soren said, as though the matter cost him no more thought than brushing dust from his sleeve.

Fiona’s brows twitched. Soren rarely spoke of people he had not seen in ages, yet tonight he summoned Princess Aurora’s name without hesitation. The choice rang like a hidden bell, and she tucked the sound away.

“The Amber Room’s shop in Brorchester-Princess Aurora has promised to station trustworthy eyes there. She said the checkpoints will open for our caravans. Has Lord Soren already dispatched men to see it done?” Fiona asked once she steadied her pulse.

“The princess’ purse is far from heavy, so she welcomes any channel that might fill it,” Soren replied, voice light. “She wants fifty percent. You may keep thirty. I will settle for the remaining twenty.”

In truth, Fiona understood; whatever fondness the Brorchester princess professed, silver was the real magnet that drew the royal hand toward their venture.

Still, Soren’s willingness to take only twenty percent felt uncharacteristically generous, so she

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Chapter 225 Sword Lessons Begin

kept her doubts coiled like a sleeping snake.

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Besides, the agreement had closed the very week Soren left the capital, officially for Danwick. Brorchester lay just beyond that frontier-too convenient a coincidence for comfort.

If he had crossed into Brorchester, it would not have been merely to haggle over shop ledgers. What scheme, then, had drawn him north?

In fact, Soren had meant to spare her a larger share; yet distrust ran so deep that Fiona circled the gesture like a wary cat, her accidental guess brushing close to truth.

Her thoughts strayed to Xavier’s abandoned ancestral house, rumored to sit not far from Brorchester’s border.

For two dawns she had ended practice panting, arms trembling.

By the third, the blade began to speak a language her muscles understood. If one could master a new skill, why not gather it?

The weapon Soren chose for her felt almost custom-forged-balanced so well that clever leverage replaced brute force. Pain lingered only in her wrist, a dull throb she could still bear.

When she set out for Havenford Estate that morning, the ache remained, a private reminder beneath her sleeve.

Havenford Estate stood on Jexburgh’s quieter edge, yet the Zonfrillo family had always watched over it, granting the house an unspoken prestige.

A young master there had once looked at Fiona with interest, but courtesy kept him silent while Zachary served in distant Junbert.

The ties between the Havenford and Zonfrillo Estates ran deep; besides Naomi and Soren, even Penelope arrived that day, her presence softening every corridor,

Hillary was at the archery range when Fiona arrived. “Fiona, how did you ever take first place at archery? To me it feels impossible,” she said, lowering her bow and striding over.

“Only if you rest will the muscles remember what they learn,” Fiona said, noting the raw skin stretched across Hillary’s knuckles.

Hillary merely smiled, the kind of smile that refuses surrender; to someone who hates losing, blisters are medals.

“Such dedication explains why Hillary excels at all Six Arts,” Penelope observed, genuine admiration warming her regal tone.

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Chapter 225 Sword Lessons Begin

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