Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Elara’s POV

“That’s the civilian?”

The voice hit me before I’d even crossed the threshold. Rough. Dismissive. Like gravel dragged across stone.

The training ground was nothing like I’d imagined. A converted warehouse on the eastern edge of the capital, all exposed brick and iron beams, with sand packed hard across the floor. Weapon racks lined the walls—swords, staffs, weighted chains. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and something metallic that might have been old blood.

A dozen knights stood in loose formation near the center. Every single one of them turned to stare. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

At me.

Kaelen walked beside me, dressed in black training clothes and a fitted undershirt that clung to the sculpted lines of his chest and arms like a second skin. He looked like he’d been carved from obsidian. Dangerous. At ease. Like he belonged here the way fire belonged in a forge.

I, on the other hand, was wearing borrowed training pants and a tight vest that made me feel exposed in entirely the wrong way.

The man who’d spoken stepped forward. He was somewhere in his forties, thick-shouldered, brown hair threaded with silver. A jagged scar ran from his left temple all the way down to the corner of his mouth, pulling his expression into a permanent sneer.

Sir Marcus. Head instructor.

His eyes swept over me. Top to bottom. The kind of assessment that measured you in seconds and found you wanting.

“With all respect, Your Majesty.” He turned to Kaelen, arms folded. “Why am I babysitting an archive clerk?”

A ripple of low laughter from the knights behind him.

Heat crawled up my neck. My fingers curled into fists at my sides.

Kaelen didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. His voice dropped to that register I’d learned to recognize—the one that turned grown men’s spines to water.

“Her name is Elara Frostfang, Marcus. Use it.”

The laughter died.

Sir Marcus’s jaw tightened, but his posture shifted. Subtle. The barest dip of his chin.

“The woman who put Isolde Nightfire in the infirmary,” a woman’s voice cut in from the side. Lean, wiry, with a shoulder-length auburn ponytail and arms corded with muscle. She stepped out from behind the weapon rack, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Bare-handed, from what I heard.”

Sir Marcus’s scarred eyebrow twitched. “Rumors.”

“Medical reports.” The woman tossed the cloth aside and extended a calloused hand to me. “Riley Santos. Instructor. Welcome to hell.”

I took her hand. Her grip was iron. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Riley’s eyes glinted with something between amusement and warning. “Marcus hasn’t even started.”

Sir Marcus stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the individual ridges of that terrible scar. His breath smelled like black tea and contempt.

“I don’t care who you put in the infirmary, civilian. This is the Royal Knights’ training ground. We forge soldiers here. Not—” his gaze flicked to Kaelen, then back to me, “—entertainment.”

Something cold and sharp unfurled in my chest. The same thing that had woken when Isolde threatened Valerius. Not rage, exactly. Steadier than that. Harder.

“Then forge me,” I said.

Silence.

Sir Marcus stared at me. For a long, uncomfortable moment, the only sound was the distant clang of metal from an adjacent room.

“Marcus.” Kaelen’s voice was quiet. Absolute. “She trains. She is treated with the same respect as any recruit. That is not a request.”

The scar pulled tight as Sir Marcus’s jaw clenched. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

Kaelen held his gaze for another beat. Then he turned to me. Something shifted in his dark gold eyes—warm, brief, meant only for me. A flicker that said, Show them.

Then he stepped back toward the observation platform, and I was alone on the sand.

Sir Marcus didn’t waste time.

“Endless push-ups. Countless burpees. Then laps until I say stop.”

He barked the orders like they were weapons. I dropped to the sand and started.

The initial push-ups were manageable. The subsequent sets burned. The final ones felt like someone had filled my arms with molten lead. Sand ground into my palms. Sweat dripped from my chin and made dark spots on the packed floor.

Behind me, I heard the murmur.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify