My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 34

Sera

The sun was sinking, bleeding a dull orange across the jagged peaks above the yard. I stayed in the dirt, waiting for the air to return to my lungs. I thought Yvara might come back to finish me off, but the yard stayed quiet.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps thudded against the packed earth behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of woodsmoke and cold snow reached me first. Fenris was carrying two long poles, wrapped in thick, scarred leather. He tossed one toward me. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud, and I barely caught it on the bounce.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Training," Fenris said.

"Yvara trains me."

"Yvara isn't here."

I stared at him, my grip tightening on the wood. I was exhausted. My ribs ached, my face was puffy from Taya’s crowd laughing at me, and Yvara’s words were still sitting in my gut like poison. I didn't want to do this. I wanted a bed and a door I could lock.

"I'm tired, Fenris."

"You're always tired," he said, his voice flat. "Defend yourself."

He swung. The pole whistled through the air. I brought my own up, the impact vibrating through my teeth as I blocked it. Fenris didn't move like Yvara. He was controlled, his movements measured and heavy. The pole was padded, but it still stung like a whip when it connected with my hip.

I had to keep turning, my boots scuffing the dirt as he circled me like a wolf. Every time I adjusted my feet, he was already moving to a new angle.

"When I was ten, I had a friend," Fenris said, his voice casual as he jabbed at my shoulder. "A servant boy. Same age. We used to sneak out and explore the tunnels. Pretend we were warriors."

I blocked another strike, my arms already burning. "Is there a point to this?"

"One winter, we decided to run," he continued, ignoring me. He swung low. I hopped back, the leather-wrapped wood grazing my shin. "We were going to find the South. Somewhere warm. Somewhere that wasn't Ironmaw. Back then, a warm land was a myth to Nothern settlers."

I blocked a high strike, the pole catching my forearm. I hissed, my muscles screaming in protest.

"We got three miles before my father’s men found us," Fenris said. He didn't sound sad; he sounded like he was reciting a trade agreement. "They dragged us back. Viktor was waiting in the Great Hall."

I faltered, my timing slipping. The pole caught my hip, sending me stumbling.

"My father made me choose," Fenris said, his pace never changing. "The boy or myself. One of us was going to be punished. He let me pick who."

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