Chapter 39: Shadows on the Balcony
From the balcony of the Thorne estate's eastern wing, Kael Thorne leaned against the cold marble railing, arms folded, eyes fixed on the courtyard below.
The early morning sun glinted off the silver trim of the soldiers' armor as they trained in formation. But Kael wasn't watching them.
He was watching him.
Noel Thorne stood at the center of the dueling ring, wooden training sword in hand, surrounded by a cluster of winded guards—three of whom now sat on the edge of the field, defeated, sweaty, and very, very quiet.
The youngest Thorne's navy-blue tunic clung slightly to his back from exertion. His movements were sharp, practiced. His footwork precise. Every swing of the blade carried intent.
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Who the fuck is that?" he muttered.
Next to him, Damon Thorne raised an eyebrow, eyes also narrowed on the scene. His raven-black hair was combed and tied, robes pristine even at this hour. The slight shimmer around his fingers revealed his mana was active—subtly, always.
"Noel," Damon said simply, voice unreadable. "Apparently."
Kael scoffed, gripping the edge of the railing tighter. "Bullshit. That's not the same little shit who couldn't hold a blade straight three years ago."
"No. It's not."