Blood still dripped from Lukas’s blades. He wiped the gládios with torn pieces of his own uniform, sitting on a frozen stone of the tower. His breath came heavy. Not from exhaustion— but from contained rage.
The tower had spoken his name.
Boudica stood on the other side of the chamber, leaning against the wall. Her spears were planted into the ground, one on each side. She watched Lukas with a gaze that left no room for interpretation. No warmth. No contempt.
Only… surgical observation.
— “Your vertical slash was slow,” she finally said.
Lukas scoffed. — “I saved your life.”
— “If you had done it right, I wouldn’t have needed to retreat.”
Silence.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
— “Are you always like this?” he asked, cleaning the blood from his hand.
— “No.” She crouched down to check her own arms. — “Only when I’m alive.”
Lukas stared at the ground. Her breathing was low. Precise. As if her soul had been trained never to waste a single thing.
— “Why did you defeat me in the forest?”
Boudica tilted her neck, bones cracking. She took her time to answer.
— “Because I wanted to know if Luiz’s brother was worth anything… or just another weight with a pretty name.”
Lukas clenched his fist. — “And the verdict?”
She picked up a spear, tested its edge with her finger, and replied without looking at him:
— “I haven’t decided yet.”
He laughed. A dry, wounded laugh.
— “You’re a daughter of the tower.”
— “And you’re a body waiting for the next wound.”
She approached. Slowly. But without hesitation. Until she stopped right in front of him.
— “You reek of doubt.”
Lukas met her eyes.
— “And you reek of dead blood.”
Boudica tilted her head. Her gaze cut sharper than her spear.
— “Good answer.”
She turned to leave. But before disappearing, she muttered:
— “When I die, I want it to be by someone who knows how to cut.”
— “…Then don’t die yet,” Lukas replied.
She paused. For a heartbeat.
And then walked on, vanishing into the mist of the tower’s corridor.
End of interlude
