17

  Dark Energy

  “Are you ready, Adam?” Elsa asked.

  It was the first day of his training. Elsa had told him to wait outside the inn the night before, and this morning she’d shown up to lead him to their destination. He had expected something a bit more formal, maybe a training hall or barracks, but instead she had brought him to a house, no… it looked more like a luxurious villa. It was within a large, walled compound surrounded with greenery and fenced on all sides like the residence of some noble. At first, Adam had wondered if it was her home, but the place was clearly abandoned, with no sign of any property and the grass and trees were untended, overgrown and now blocking paths.

  She had led him behind the main building, to a yard filled with white sand, and there she surprised him again. He had expected a verbal lesson, maybe even some light stretching or simple exercises to start. Instead, she positioned him across from her and instructed him to unleash his magic on her without restraint, and with the intent to kill. It was so sudden that he thought he hadn’t heard her right and she might be joking, then she had repeated the instruction.

  “Are you sure about this?” Adam asked with narrowed eyes.

  Elsa nodded. “We need to learn more about your power. I’ll be fine.”

  That didn’t reassure him too much. She was a Gold-Rank knight, and he knew how powerful she was, but his magic was different, there were so many unknowns about it, and even she herself had said it was unsettling. He didn’t want to hurt her by accident, or maybe something worse. But she seemed relaxed about the whole thing, maybe it would be alright.

  Adam took a breath and stretched out his hand, feeling the familiar dark heat coil in his chest. It was much stronger now than it had been over the past few days. Thinking back to his volcano theory—his method for measuring his own power—his magma level sat just below half. He didn’t need nearly as much effort or focus to reach it anymore. He suspected this was his natural baseline, unless he somehow drew more of that… No, not something. He decided then to simply call it dark energy.

  He let out another breath as the air around his fingers began to warp, then suddenly, a burst of black flame erupted, streaking toward Elsa like a wave of death, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Before it could reach her, a radiant shield made of pure light snapped into existence in front of her, and the flames slammed into it with a thunderous sound. Where the darkness touched the light, the shield hissed and bubbled, and Adam could see the mana being eaten away, corroded as though by acid. Parts of her shield peeled off and vanished, consumed utterly by his flame. But the structure as a whole continued to keep the flames at bay… for now.

  Not willing to risk it, Adam closed his fist and the flames obeyed instantly, shrinking out of existence as though it had never been and Elsa dispersed her shield as well.

  She tilted her head slightly to the side and studied him with those deep, emerald eyes, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. “That was… interesting,” she said finally, keeping her voice controlled. “If you had kept pushing, my shield would’ve failed. Granted, it wasn’t my strongest defense, but it should have been more than enough. It seems ordinary mana is at a disadvantage against your magic. That is a really…”

  “A big deal?” Adam finished with a guess.

  “Big deal?” she asked incredulously. “That is an understatement, Adam. All magic is mana-based, but yours isn’t, and you’ve just shown it might even be stronger. This isn’t just unusual, it’s catastrophic for everything we think we know. Centuries of theory would crumble overnight and academics would tear themselves apart trying to study it.” Her gaze darkened with unease. “And the Church? They will not tolerate such strange power. Magic that isn’t a blessing from the Divine, that is stronger, it will frighten them. Adam—“

  “Be careful? I know,” he said and glanced at her, his jaw tight with worry. He knew that she worshipped the Divine as well; Elios, the One Light, or whatever he was called. It probably wasn’t easy for her dealing with this. His mere existence went against everything she knew, everything she was taught. “What about you? You’ve talked about the academics and the Church, but what do you think about me? What will you do?”

  Elsa hesitated. “This is the second time I’ve seen your magic, and knowing it might be stronger than mana is… surprising. But I still choose knowing over ignorance,” she said calmly. “And as long as I can keep putting every strange new thing about you into a single box—that you’re not from this world—it’s not too hard to reconcile with my beliefs.”

  He supposed that made sense. It was easier for her to keep her faith intact by treating him as an exception—an outsider who didn’t belong to this world’s rules—rather than admitting that the Church might be wrong about the very nature of magic.

  “Alright,” Adam said quietly, almost to himself. “I’d… hate it if you weren’t here.”

  “I won’t…” she stopped suddenly, as if realizing the mistake of allowing the words to slip out of her mouth, then she shook her head. “Let’s keep going.”

  They resumed the training, Adam unleashing controlled bursts of black flame while Elsa, true to her Gold-Rank status, began to repel his magic with growing ease now that she understood its nature. She doubled her light shields, the outer barrier absorbing the brunt of the impact while the inner held firm. Between exchanges, she guided him, offering tips on ramping up intensity, shifting angles, and quickening the speed of each volley.

  As his last burst of flame guttered out against her reinforced shields, Adam lowered his hand and stared down at his palm, feeling he had complete mastery over his power now, or at least, one aspect of it. Elsa regarded him for awhile, then she spoke up.

  “We’ve seen how your flames fare against my defenses,” she said. “But fights aren’t only about attacking. Let’s test the reverse, how well can your power protect you?”

  Adam arched an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to—”

  “I’m sure,” she interrupted gently and raised one hand, her palm outward. “I won’t aim to harm you. Just… brace yourself, breathe deeply, and focus on stopping it.”

  Before he could respond, a golden radiance surged around Elsa and formed into half a dozen slender blades made of pure light that hovered in the air before her, humming with restrained power, their edges seeming sharp enough to cut through stone. Adam’s first instinct was to dodge, to move, but he forced himself to stand firm and His heart almost leapt into his throat as the swords launched forward suddenly, streaking toward him like golden arrows.

  He almost flinched—muscles tensing, feet shifting involuntarily—but in that split second, he clamped down on the panic and pushed his will forward. Darkness surged at his command. He thrust his hand forward, and a screen of inky blackness erupted in front of him, forming a curved barrier no thicker than a pane of glass yet utterly impenetrable, like a magical windscreen. The light swords struck it with quiet thuds, hissing and fraying before winking out,

  When the last blade dissolved, Adam still kept the barrier up, just to be safe, then he exhaled a slow breath and the darkness receded as quickly as it had formed.

  Elsa lowered her hand and a faint, impressed smile curving her lips. “You did very well there, Adam,” she remarked. “I was sure I would have to stop it myself.”

  “I just focused… like you said,” he told her.

  They pressed on through the morning and the training got even more intense. Adam hurled streams of black flame, from short, vicious bursts to longer, more powerful waves, and Elsa met each one unflinchingly, her light shields adapting with every exchange. Then the roles reversed again. She summoned her golden blades—faster now, more numerous—sending them slicing through the air toward him. Adam’s responses sharpened with every repetition. His dark barrier surged into existence quicker each time, and he experimented under her instruction, making the barrier thicker, broader, until it could finally enclose him completely in a perfect circle of rippling blackness that swallowed light whole.

  Hours slipped by unnoticed as the morning turned into afternoon, then at last, Elsa let her final blade dissolve mid-air and she lowered her hand. The yard fell silent, save for the soft whisper of wind threading through the overgrown trees.

  She studied him for a moment. “You’re not tired?” she asked in surprise.

  Adam paused suddenly at her question, taking stock of himself for the first time. He wasn’t exhausted, no burning muscles, no labored breathing, none of the physical weakness the book explained mana users suffered after deep exertion. His volcano theory seemed to hold true: his magic did not tax his body’s endurance, but instead relied on a deep reservoir of dark energy, or “magma,” and the reservoir had only depleted slightly.

  It was hardly a noticeable dip, even after hours of intense use, and it still remained well above the low point from three days ago. He knew that if it fell too low, accessing his power would become more difficult, demanding greater effort and focus to reach. Still, the fact that he didn’t have to worry about suffering from Drain like other magic users was a clear advantage. The only real drawback was the slow recharge. It had taken three days for his reservoir to climb from near-empty after his first conscious and controlled use in the stable to this halfway-full baseline. He didn’t have rapid recovery, but at least the reservoir depleted slowly enough to sustain prolonged fighting if it ever came down to it.

  There was also always the chance he could recharge it on his own. The night of the explosion, he’d drawn the dark energy himself—sure, he’d done it unwittingly and caused the blast, but he remembered the sudden rush, the intoxicating surge that had overfilled him and triggered the explosion. If he could learn to control that, to draw it in without losing himself to it, he might refill his reservoir whenever he needed.

  How powerful would he become then?

  Adam kept all of this to himself…

  He didn’t share his working theory with Elsa, not the details of the volcano model, not the slow refill time, nothing at all. He trusted her more than he did anyone else in this world; he’d grown genuinely attached to her, even come to like her in ways that surprised him. But trust had limits, revealing too much about his power was dangerous. It felt like handing over a map to his vulnerabilities. It was shitty to withhold from someone who was risking her own beliefs to help him, but self-preservation always came first.

  Some secrets, especially those tied to weakness, had to stay hidden a while longer.

  “No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Not really.”

  “I see, you probably have deep energy wells,” Elsa said. “But I’d prefer not to take any chances. You should rest for now, then we’ll do some sword practice before leaving.”

  Energy wells, that’s what they called them. But he was sticking with his fuel tank analogy, it was easier for him to visualize, and it already felt natural.

  She gestured to a shaded spot beneath a tall tree and they walked together towards it before settling side by side on a cracked stone bench just beyond the sand yard.

  Adam wiped sweat from his brow and let out a sigh, then he glanced at Elsa. “Thank you for doing this, really,” he said. “I know you have a lot of other stuff to deal with.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” she replied warmly. “There was a bit of selfishness in my agreeing to this. I just didn’t want to keep worrying about you so much.”

  Elsa smiled as she uttered the words, and Adam caught himself staring as she tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. Then he cleared his throat and looked forward.

  “Am I that much of a problem?” He asked, raising his brow playfully.

  She stared at him, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Adam, surely you’re joking?” she voiced. “You’ve been attacked in an alley, injured in a raid, kidnapped, and tortured, all within a matter of weeks. If this keeps up, my hair will turn white hair before long.”

  Adam enjoyed the light banter between them, and he smiled.

  Their relationship had really shifted since that day at the stable, it was like the secrets he kept had been a wall standing between them, and with it out of the way now, they could actually start to know each other, really know each other. He could already see more of her personality shining through. She wasn’t only the serious, dutiful knight who fought against evil and buried her emotions; she could actually be witty, even playful.

  “I’ll try to keep that from happening,” he responded easily.

  A light chuckle squeezed out of her. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it,” she replied.

  The warmth of the moment faded after some time and more serious thoughts began to surface. “Can I ask you a question?” Adam asked and glanced at Elsa, then she gave a nod for him to proceed. “What’s demon magic like? I heard they exist here?”

  It was a question he had been debating with himself, and since she hadn’t made any remark about it, he wondered whether she simply didn’t want to acknowledge it, or whether there was no similarity at all. He leaned toward the latter, but needed confirmation.

  “Demons don’t exist in your world?” Elsa asked.

  “No, not like they do here at least,” Adam said, then he realized he’d told her nothing about his world. “I can tell you more about my world if you want to know.”

  She said nothing for a while, just stared at him in surprise, then she smiled softly. “I’d like that,” she said finally. “But to answer your question first, demon magic is no different from any other magic on the continent. Are you asking because of your magic?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Yeah, its strange, you’ve even called it unsettling.”

  “True, your magic is strange and unusual, but it’s not demonic,” she said. “Demons are blessed by the Divine, just like everyone else. Their power draws on mana.”

  “I thought they didn’t worship the Divine?”

  “They don’t, they’re like rebellious children, but they are still of the Divine, even if they reject it,” Elsa explained, her tone tinged with a slight annoyance.

  “Aren’t the Divine… good?” he asked slowly.

  Elsa fell quiet for a long moment, as if contemplating how to explain something vast and impersonal, then she released a deep, heavy breath before speaking.

  “Adam,” she began in a softer voice. “The Divine are neither good nor evil… they simply are. They are the source of everything in this world. Light cannot exist without darkness, and peace cannot be treasured without war. All things, even those that seem opposed, are part of their design. The Divine work in ways beyond our understanding. Just as there is Thalonis, goddess of beauty and love, there is Agnis, god of fire and war. They maintain a balance… and we—human, elf, demon—are a part of that balance.”

  Adam frowned as the information sank into his mind. He had always assumed that demons were spawned by some opposing force, specifically by Zelphyr, the primordial that they revered. But from what he’d just heard, demons were simply wayward children of the same Divine who chose to rebel against them and worship another entity.

  His earlier suspicion, the one he’d quietly nursed ever since feeling that vast, ancient presence brush against his consciousness, slowly hardened in his mind. He’d denied the idea on the basis that he wasn’t a demon, but if the primordial had no inherent tie to demons beyond the one-sided worship, then his strongest defense broke. The entity that had dragged him across worlds, that had pulled him back from death, that had given him this power—

  It could be Zelphyr, god of darkness… a primordial.

  Adam understood why Elsa wasn’t even considering the possibility that a primordial might have blessed him. To her, it was like believing the oldest entity in existence—one that had birthed her very gods, a being no one had ever known, that many probably considered myth—had personally chosen him, out of all other creation. The idea was so far beyond the boundaries of what she deemed possible that it never even crossed her mind. It was just too impossible to consider that believing he was from another world was easier.

  Adam sat up straighter and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Why did they turn away from the Divine and choose to follow a primordial?” he asked slowly.

  “I don’t know,” Elsa replied “Almost nothing is known about the primordials, only that the Divine were born from them. Our world began when they retreated from it.”

  “What about the Dark Lord?” Adam asked her. He wondered if he was the demons’ version of a prophet, or a savior, like the figures some religions on Earth revered.

  “Not much is known about him either,” Elsa replied. “The church keeps a lot of his records sealed, but from what little is known, he was just like any other demon.”

  The church, always the church. Adam weighed the idea of bumping his investigation into them to the top of his priority list, ahead of even Julius. But the hatred in his heart, and his burning thirst for revenge wouldn’t allow him to accept the idea. Still, every thread he tugged—primordials, the Dark Lord, resurrection—it all led straight back to the church.

  “I don’t think there’s ever been anything like you in this world, Adam.”

  Adam sighed. He didn’t know what to say, and just decided to be quiet. The moment of silence stretched a while as they both retreated into their thoughts, then Elsa broke it.

  “Adam, do you worship the Divine in your world?” she asked.

  He shook his head slowly. “No… where I’m from, people had their beliefs, but I’d never heard of the Divine before I came here. Honestly, I never really thought about gods much,” he responded carefully, wondering how she would react to his words.

  “I see,” she said, and after a brief moment, she continued, her voice quiet. “Still, I like to think your being here is the will of the Divine… that they opened a door between worlds and guided you through it, for reasons known only to them.”

  That was a convenient theory, and it was probably more to set her mind at ease than anything. But there was no point countering it and telling her what he really suspected.

  “I guess that’s better than having no answers at all,” he said.

  Elsa rose from the bench with a sigh. “Have you rested enough? Then let’s move on to the sword. I’m curious if you’ll take to it as quickly as you did magic.”

  Adam pushed himself up to his feet as she disappeared into the villa, and when she returned a moment later, she had two wooden swords in her hands. She handed him one of them, and as before, she positioned him across from her on the sand and told him to attack.

  “Again?” he asked with a lifted brow.

  She gave a nod. “I need to know your base level first. If you’ve never held a sword, instructions won’t help. You need to get a feel for it first, so the lessons actually stick.”

  “Makes sense,” Adam said and nodded. “Will it be painful?”

  It was a valid question, there was absolutely no way he was touching her. He’d never wielded a sword before today, and she was a Gold-Rank knight, even if she held back, the chance that he would end up on his ass were still astronomical.

  Elsa gave a playful smile. “Maybe a little,” she responded. “Think of it as a learning experience. Better some bruises now, than a stab wound later.”

  Adam let out a breath and his heart pounded with a mix of doubt and adrenaline. He had asked her for this, he wanted to learn how to use a sword, but he was still hesitant about accepting the pain that would come with learning. Sure, he had gotten a lot stronger, even ignoring his magic—he’d tested his strength after what he’d discovered about himself back at Lorelei’s home, lifting and hauling things he never could have before, and the newfound strength was definitely real—but that didn’t make him any more eager to fight her.

  Fuck it… he thought and charged at her.

  Something unexpected happened then—something that surprised him. It took only three steps to close the gap. The distance between them should have required at least six or seven strides, but the world just seemed to fade, and suddenly he was standing right in front of her. The speed was so surprising that he didn’t even have time to swing his sword. But suddenly, a sharp pain exploded across his side as Elsa moved like a blur, her own practice sword whipping out to slam against his ribs with force. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him rolling across the sand until he lost momentum and stopped.

  Adam just lay there for a while, groaning, one hand clutching his side as he tried to breathe and recover from the hit. What the fuck? Why had she hit him that hard?

  “Adam, are you alright?” Elsa asked worriedly as she approached him.

  He couldn’t speak, he just gave a weak thumbs up.

  “Good, now what was that? You just ran straight at me without swinging,” Elsa said, her tone almost amused as she stood over him, resting her sword lightly on her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” Adam wheezed. “I was just surprised by how fast I moved.”

  “You were moving fast?” She arched an eyebrow, curiosity on her face.

  “It might not seem impressive to you, but a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t move anywhere near that quick,” he responded and pushed himself up on one elbow.

  Elsa crouched beside him, still wearing that curious look on her face. “The night of the explosion, you said you were moving faster then too. Like this?” she asked.

  Adam sat up fully and winced as his ribs protested. His thoughts drifted back to the night of the explosion, to the moment he’d blocked that knight who had tried to escape. It hadn’t felt like running, he hadn’t even decided to move. There had barely been a thought at all—just the faintest intention—and suddenly he was there. It was less like speed and more like teleportation. It was obvious now that what had happened that night had deeper effects, unlocking both magical and physical abilities he never knew he possessed.

  “No,” he answered and met her gaze. “It was faster. Much faster.”

  “I see.” Elsa stood and offered a hand to help him up. “Then we’ll have to teach you how to draw it out again. Everything that night gave you, you need to learn to control it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said as he came up to his feet.

  He focused back on the training and dusted the sand off his pants, moving to retrieve his wooden sword. His side still throbbed, but it wasn’t unbearable. But if she continued to hit him that hard, he probably wouldn’t last long. Elsa stepped back to her original position, her wooden sword lowered but ready, and her green eyes steady on him.

  “Let’s try that again,” she said, her voice softer now, more encouraging. “This time, focus on your grip. Make sure it’s firm, but not rigid. If you tense up too much, it’ll fly out of your hands the moment I parry. Also…” She paused and shot him a wry look. “Try to swing your sword this time. Don’t just run at me like a charging bull.”

  Adam nodded. “Got it,” he murmured.

  He readied himself, and with a deep breath, he lunged, this time unsurprised by his speed and actually remembering to swing his sword. But it didn’t change the outcome. She parried his attack almost effortlessly, disarming him with a twist he didn’t understand, and then tapped her wooden sword against his thigh, firm enough to sting, but nothing like the rib-cracking blow from earlier. Still, his right leg buckled from the impact, and he stumbled forward, the tip of his sword digging into the sand as he caught his balance.

  “That was better,” she said. “Try again.”

  They reset again, and he attacked. Nothing changed. The next nine exchanges were almost identical; Adam charged, swung wildly or too slowly, and ended up disarmed, the wooden sword spinning out of his grip and landing somewhere in the sand while he fell on his ass or dropped to his knees. Each time, Elsa’s counter was too fast, he could barely see it, but thankfully it never had too much force, just enough to make the point without hurting him. No broken ribs, no wind knocked out of him. Just quick, humiliating defeats.

  By the tenth attempt, Adam was breathing harder, covered in sweat. But he was still relatively free of pain, and that made him realize something. That first strike she’d landed had been brutal, lifting him off the ground like a rag-doll. But the rest? She disarmed him, tripped him, gave him a light tap where he was open, and each time coaching him on what he did wrong. It was gentle compared to the first time, putting him down without any real harm. She wasn’t trying to hurt him; that first blow had been deliberate, a taste of real pain so he would understand she was serious with him and try his hardest to avoid getting hit like that again. It had also been a test. If he had quit after just one hit, she would have taken it as him sparing her the trouble of wasting her time. It was certainly a roundabout way of doing things, but then again, she had warned him that she was a stern teacher.

  “Watch my entire body, Adam, not just the blade,” she said. “Your magic will likely give you an advantage against anyone in this world, but any decent opponent will recognize that quickly and refuse to engage at distance. They’ll charge you, force it into close combat. Your sword work is going to be the skill that keeps you alive more often than your magic.”

  The next ten attempts went much better. He stopped dropping his sword every time, and his footing improved; he remembered to keep his weight centered instead of lunging too far. When Elsa’s blade came, he barely managed to parry twice before she slipped past his guard and tapped his shoulder or chest, sending him staggering but not falling. By the twenty-first exchange, he was able to stay on his feet entirely.

  As attempts continued to pile up, his arms began to burn, and his lungs heaved with creeping exhaustion, but something was steadily shifting inside of him. The movements no longer felt completely foreign. When he raised the sword to block or parry, his hands found the right position without thinking, and when he stepped sideways to avoid her thrust, his body seemed to know the distance before his mind even calculated it.

  Then around their thirtieth exchange, that was when it truly clicked. He evaded three strikes in a row—one high, one low, one to the ribs—and he actually forced her to readjust her stance once when one of his swings came closer than before. The wooden blades echoed with a sharp crack as they clashed together, no longer just her correcting him but something resembling an actual sword fight. He still couldn’t touch her—every time he overextended even slightly, her blade was there to punish the mistake—but he was lasting longer, moving smoother. It felt as though his instinct was sharper now, his muscles looser; as if his body had done this before, long ago, and was finally starting to wake up.

  On the thirty-first exchange, he actually managed to surprise her, not through his skills alone, but also through luck and cheating. He parried her first swing, then deliberately let his sword slip from his fingers. Elsa knew the swing hadn’t come with force, and that slight pause was his opening. Before she knew what to expect, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist in a full tackle and driving them both to the ground. It wasn’t a hard fall, and he suspected she might have even let it happen despite being surprised.

  Adam ended up on top of her, his face close to hers and his arms braced beside her head, both of them panting, whether from the fall or something else, he wasn’t too sure.

  “You cheated,” Elsa said at last, a soft smile forming on her lips.

  Adam grinned down at her. “I had to get at least one win.”

  “You would have gotten a fair victory eventually, you improve quickly, too quickly in fact, and that’s not normal. But after everything else I’ve learned about you, I can’t say it’s too surprising, It seems you’re gifted in both magic and combat…” she paused, still retaining that soft smile on her face. “Even if you do rely on dirty tricks to win.”

  Adam knew that “eventually” wouldn’t be anytime soon, and the “fair” victory she spoke of was him facing her while she used less than a quarter of her strength. In an actual contest, he was still far from her level, and he didn’t think he would be getting close soon.

  He shrugged. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” he said in response.

  “I supposed it did,” she murmured slowly.

  They stayed like that a while longer, their breaths mingling in the quiet as they stared at each other. As the rush of training faded, awareness of how close they were, of how his hip rested between her thighs, slowly crept in. Still, neither of them seemed in any hurry to separate, let alone move. They just continued to breathe, holding each other’s gaze. The moment stretched, and Adam’s awareness of the heat between her thighs deepened, his body slowly responding as desire mounted and his length hardened against her. She felt it and blushed.

  Without thinking, he lifted a hand toward her flushed cheek.

  Elsa’s breath hitched and the blush spread. “Adam…” she whispered, her voice trembling before fading off as if not knowing what she wanted to say.

  “I need to know…” he began quietly, his voice barely steady. “All the times you’ve helped me, looked out for me… is it just kindness? Or is there something more?” he asked directly this time, needing the certainty he so desperately craved.

  Elsa’s eyes darted away, and her throat tightened as she swallowed. Adam stared at her, utterly stunned. This was a Gold-Rank knight, he’d seen her composure remain steady even when they’d been caught in a trap and surrounded on all sides, he’d seen her cut down enemies without so much as a blink, but now her cheeks burned almost as red as her hair while she tried to hide from him; her lips trembled, and her heart pounded against his.

  Her nervousness, strangely, made him feel calmer.

  “There’s… more,” she breathed at last, the words barely escaping.

  Adam felt his heart loosen. He wanted to kiss her immediately, more than he’d ever wanted anything in this life, but despite the lust filling his mind, he knew that he shouldn’t, not right now at least. Even if she allowed it to happen, he sensed she would feel deep guilt and shame about it afterwards, given that she assumed he and Katryn were together. Trust meant a lot to her, knowing she’d crossed that line with someone she believed belonged to another would eat away at her conscience, and it might even taint how she saw him. For anything to happen between them, her assumption needed to be corrected.

  And he’d decided that only Katryn herself could do that.

  “…But it doesn’t matter,” Elsa continued softly and forced her eyes back to his as she began to shift beneath him. “You’re with Katryn now. We shouldn’t… we can’t.”

  Adam eased his weight off her and settled onto the ground beside her. “I think you should talk to her, to Katryn,” he advised gently, not wanting to pressure her.

  Elsa sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “And what would that change?” she asked.

  If only she knew what Katryn wanted…

  He shrugged. “You’d be surprised,” he replied. “There’s a lot she wants to talk to you about, you can’t just avoid her for the rest of your life.”

  She released a deep breath. “I know, but it’s been hard to face her.”

  “Just hear her out, that’s all I’m asking.”

  With a sigh, she glanced at him and nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Adam drew a slow breath and dropped his gaze to the ground. “There’s… something else you should know before you talk to Katryn,” he muttered hesitantly.

  Elsa stilled. “Something else?”

  His jaw tightened. This was always difficult, but he’d decided to be honest with all the women that entered his life, no matter where it led. “It’s not just Katryn,” he said quietly to her. “There’s someone else, the woman I was trying to help… Lorelei.”

  A surprised look entered her face, but she quickly smoothed it over. She said nothing for a long moment, just staring at something invisible in the ground. The warmth that had lingered between them had faded away, now replaced by something cooler, heavier.

  “And Katryn, this woman… they’re just fine with it?”

  Adam hesitated as he searched for the right words. He’d told Lorelei already and she’d accepted it, but he hadn’t brought it up with Katryn yet. Still, he was certain she wouldn’t mind; hell, she was the one who’d brought the idea. She’d probably tease him about it, but no more than that, as long as she had Elsa she wouldn’t care too much.

  “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “They’re fine with it.”

  She fell silent again, her eyes locked on the same spot on the ground as if it held the answers she was searching for. Then, with a sharp, involuntary exhale, she flicked her gaze upward, just long enough for him to catch the hint of restrained turmoil in her eyes.

  “I see,” she murmured and rose to her feet while carefully avoiding his stare. “I need some time… to think.” Her voice remained steady, almost too even. Then she brushed the sand from her trousers, turning away to leave. “That’s probably enough practice for today.”

  “Yeah,” Adam muttered to himself.

  *******