Astarotte swung her spear in a wide arc, sweat glistening across her brow, her tail twitching with every movement. Her emerald eyes were sharp, intense, fueled not by rage, but something deeper.
"Again!" shouted Oberyn.
She struck the dummy with renewed force, cracking the wooden target.
"Better," Serenil said quietly from the sidelines, arms folded. "But you're still reacting, not reading."
"I'm trying!" she barked, teeth grit. "I've been trying nonstop since last night!"
"And you'll continue to try," Oberyn said sternly. "Until your instincts speak before your words do."
Liselotte, Roanna, Piglette, Liselotte,Shuna, and even timid Piglette had come to watch her train. They stood nearby in silence, watching their fellow princess forge herself with raw will.
"She's growing," Roanna commented. "Emotion is her fire."
"She'll need more than emotion," Shuna added. "She'll need control."
Astarotte's spear wavered as she panted.
"I want to be strong enough…" she muttered between breaths, "to protect what's mine… and to be by his side. No matter how many princesses are placed beside him… I won't lose to a title."
"Then you already understand the path," Serenil said flatly. "Now walk it."
Astarotte wiped her brow. "I will. Just you wait, Serenil Croft. I'll become a queen worth standing beside."
Her voice was no longer desperate—it was decided.
Oberyn smiled faintly from behind his usual smirk.
"Not bad, succubus," he muttered. "Not bad at all."