Marked Twice by the Alpha King

Ava's POV

The training grounds stretched before us, a circular arena surrounded by ancient pines. Morning sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled patterns across the stone floor. Various weapons hung on racks along the perimeter- practice swords, wooden staves, and training daggers sized for both adults and childdren.

Lucas bounced on his toes in the center of the circle, eyes bright with excitement. "What are we starting with? Claw techniques? Defensive maneuvers?"

I set my bag down carefully, making sure the scroll was secure and out of sight. "We're starting with the foundation."

His face fell. "That sounds boring."

"The most powerful techniques build on the simplest foundations," I replied, pulling a small leather pouch from my training bag. "Your father mastered these basics before he became the fighter he is today."

Lucas's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his father. "Really?"

"Really, I confirmed, opening the pouch to reveal a handful of small river stones, polished and flat. "Balance, focus, and awareness-the three pillars of combat mastery.

Wilson hovered at the edge of the training ground, watching with skeptical eyes. "I'll return in an hour to check on your progress. Try not to destroy any more property, Miss Rivers."

After he left, I turned my full attention to Lucas. "First exercise is simple." I placed one stone on the back of my hand, then flipped my palm with a quick motion, catching the stone before it fell. "Your turn."

Lucas tried, the stone immediately tumbling to the ground. He frowned and tried again, with the same result.

"This is stupid," he muttered after his fifth attempt. "How is this going to help me fight?"

“Combat isn't just about strength, I explained, demonstrating the move again. “It's about precision. Timing. Being exactly where you need to be, exactly when you need to be there."

He tried again, his small jaw set with determination. The stone wobbled but stayed balanced a fraction of a second longer.

"Better," I encouraged. "Again."

We continued like this for nearly half an hour, Lucas growing more focused with each attempt. His frustration gradually gave way to concentration as he began to understand the purpose of the exercise.

"Got it!" he exclaimed as he successfully flipped and caught the stone for the first time. His face lit up with genuine pride.

"Weil done," I smiled. "Now let's make it harder." I placed the stone on the back of his hand again. "This time, I want you to walk the perimeter of the circle while maintaining balance."

Lucas's brow furrowed in concentration as he took careful steps, eyes fixed on the stone perched on his hand. He made it halfway around before the stone slipped, but I caught it before it hit the ground.

"Good first attempt," I said. "What did you notice?'

He thought for a moment. "It's harder to keep balanced while moving."

'Exactly. In a real fight, you're never standing still. You need to maintain awareness and control while in motion."

For the next hour, we progressed through variations of the stone exercise- balancing while moving, adding a second stone, changing speeds. Lucas approached each challenge with growing confidence, his competitive nature driving him to master each level.

"impressive progress,” I noted when he successfully balanced two stones while completing a full circuit of the training ground. "Most students take days to get this far

Lucas beamed with pride, his earlier tantrum forgotten "What's next?'

"Defensive stance work," I replied, putting the stones away. The foundation of all combat techniques."

I demonstrated a basic defensive position-feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight centered. "This stance gives you stability while allowing quick movement in any direction."

Lucas mimicked my position, remarkably precise for his age. I made small adjustments to his form, careful not to overwhelm him with too many details at

once.

"Good, I nodded. 'Now, I'm going to push against your shoulders. Try to maintain your position."

I applied gentle pressure, and Lucas resisted surprisingly well, his small frame holding firm against my push.

"Excellent balance, I praised. "Now let's add movement."

I taught him how to shift from defensive to offensive stances, emphasizing smooth transitions rather than speed. Despite his eagerness to learn flashier techniques, Lucas followed my instructions with growing respect, sensing the value in these foundations.

As we worked, I caught glimpses of his natural talent. His reflexes were exceptionally quick, and he possessed an intuitive understanding of body mechanics rare in someone so young. No wonder Blake was concerned about his early shifting-this kid had raw potential that could easily spiral out of control without proper guidance.

"Miss Rivers, Wilson's voice interrupted our session. "Master Lucas has mathematics lessons scheduled now."

Lucas groaned loudly. "But we just got to the good part!"

I gathered our training gear, tucking everything back into my bag. “Wilson's right.

Learning comes in many forms, Lucas."

"But this is way more important than stupid math, he protested.

'Actually, mathematics is essential for combat," I countered. "Every move I showed you today involves calculating angles, distance, and timing-all math."

Lucas looked skeptical, but less resistant. "Really?"

"Absolutely. The best warriors understand geometry better than anyone. How else would you calculate the perfect angle for a defensive counter?"

He considered this, then sighed in resignation. 'Fine. But we'll continue tomorrow, right?"

"Same time, same place, I promised.

As Wilson prepared to lead Lucas away, the boy hesitated. "You'll come back tomorrow? You won't quit like the others?"

The vulnerability in his question caught me off guard. Beneath the bravado and defiance was just a kid afraid of being abandoned again.

"I'll be here, I assured him.

"Miss Rivers passed your little test admirably," Wilson said to Lucas, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Unlike your previous instructors."noveldrama

Lucas s expression brightened suddenly. He looked at me with hopeful eyes, then blurted out:

"Will you stay for dinner tonight? Please? Dad's not coming home until late, and I hate eating alone."

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