We need to make sure you're properly fed

The first thing I did upon entering my room was fling myself onto the bed. The mattress, soft and welcoming, practically swallowed me whole. I let out a long sigh, stretching my arms and legs across the plush blankets. I had missed this room.

The scent of lavender from freshly washed sheets, the warm golden light spilling in through the tall windows, and the faint creak of the old wooden floor beneath my weight it was all so familiar and comforting.

"I forgot how comfortable this place was," I muttered to myself, running my fingers over the intricate embroidery on the pillowcase.

But as tempting as it was to stay there forever, the grime from weeks of training with Valeria clung to my skin. I peeled myself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, already envisioning the bliss of a long, hot shower.

The moment I stepped under the spray, the water cascaded down, washing away the dirt, sweat, and exhaustion of the past month.

I scrubbed my skin and hair vigorously, watching the suds swirl down the drain. The heat worked its magic, loosening muscles still sore from Valeria's brutal lessons.

Leaning against the tiled wall, I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I survived, I thought. Somehow, I survived.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, my reflection in the mirror caught me off guard.

My hair, still damp, clung to my face and shoulders, longer than it had been when I left. My body, too, had changed leaner, with faint hints of muscle where there had been none before.

"Not bad," I said with a small grin, though my stomach grumbled in protest, reminding me I hadn't eaten all day.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a loose tunic and comfortable pants, and made my way to the dining room.

The sound of clinking dishes and chatter grew louder as I approached, and I could already smell the feast waiting for me.

The dining room was a sight to behold. The long table was covered in an array of dishes, each more extravagant than the last.

Roasted meats, steaming bowls of soup, fresh-baked bread, salads with vibrant greens, and desserts that looked almost too perfect to eat.

My parents were already seated, with Galen across from them, looking as stoic as ever. Carlos had somehow found his way to a chair at the far end of the table, how the heck did he even get here that was a question I would ask later.

And why does no one ask about him. Elira just lounged lazily next to him, clearly enjoying herself.

"Ah, there she is!" my mother exclaimed the moment I entered. She motioned to the seat next to her, her face lighting up with excitement. "Come, sit, darling. You must be starving."

I hesitated, eyeing the mountain of food before me. "Uh... this is a lot," I said cautiously, sliding into the seat.

"Nonsense!" my father boomed, his voice full of cheer. "You've been gone for so long; we need to make sure you're properly fed."

"But I don't need this much," I protested, gesturing to the table. "Really, I'm fine with just a small plate."

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her chest as if I'd just insulted her cooking. "A small plate? Ren, you've lost so much weight! Look at you—you're skin and bones!"

"I'm not—"

"She's right," Galen interrupted, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. "You look like you've been through a famine."

"I've been training!" I snapped, crossing my arms. "I'm supposed to look like this."

Carlos snickered from his corner of the table. "I think you're more worried about losing those fancy desserts than anything else."

"Shut it, Carlos," I shot back, glaring at him.

Elira chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos. "She does have a point. You could stand to eat a little more."

Before I could argue further, a servant appeared with a plate piled high with food and placed it in front of me. My stomach growled involuntarily at the sight, but the sheer quantity was overwhelming.

"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath.

"Eat up," my father commanded, pointing his fork at me.

With a resigned sigh, I picked up my fork and took a bite. The flavors were rich and familiar, a stark contrast to the simple meals I'd had during training. Despite myself, I couldn't help but enjoy it.

But my parents weren't satisfied.

"Have some of the roast," my mother urged, placing another helping on my plate.

"And don't forget the potatoes," my father added, piling those on as well.

Galen watched with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused by my predicament.

"I'm going to explode," I mumbled, trying to make room on my plate for yet another dish being thrust my way.

"You'll thank us later," my mother said firmly.

After a few more bites, I decided to change the subject. "So, I've learned how to use my magic properly now," I said casually, hoping to shift their attention.

That caught everyone's interest.

"Really?" my father said, his tone a mix of pride and curiosity.

My mother beamed. "Oh, that's wonderful, dear!"

Even Galen leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "How properly?"

"Completely properly," I replied, sitting up straighter. "I can control it now, no more accidental explosions or setting things on fire."

"Interesting," Galen said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

I didn't like that look.

"Let's fight then," he said, his tone far too casual.

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed his words.

"Wait, what?" I blurted out, staring at him in disbelief.

"You heard me," Galen said, his smirk widening. "If you're so confident in your magic, prove it."

Elira snickered. "Oh, this should be good."

Carlos leaned back in his chair, looking far too entertained. "I'd pay to see this."

"I didn't agree to anything!" I protested, looking between them.

Galen shrugged. "Are you scared?"

"No!" I shot back, though my stomach churned at the thought.

"Then it's settled," he said, standing up from the table. "We'll spar after lunch."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. What have I gotten myself into now?