Page 42 of A Broken Promise

My body was becoming a well-oiled machine.

My soul might be cracked in pieces, but my body was now my armor.

I looked in the mirror across from me, staring at a figure of a woman so different from how I remembered myself; so different from the previously starved, slave girl. My face was much rounder, my previously sharp cheekbones now smooth and soft; my thin arms were now thicker with a solid layer of fat and muscle going through them—no more bony arms and shoulders poking through my shirt. My legs and hips now were muscled and curved. My no-longer-slim figure now had a hint of femininity to it.

Priya entered dressed in her work-out clothes a minute later, her hair styled neatly in two thick braids with curls poking out on the ends.

“Ready?” she asked, winking at me. I chuckled. It was never agood sign that Priya was deviously smiling at me before sparring. She was going to kick my butt and she was excited for it. But I taunted her back.

“Bring it on.”

We sparred for a while, Priya correcting my moves, knocking the breath out of me with each of her steps. She moved so gracefully. Each move was a calculated motion with a deliberate goal behind it. Even if I managed to throw a move past her guard, she always managed to get me back.

“You miss because you are gloating half the time,” she said while we were getting a drink. “You need to stop being so surprised each time you land a blow.”

She took another sip.

“You need to be more confident. Feel entitled to it.”

“Entitled to break someone’s nose?” I raised my brows at her in amusement.

“Yes, Freckles, entitled to break their nose, smash their balls or tits and make their life a crying hell until they quit it. You are entitled to all of that, so act like it,” she grudged back.

I never felt entitled to anything in my life. Tuluma made it perfectly clear that it was by the grace of gods I was still alive and since I washuman filth,I was nothing—entitled to nothing. As a kid, I might have tried to defy that, but Fate had a way to show the truth of that statement.

“It’s hard for me to feel that way.” I laid the truth barren.

“Well, figure that stuff out, Freckles. Life will keep taking from you until you stop giving to it. You will never succeed if you don’t think you deserve it.” She took another sip of water. “So, when you smash my guts next time, remember you earned it, you deserve it, and you keep going until I am dead.” She wiped a few drops of sweat off her brow, both of us burning red from the heat. “You are entitled to feel good in this life, to enjoy it fully. To say, fuck you Fate, I am in charge now.”

That primal, wild part of me roared in agreement with her. I hadgiven up so much with nothing in return, small slivers of happiness and joy ripped from me after only a glimpse.

But how could I ever feel content and happy knowing that while I lounged and ate my weight in divine food each day, slaves were dying, and people were starving?

In the twisted works of Fate, I was here and not with Viyak. I was alive and well, even after I encountered and escaped the Destroyers, the Royals, the Kahors; and I was now training to become an assassin.

I was grateful and humbled to be lucky enough to be free; to be able to run in the mornings and never stop; to be able to sleep in comfort and never worry where my next meal would be; to be able to stroll down to the market and shops and spend money that I now had.

I couldn’t say fuck you all. Not when I believed that most of it was not from my well doing but a twist of luck—a generous gift of Fate.

“Ugh, you are getting lost in your depressing thoughts again,” Priya whined, rolling her eyes. “Let me know when you are done ‘pondering’ and ready to actually do shit.”

She walked down to the large table in the armory. Walls surrounding it were covered in all manner of weapons, starting with small daggers and knives, cross bows of all kinds, axes, swords, bows, and arrows. The armory had it all.

Across the large table was the target wall, covered with a very thick material, in all matter of scars, damaged from so many ruthless practices.

“I wasn’t lost,” I countered. “I was just thinking that I can’t say ‘Fuck you, Fate’ when it was her that brought me to you,” I said, picking up a medium-sized crossbow and loading it with thick arrows.

“You are giving a dead Goddess too much credit,” Priya said, throwing a knife straight into the bullseye.

“But...” I started, but Priya didn’t let me finish.

“The way I remember it, it was you who planned the escape, you who fought the soldier, you who were swimming in the cold river. It was you who survived slavery. I don’t remember Fate doing anything there to help.”

“Yes, but...”

“Let’s also not forget that Fate was the one who put you in slavery to begin with.” I frowned. She chucked another knife into the male mannequin used as a practice target, launching it straight into his balls. “You are so eager to give Fate all the credit for the good, and yet pin anything bad as your fault. It’s really stupid.”

“It’s not that simple,” I opposed.

---