Page 77 of Her Cruel Redemption

‘What if I don’t like what I find?’ The words slipped out before I could stop them, barely more than a whisper.

‘That’s not the question you should be asking.’

‘Then what is?’

‘What if it likesyou?’

A tremor ran through me. I released a deep, shuddering breath.

The magic inside meexhaled.

It didn’t explode outward in defiance. It didn’t tear at me, wild and unbound. It simplyflowed.

I gasped as the world shifted. I could feel it all—the breath in my lungs, the power in my veins, the pulse of the storm above me. I wasn’ttakingfrom it. I wasn’tforcingit to obey.

I was part of it. And for the first time, it was part of me.

‘Now try again,’ Daethie said. I summoned magic, feeling the pulsing heat of it in my hand, and flung it towards the same knot of the tree.

It missed.Again.Arcing out into the sky this time, so at least it didn’t strike something it shouldn’t have. My head pounded a little harder as it receded, and my shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe if I try and aim at our forces I might manage to strike the enemy.’

‘You’re not ready to wield magic in a battle,’ she said, rising to her feet with supple grace. ‘And you shouldn’t push yourself. I’m going back to the healing tent now, but you should stay and sit with your feelings. Try naming them and understanding them. It’ll get easier. Especially if you do it every day.’

I waited for her to dip out of sight before getting to my feet with a huff of disgust. Sitting with my feelings wasn’t going to help me prepare for a battle. And even if Daethie’s suggestion would help, it felt like the sort of progress that would take a long time to manifest. Lightning flickered in the distance, a low growl of thunder rolling over the hills. I stared up at the storm, at the restless churn of clouds, and clenched my fists.

I didn'thavetime.

And I didn’t want to name my feelings. Those were better left alone.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ibarely felt the blow, my body moving on instinct as I twisted away from the follow-up strike. My opponent—one of my officers, younger, faster—pressed forward, fists flying in rapid succession. I absorbed one hit against my ribs, let another glance off my shoulder, then struck back.

My punch connected with the man’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered but didn’t fall. Good. A soldier who stayed down after one hit wasn’t worth my time.

We circled each other, bare feet scuffing against the stone floor. The chamber was wide, its high ceilings and torch-lit walls turning every breath, every movement into something that felt larger and more sinister. The air smelled of sweat, warm and sharp. I relished it. I preferred the certainty of combat, the rawness of it, over words whispered in dark halls. Always had. In the sparring ring or in one of my father’s trials, hostility could finally be answered with force, and then it didn’t matter what my lineage was or how little favour I had with that gluttonous tyrant. It only mattered that I could take a hit better, could think faster, could keep getting back to my feet longer than any of my brothers.

Fighting now staved off the tremors of terror and helplessness that kept creeping up to remind me of what I’d endured last time I’d been in this fucking castle.

My opponent feinted left, aiming low, but I saw the trick before he even committed to it. I stepped in, too fast for the other man to react, and drove my fist into his gut. He let out a strangled sound, doubling over, but I wasn’t finished. I grabbed the man’s arm and wrenched it behind his back, forcing him onto his knees.

‘Dead,’ the I murmured, voice edged with satisfaction.

He gasped for breath and gave a short, pained nod. ‘A clean kill.’

I released him, stepping back and rolling my shoulders. There was always something to be gained from testing my limits, from feeling the way my body moved, sharp and controlled. But this had been only a warmup, and I wasn’t winded yet. I was about to call for another round when the doors burst open and Lester strode in. I straightened, immediately picking up his disquiet, washing over me in jabs of frantic energy as I shook out my hands.

‘How did I know I’d find you here?’ he said, remaining poised on the threshold.

‘Because you always find me here. What’s wrong?’

‘There’s an army knocking on our door,’ he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

‘Have you engaged them?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

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