Page 126 of Where Darkness Falls

Riordan throws his hands up, slowly backing away. “I don’t think Mae-Mae will be able to handle it if I’m first,” he teases.

“Oh, I don’t know… I did promise my fists an introduction to your face,” she jests. “Why don’t you come say hello?”

“Ahh, but it’s more entertaining when I play hard to get,” he says with a devilish smirk.

Holy Celestae, what monstrosity is she turning our training time into?

“That’s it! You’re up first, Riordan. Virgil, you can sit this one out until the next hour,” I command.

Virgil smirks as he punches Riordan’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he whispers.

Riordan murmurs under his breath, taking up his stance on the opposite side of Maeva, who looks far too eager for this joust.

I clap my hands once.

“Let’s begin.”

“I must say,”Emyr says, interrupting my labored breathing, “you’re improving with each day of training.”

Training…

I think torture is the more accurate description of what I’ve struggled to survive the last five hours.

The running is bad enough without adding in the arm numbing jousting against every member of the Cadre, except Emyr. What makes it worse is that they don’t even look slightly phased by the running or sparring. They still look every bit the beautiful specimens that they are, while I look like a half-drowned bramble mouse.

Was their training for the army worse than this?

If it’s more tortuous than this, their titles are well-deserved because I would’ve cut my losses and fled.

Holy Celestae, why do I still feel like I’m dying?

My entire body is being consumed by a roaring fire, while my lungs fight for oxygen against its suffocating flames.

If the Abyss is worse than enduring this… I’m not going to survive.

“Will… it… be… enough… for… Zulgalros?” I wheeze out.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Perhaps, Rosey,” he replies. “It’ll at least be an improvement.”

I scowl at the hulking specimen of a man. Frankly, I’m ready to tell him just where he can shove that “Perhaps, Rosey” and stupid shrug of his. He’s actually enjoying my suffering.

I look at the three other men, and find that they too are trying to contain their amused smiles.

I wipe sweat from my eyes.

Bloody Galrosans.

“You truly are despicable,” I quip.

Riordan tsks. “I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, my valiant High General and members of the Cadre,’” he says, the last part in a pitch meant to mimic a feminine voice.

I groan as I sit on the ground. “May the Abyss claim you,” I curse.

His laughter echoes around the courtyard. I growl at the infuriating man, which only causes his howls to increase in pitch.

“That’s enough,” Emyr commands, silencing Riordan immediately. Emyr motions for me to follow him. “You’re sparring with me next, then we’ll move into ability training,” he says nonchalantly.

Of course, the first time he decides to spar with me is when I’m the most exhausted I’ve been in the last week. I believe his true talent is actually torture in all forms: jousting, running, ability training… the way his skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat—definitely a form of cruel punishment of its own merit. “Oh, how dandy,” I murmur under my breath.

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