Page 83 of Cages and Crowns
“Don’t call me that!”
“Okay, little witch.” He says with a smile.
“That’s not any better.”
“Pick one.” He challenges.
“How about, Elaenor? My name?” I snap.
“Mm, no I don’t like it. I think I’ll stick with Rosie or little witch.” He laughs and takes another sip of Scarlett’s coffee.
“I hate you.” I mutter as I open the door and step into the hall. It takes a few moments and a lot of turns before I find the sparring room on the other side of the palace. A part I hadn’t yet explored.
The back wall is gone, leaving the room completely open to the outside. Weights line one wall, and a raised platform sits by the other side. The rest of the room is completely empty. Enzo is on the platform, punching the air. He looks over at me as I step up, his brows raised.
“What’s up?” He drops his arms and walks over to me. There is a light bruise along his jaw, and I swallow the bile in my throat.
“I’m glad to see you’re okay.” I smile and he looks away.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Elaenor.” His voice is rough, and I don’t push it. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to train.” He smiles as if I am joking. “I’m serious.” He’s silent for a moment, before he holds his hand out, helping me up onto the platform.
“Do everything I say, alright?” I nod. He puts his hands on my hips, twisting slightly. One of his feet comes around and kicks my left one forward. “Arms up.” I raise my arms, my fists clenched, and he arranges them at an angle.
He holds his hands out and gestures for me to punch, so I do. My knuckles pop and I wince at the contact.
“You are weak.” He says flatly.
“No shit.” I mutter, throwing my fist through the air again.
“You’re small, unstable. You won’t win in hand-to-hand combat; you should be training your magic.” He drops his hands while my hand is flying through the air. I hit his chest, and he doesn’t even flinch. A ghost of a smile passes his face. “See?”
“I want to be able to protect myself.” I say softly, my brows furrowing. He takes a long deep breath before raising his hands again. I spend the next hour punching his hands, kicking where he instructs, and attempting to free myself from his grip, which I failed at.
I failed at all of it.
By the time we are finished, I am sweating and exhausted. My leg is cramping, as is my neck. No doubt my injuries I seem to keep forgetting I have. I collapse onto the sparring mat and Enzo sits down next to me. I feel nauseous, but not as bad as last night. Instinctively, my hand rests on my stomach.
“You aren’t that bad, but you need a lot of practice if you want to be able to defend yourself.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He chuckles.“I want to be able to fight. I want to beuseful.”
“You are useful; you are our queen.”
“I want to be more than a figurehead, Enzo.” He’s quiet for a moment, before the clearing of a throat causes me to jump.
“Come on, little witch. We have things to do.” I sit up and see Nithe standing there, looking stupidly perfect.His tunic is tight, showing off his sculpted chest and I force my eyes to stay on his face.
“What?”
“Hurry up.” He snaps and I roll my eyes. I dangle my legs off the raised platform, that can’t be more than three feet high, and prepare to jump down, but Nithe’s hands grip my waist and lift me. I put my hands on his shoulders as he lowers me to the floor, our chests brushing. He wipes a piece of sweaty hair off my forehead and then steps back and holds his arm out for me to pass him.
“Where are we going?”
“You need rest.” I stop as soon as we get out into the hallway and spin around.
“Are you serious?” I spit, as I rise up on my tiptoes.
