Page 38 of Ensnared
“I didn’t get any training,” I say. “That’s why.”
“You think I did? The blessed have been here for less than two weeks, you idiot. No one trained me at all. I learned what I know from watching my master do it to me.”
“Mine hasn’t ever controlled me.”
Her jaw drops.
“I mean, he tells me what to do a lot, but otherwise.” I shrug.
A vein pops out on her forehead.
“Is that really so bad? I mean, it’s not like you should be proud of piloting other humans like they’re puppets.”
She stalks back toward me, her eyes flashing. “You think I want to do that? You think it’s fun for me to remove people’s free will?” Her voice practically snaps. “It was that or watch them die, you imbecile. I’m doing what I have to do, and the fact that you don’t have to—” She huffs. “You’re embarrassing. Do better.” The time, she pivots quickly and jogs away.
“Wait.” My voice is small, and I’m not even sure she’ll hear it.
She stops again, but she doesn’t turn around.
I have to force the words out, and they aren’t very emphatic, but at least I manage to say them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more grateful. I think I really do need your help.”
Her sigh is pronounced, but when she turns, she’s not smirking or scowling or even frowning. “You may be the least intuitive bright I’ve ever met, and there are hundreds of us.”
Speaking of hundreds. . . “Do you know all the other ensnared?”
She frowns. “I didn’t know any of them before, but now we’re shoved into doing the same things.”
“Right, but I heard that brights tend to run in families.”
She’s still frowning.
“Did anyone else from your family. . .”
She shakes her head. “My husband was killed by the dragon who bonded me, and I don’t have children.”
And now it feels like it’s in poor taste to ask about Mom. I’ll have to circle back around to it later. “I’m sorry about your husband.”
“I don’t dwell on my losses, or they overwhelm me.”
I can see a little more why she’d have wanted to stab her dragon, too.
“But for what it’s worth, most days, I think he got the right end of things. I can’t think of anything worse to wish on a loved one than having them be ensnared, too.”
I’m guessing my mom’s dragon is less like Axel and more like her master, and that thought depresses me most of all. Once I learn to master the basics of my new job, then I’ll start prying for more information about Mom. Until then, I’ll pray that she’s gotten lucky like me.
9
Back when Sousa took over, he made us do as many plyo push-up burpees as we could in ten minutes, every single morning.
Ten solid minutes.
I was in decent shape, so when I first heard that, I thought I’d be fine. The first few days I did them, my legs felt like lead, and my arms shook like leaves in a windstorm. I couldn’t do very many, either. None of us could. About four or five minutes in, I’d slow down so much that it felt like I was barely moving.
But I didn’t give up.
I started doing another ten minutes every night at my own home. By the end of the month, no one could do more than I could. So at night, I started doing fifteen minutes. Within a few months, I actually looked forward to my burpees each day, because they turned my body into a machine.
I’m familiar with the idea that pain is weakness leaving the body. I’m comfortable with pushing past my limits to improve.
