Page 89 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Oh.” Right, I’d gone to Lady Romula’s to get her blessing for our engagement after I’d allegedly gone to my first combat clinic. I groaned, eyeing my ringless finger, and sank deeper into my lunge, trying to get my leg to bend at the same angle as Rhyan’s. “He didn’t.”
Rhyan frowned, his jaw flexing as he repeated his lunge on the other leg. He returned his gaze ahead. “How was your first combat clinic?”
I sucked in a breath. “Viktor’s wolves are going easy on him,” I lied carefully.
He nodded, lips pursed together. “This run will be like yesterday. But worse.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have I told you how much I enjoy these pep talks of yours?” Pushing my hips back, I went into a half-split, feeling the stretch behind my sore calves and thighs. By the Gods…my legs hurt. “They’re about as good as this stretch.”
Rhyan grunted, sinking deeper into his pose, the muscles in his arms popping. “You’re sore from yesterday. Plus, you’re tired. Your body isn’t used to re-energizing so quickly after what it’s been through, so factor that in. You can’t run on fumes.”
My pulse spiked at his warning. He was right. I stared at the pole, imagining Pavi tied to it, helpless, furious, her back sliced open, and the cries of pain she couldn’t help but release. I sucked in a breath.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“Same as yesterday,” Rhyan said. “One foot in front of the other, eyes ahead. Go slower today—by all counts, your body will force you to. Listen to it. It’s nearly as smart as you are. And, remember, it’s not a race.”
“No winners,” I grumbled, watching half a dozen soturi take their place beside us. “I know.”
“Did the bath salts help last night?” He shucked off his tunic, revealing the stretch of his shoulders and the gryphon tattoo across his back. My breath hitched at the sight of his muscles rippling as he tossed his tunic onto the grass. He tightened the leather belt holding the half-tunic around his waist and turned to face me.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, pulling my eyes away.
“I’ll get you more.” He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. “You eat?”
“A little.”
He eyed me carefully, like he didn’t believe me, but nodded. “Good.”
Aemon walked onto the field, his Arkturion cloak, golden crimson beneath the sun, billowing behind him as he called us to order. My fingers dug into the dirt. My throat dried. Rhyan took a deep breath beside me. The bells sounded. We ran. It was awful. But somehow, I made it through the run without incident. Desperate to avoid a repeat of the previous day, I focused on pacing myself toward the end and grabbed my dagger just as the bells rang. But the victory was short-lived. I threw up again. This time, Haleika was there beside me—ready with a cool towel and water—while Rhyan watched from the sidelines, arms neatly folded across his chest.
He gave me a curt nod as I shakily made my way to my feet and headed off to the baths.
I sat through my classes in silence, taking as many notes as I could, but each lecture was harder to focus on, and I found my concentration waning with each passing hour. I ate lunch slowly, still feeling off, only managing about half my plate. As the day went on, my body had grown sorer and sorer. I was dreading training with Rhyan even as a small part of me couldn’t wait to see him, to be alone with him. This was dangerous territory to be in—and one I regretted about five minutes into our session.
He didn’t take it easy on me at all, and he was a lot less talkative than the day before, donning a constant frown on his face. Gone was the friendly Rhyan, the one who liked to banter and debate words with me or help me find the answer. Gone was the Rhyan who seemed to soften with me, just a little, like he had the night we’d danced, and kissed…. This version of him was all ice and surliness, cold and blunt with his words. He barked order after order, barely looking at me unless he had to.
“Am I…?” I swallowed, shifting deeper into a squat. My legs shook, and sweat poured down my back. The mat was slippery with perspiration. I was about to fall over but determined to stay upright. “Am I doing this wrong?” I asked.
His frown only deepened as his eyes scanned my body. With a noncommittal grunt, he announced the next position.
I fell out of the pose, my muscles shaking like jelly. He said nothing, only began the next demonstration.
I could see his frustration with my performance all over his face. I was failing at this, and he knew it. The thought made me want to cry.
Stopping the Emartis and every other threat coming my way felt impossible, and rightly so. But this felt equally as hard. I hated it because everyone else here was succeeding without problem, and if I failed, Rhyan failed, and so did my sisters. I remembered Rhyan’s words, that I wasn’t to worry about him, but something inexplicable inside of me did worry, and nothing I said or thought seemed to be able to stop it.
I was sore as fuck when I left, my muscles wobbly and useless. It took me four times as long as it should have to make it back to my apartment building and up the stairs. I sank onto the floor of my shower and let the water warm to the hottest temperature it could. Then I stayed there, letting it pound against my back as the bathroom steamed until I had the strength and concentration to stand again.
I barely had any energy to do my hair for dinner and opted for a simple blue dress that didn’t require a shift and tied at the shoulders. The only jewelry I wore was what I had on: my golden arm cuff, its seraphim wings concealing Meera’s vision logs, and two thick golden bracelets around both hands. I left my diadem in its box. Even if I hadn’t minded announcing my station to every guest at the restaurant, I didn’t have the strength to hold my arms up long enough to set the golden circlet against my forehead and tie it through my hair.
Tristan met me at the front entrance of my apartment building, flanked by his two most loyal mage escorts. Behind him, a litter already floating above the shoulders of four Ka Grey mages was ready for me to enter. I nearly sighed in relief. I couldn’t walk one more step today.
I snuggled against Tristan’s chest, inhaling the mint and salt scent that clung to him, my eyes half open as I watched the city pass slowly through the gauzy silver curtains of the litter’s windows. We slowed as we approached the restaurant, and the litter shifted side to side as the mages lowered us to the ground. Tristan exited first, holding out a hand to help me stand and step out onto the street. Urtavia was full with Lumerians from all over the Empire walking in every direction, talking excitedly, taking advantage of the final days of summer to enjoy their night in the city. Many were heading to dinner themselves, dressed in their finest dresses and robes. Freshly cut leather sandals laced up their calves, and sparkling jewelry gleamed off their skin.
We walked up to the restaurant where Haleika and Galen were waiting, standing very close together beneath a red awning above the entrance. It was the first time in days I’d seen them in their normal clothes. Galen donned a white cape held together by a golden scroll pin at his left shoulder. He looked every bit a member of Ka Scholar. Haleika had settled on a silver dress that flowed out at the waist—typical Ka Grey wear, though far less ornate than what her grandmother had chosen the previous night. She’d kept her green soturion cloak over her shoulder, styling it like a cape to match Galen. The overall effect made her look like a princess.
“Our table will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Haleika announced cheerfully. “I heard the food is amazing!” She rubbed her belly and did a little hop-step on silver sandals that sparkled with every swish of her dress.
