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With that, he stalked off.
And I could finally take a full breath—however momentary it might’ve been. Something in his demeanor told me he wouldn’t take it easy on me in the morning.
Nine
Wandering the castle in mindless circles, I got lost in the labyrinth of corridors and staircases while trying to locate the training room.
The disappointment that radiated off Talon when I arrived made me pause, and part of me knew it wasn’t because I was late. He was no longer in his uniform and instead wore leathers like mine, putting his muscles on full display. His body—cruel and vicious and sculpted to kill—intimidated me.
His jaw fluttered, and I twisted the ring on my finger.
“We don’t have much time until the next competitor arrives. Get stretching so we can jump into warmups.” Talon turned his attention back to the well-honed sword he was sharpening, guaranteed to filet someone’s skin open with one small nick.
I pulled my arm behind my head, stretching my triceps. “What exactly are we going to be doing?” I switched to my other arm.
“We’re going to focus on building your stamina and working your core.” Talon arched a brow. “You have quite a bit of work ahead of you if you plan on surviving the first round.”
Sitting on the mat, I spread my legs open and reached my right hand to my left foot, my hamstrings crying from the strain. “Why do you care if I survive or not? What’s in it for you? I mean, you’ve made it clear you’re doing this out of sheer pity. Why bother?”
“You’re here to train, Elowyn, not ask questions about things that don’t concern you. We each have our parts to play—the less we deal with each other, and the less we know about one another, the better, right? Now keep stretching.”
“Maybe I’ll fail just to spite you.”
He sheathed his swords and stalked toward me, crouching down in front of me. His hair tickled my cheek, and my breath caught as he commanded, “Get on your knees, and give me three sets of fifty push-ups.”
A hundred and fifty? He was mad!
Talon stood and leaned against the mirror.
Stars, how I wanted to scratch that stupid, condescending grin off his face. Keeping my death glare on him, I lowered myself to the ground, wishing looks could kill. My arms burned after the second set, and I struggled to finish—pleading my elbows to keep extending. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of not being able to complete a menial task, but it was exhausting, especially when it’d been days since I’d eaten anything of true substance. I dropped to the ground after the last one, my arms like jelly as I struggled for air. As a runner, my endurance was above average, but my strength was less than ideal. Especially when competing against some of those hulking machines.
He blinked, painfully unimpressed. “Pathetic—I’ve seen children do better than that,” he spat. “Get up and meet me at the ropes.”
Talon turned his back to me and strolled to the other side of the room as I continued to lie there, fighting the compulsion to throw the nearby weight at his head. I didn’t know who this guy thought he was or where any of these fae got off on being cold and merciless, but it stoked something inside me.
King Harkin’s sob speech about humans turning on the fae was outlandish—bullshit rhetoric spoon-fed to them over the years. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d created a blight just to watch humans starve for their own bizarre enjoyment.
Nevertheless, if I wanted to get out of there, I needed to play their games. And not only the ones the king was going to put us through.
With a resigned sigh, I got to my feet and followed behind him, internally cursing with each step. My vision followed the length of the rope to the ceiling, where it stopped. It was much longer than the one we’d climbed during assessments.
I gulped—falling from that height would break multiple bones.
“Any day now, human,” Talon urged.
“Is that a joke?”
He picked at his short, jagged nails. “I don’t joke, it’s a waste of time. Just like what you’re trying to do. Now get going.”
I scoffed. I wouldn’t be surprised if his motive for choosing me was to kill me before I could participate in the trials. An up close and personal piece of fae revenge.
My fists clenched at my side. So, either I died from training or died from the trials. Regardless, it’d be a miracle to come out of this alive, so screw it.
Play the game, I reminded myself. Focus.
I gripped the rope, the course texture scratching my palm, and pulled myself onto it. My feet locked around the bottom, helping to keep my weight distributed as I put one hand above the other.
Focused on my breathing, I kept my eyes locked onto my hands. The risk of missing the rope and slipping like I had when racing against Jeston wasn’t an option.
