What an idiot.
I hear them before I see them. Heavy footsteps walk my way from the direction of a small office that sits in the opposite corner of my sparring mat. Turning my head slightly, I watch Kingston and Corrine make their way over to me. Both are deep in conversation and don’t pay me any mind. Her hair is pulled up high on her head, but her curtain bangs hang flawlessly in place. I will never master that level of looking put-together.
A muscle ticks in Kingston’s jaw as he listens to her speak. They’re within earshot when they simultaneously realize I’m sitting here, causing both to abruptly stop talking.
The corner of my lip slightly raises. He looks anything but thrilled to see me.
“Good. You’re here,” he states, his eyes moving to my wrapped hands. “And ready.”
“Considering it’s my class schedule, where else would I be?” I shoot back.
“Nice to see she hasn’t lost her redeeming personality,” Corrine says, crossing her arms and spreading her feet in what I assume is supposed to be an intimidating gesture.
Fun fact—It’s not.
“If she has any redeeming qualities, that’s not one I would list,” he responds dryly, stepping to the opposite side of the mat.
I roll my eyes. Whatever. “Are we sparring or not?”
“No,” he answers.
I lean back on my palms and kick my feet out. “Then, by all means, whatarewe doing?” I ask.
“Quinn is going to strength train with you. In case you two haven’t met, Quinn meet Caderyn, Caderyn meet Quinn.”
“You can call me Nori,” I say, looking up at her. No need for the formality of last names.
“You can call me Quinn,” she says flatly.
I ignore her and turn back to Kingston. “Why are we not working on combat techniques?”
His gaze falls on me completely. My fingers twitch against the mat. I feel unnerved. “You currently don’t have the strength to be efficient in any kind of battle,” he answers bluntly. Okay, no need to sugarcoat it.
“I’ve never heard him speak quite so eloquently. To be a bit more precise, he’s saying you’re soft. You’d be more of a hindrance in battle than a help,” Corrine casually flings in my direction.
Someone decided to wake up and be a rude bitch today.
Two can play that game.
And I play it better.
“Trust me, I read between the lines just fine,” I state, disdain dripping from my words.
“We’re going to start with bodyweight exercises,” Kingston informs me, his tone cool as he offers me his hand to help me up. “Pull-ups, push-ups, you get the idea, and then move into combat conditioning. Once we get you where you need to be physically, we’ll move to weapons-based training and grappling.” He drops my hand and steps back. “Then, when I think you’re ready, and only when I think you’re ready, we’ll transition into magic resistance training, as that’s all mental defense, which is infinitely harder than physical.”
I bite my lip in hesitation, but give him a firm nod.
The following two hours are grueling. I feel like I’m going to vomit or pass out. Possibly both at the same time. My cheeks are flushed, and my long waves hang in limp disarray. Corrine pushed me past the limits I thought possible. It’s like she has a personal vendetta against me and didn’t waste a precious second using it. Every muscle and ligament in my exhausted body is currently screaming and thrashing in anguish.
Kingston paced the side of the mat the entire session, calling out weaknesses and pointing out places that needed improvement. He was brutally honest and effortlessly efficient. He wasn’t unkind, though. He didn’t set out to make me feel less than. It was more about utilizing my full potential and becoming a formidable opponent. It’s almost as if he knows I’m capable but sheltered.
Today, I was forced to be self-reliant and succeed on my own, or fail.
I rose to every challenge, even if I didn’t necessarily achieve what they asked of me. I still gave it my all, and now my soft, untrained muscles are thoroughly pissed.
Kingston stands over me, looking down at my exhausted form as I lie stretched out on the mat like a starfish. “We’ll continue this during every session, and you’ll meet with Quinn twice a week in the training field for additional practice,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
Corinne scoffs. “At this rate, she should be in a desirable position by next year. If she’s lucky.”
