“Used to be a gymnasium. The Koenig and his Brethren trained down here before they built themselves a grander space up at the palace.”
“How do you have access to it?”
“I crafted a potion to soothe the proprietor’s migraines and he was so grateful that he offered to let me use any room whenever I wanted.”
Mireille opened one of the doors and gestured for Cassandra to step through.
It was a simple room with nothing more than a dirt floor and a rack of equipment on the wall.
Mireille plucked up two stone practice swords, then handed one to Cassandra. Her arm dipped.
“The real ones will be heavier,” Mireille warned. “Did you exercise at all in the intake tower?”
Cassandra flared her wings in annoyance. “I was working on other areas. Trying to make sure I was capable of carrying these things so no one would be able to tell I’ve only been a Windrider for—” she canted her head, calculating “—two weeks.”
“You’ll need to work even harder to carry them through a fight.”
“I know,” Cassandra sighed.
“So, what kind of trainingdoyou have?”
“My father instructed me in hand-to-hand combat and dagger fighting when I was younger. Before he died.”
Grief darkened Mireille’s features, and Cassandra wondered if something had happened to her own parents.
She was on the verge of probing when Mireille cut her off. “Show me.”
“What, just like, come at you?” Cassandra burbled a nervous laugh. She’d fought Fae before. Mostly Deathstalkers. But that was a lifetime ago. In a different city.
In a differentbody.
“Yes,” Mireille said, lifting her sword. “Try to get a hit on me. Every time you succeed, I’ll give you a five minute break.” The corner of her mouth curled upward.
The smile died on her lips as Ronin padded into the room, then leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Cassandra hadn’t seen him since last night. He’d left the apartment this morning before she’d woken up.
“Glad you could join us,” Mireille said, her eyes still focused on Cassandra.
“Arewe glad?” Cassandra grumbled. “Not sure I want an audience for this.”
“Ignore him. You’ll have a larger audience during the appeal. The loudest of which will want nothing more than to see you lose. You might as well get used to it.”
Ronin nodded subtly, and a little flicker of pride flitted through Mireille’s mercurial gaze.
“All right,” Cassandra muttered, raising her sword. “Here goes nothing.”
It was,quite literally, nothing.
For nearly an hour, Cassandra attempted to get a hit on Mireille as the she-wolf parried and pivoted and knocked away every single strike, barking commands.
Keep your sword up! Stop signaling the direction of your blows! Plant your feet!
By the time Mireille called it, Cassandra was a sweaty mess. Her muscles quivered as she dropped the practice sword, then folded in half and rested her hands on her thighs.
Mireille hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Cassandra thought she was in good shape. But maybe she’d only been in goodhumanshape. And she cursed her new Fae body. What good were magical healing abilities if they didn’t offer instant pain relief?
“Honestly, you did better than I expected,” Mireille said with a wry smile, clapping a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.
