Page 100 of Wings of Destruction

Why else would Lochlain stay silent in the face of so many atrocities?

Kieran and his basilisk slime cousin should only be granted special accommodations if they earn them. If they distinguish themselves through their intelligence, or their strength of character, then by all means.

Let them have the amenities.

I stretch out my legs and my balance evens out.

If they treat others with extraordinary kindness, then they deserve it. But the last time I checked, they were both super stinky piles of basilisk poop. Especially Kieran.

With shoulders that could bear a crown and a stride that commands attention.

I grit my teeth. None of that matters when he’s still the enemy. I shove the thought aside, then swipe the staff through the air, imagining the sharpened steel of a sword instead of wood.

I’ve decided that Kieran is a spoiled little brat and his daddy’s name buys an easy way through life. Kieran won’t use the gym anyway. I’ve never seen him around. He might take advantage of the steamy showers of his lux private bath, but not the exercise space.

Someone might as well use it, give it a reason to be cleaned by the maids working tirelessly to keep this palace running without so much as a nod of appreciation.

Besides, Mrs. Milkin is aching for a reason to send me to the mines, so why wait? What’s the point, if I’m going to end up there anyway? She’ll catch me eventually.

At least this way I’m giving myself a fighting chance at survival. I’m not going to wait for her to find some other insult, real or imaginary, and use it as the tipping point to boot me out.

“Eat this.”

I thrust the sword into Kieran’s invisible face this time. The tip pierces his eye sockets and he finally stops looking at me with the smirk on his face. Void, I could kiss that smirk.

The thought sends me off kilter and I falter forward, swinging my arms to overcompensate, and landing hard on my knees anyway. My breath shoves my chest forward and my ribs go tight.

Those are definitely not the kind of thoughts to get me where I need to go. Those are the kind I need to not exist, and somehow have, since I caught him in the shower.

I didn’t see anything. Much.

Through the steam and the nerves I can’t even be sure of the glimpse I did get. When I shouldn’t have been spying.

Voyeur.

I slap my palms against the mat and force myself up despite the swell of lightheadedness. This sparring session is more like therapy.

“And I need all the help I can get,” I mutter out loud. “What do they know?”

Any of them.

Everyone in this palace has an opinion and a means of ensuring their cruelty. My body begs me to stop and give it the necessary break. But I’m never going to be able to challenge Milkin or Kieran if I rest. They’re the same as any of the other beasts out there ready to bite me in half.

I swipe my hand up along the side of my head to the juncture of my ponytail and tighten the ribbon. Ether take me, I’m losing myself.

The thread holding me together seems so pitiful. Have I always been this way?

Maybe I’m as bad as the rest of them because before this, I thought I had myself figured out. I thought life had meaning and purpose and direction. I thought I was strong but really, I’ve lost any understanding of the word.

Now, it only takes one thought of Kieran, colored by hatred, for me to lose my cool. Whether I want to kiss that infuriating smirk off his face or slice it away with steel. Both options feel equally violent.

This isn’t like me.

I glance out the mullioned windows on the south wall and the silent stars outside watching me push through my misery. The stones are equally hushed… there’s too much quiet in my life. Sneaking around this way only forces me to turn inward.

I’ve never lived my life that way.

Getting my breath back, I consider the wall of weapons and shake my head. Tonight, the best thing to do is to sleep and plan. I’ve already run through my repertoire of Elspeth’s balance postures with the staff.