Page 162 of Wings of Destruction

Too many times I’ve found myself back in this gym, which also belongs to him. Like I’m something for him to own and if he’d come out of the argument victorious today, he would.

I’d fall in line like the proper lady I might have been if circumstances were different. He probably pictured me down on my knees in front of him, to thank him for his benevolent interference. I scowl and yell, thrusting toward the post and landing a hit at the approximate height of his neck.

I’d nick an artery if my opponent were flesh and blood. And paralyzed.

Sweat beads down my hairline. My wounds from earlier scream in protest at being forced through these offensive maneuvers and I silence the protests with a growl.

I’d let myself panic and look where it got me.

Truthfully, it’s getting harder and harder to fight off the lure of Kieran’s promise. Even with the sweat slicking my skin and my pounding heart, there is something about his offer coaxing me to give in no matter the danger.

Hasn’t the general taken enough already? Now he wants to take me. Or if not my body, then my loyalty, my sanity.

Still, the promise of the real training beckons like smoke curling around my resolve, threatening to choke out my resistance. Power, real power, and a way to wield it for vengeance. I’d be much more capable of it as a graduate.

Unless I learn to stifle those voices, I’ll never be able to get my freedom with any kind of effectiveness. And I’m not sure what I’m going to do when they finally catch up to me.

I’ve already been banished to the mines once. Can they banish me again?

I don’t bother keeping a low profile. I yell and lunge for the wood, forcing my exhausted arm into a series of quick maneuvers that would jam the blade into shoulder, navel, thigh, on a human.

“I hate you.” I sneer up at the pole. “I hate you and your high-handed maneuvering. I hate the way you look at me and I hate the way you smell.”

The gym smells like him. Now that I’ve been up close and personal, touching Kieran’s skin to mine, I recognize the scent in the room. He is everywhere, inside of me and in the air I suck into starving lungs.

I’ve never been good at playing along when people tell me what to do, though. The sooner he learns it…

Mother bemoaned it when I was younger. Often, she’d task the nursemaids to take me to bed but I ran circles around them, only getting angry when they caught me before I’d finished doing whatever my imagination told me to do.

Kieran has the ability to wrangle me much faster than anyone ever could.

I glance at the door, unnerved. My trembling fingers lose their grip on the dagger and it tumbles to my feet and skitters along the mat. A pointed pain travels from my tailbone through my hips and along the back of my knees.

“Void take it all. I don’t need anyone else to fix my problems for me. I’ll be able to find a way out of this, even if I feel lost right now.”

The opportunity doesn’t matter.

“Don’t be an idiot and give in to him. He’ll end up destroying you.”

My snarl reverberates off the coffered ceiling and returns in a discordant and reverberating parody. Shrugging, I switch the dagger to my non-dominant hand and start my routine again.

Sooner or later, castle security or one of the professors will arrive. Someone will surely check this room in their quest for me and I’ll spend the rest of the night in chains. Nothing puts an end to freedom faster than iron and a wish.

Guiding the dagger in a familiar pattern, I cut the air. Might as well rage before they get here.

I let out a heavy breath and grimace. “He’s insufferable. Your temper might get you in trouble but he’s not rational, either. He’s not strategic in any way if he thinks he can use you.”

Sometimes it helps me figure things out to speak to myself in the third person. But the response bubbling up isn’t kind and I bite down on my tongue to stem the overwhelming anger.

Giving in at this point is a betrayal to the people who raised me. I only know I feel strongly enough about it to stand tall.

To stop giving in to hesitation.

There’s screaming inside my head as I attack the post again. I’m not sure of the source of the screaming. Is it me? Is it the memory of what happened during the last battle? Is it the desperate wish to hear those keening cries come from Kieran’s throat?

I imagine life dying in his eyes, the spark of mischief disappearing forever, but my stomach flips and I falter at the last minute.

Stupid.