Page 163 of Wings of Destruction

I stop and straighten, pushing long hair out of my face. Cracked skin from my fight with Evie splits open with my new movements. My palms are rough and calloused from weeks of hard labor and my fingers will never be the same.

Grinding my teeth, I kick off the thin flat slippers and send them flying, working my toes on the mat. The grip is better this way.

Ladies don’t climb trees the way you do, like some kind of basilisk. You are never going to be a proper lady if you keep engaging in this kind of behavior, Morgan.

Mother’s voice is in my head now too, tangible and real enough to get my tears flowing again.

She bemoaned the wildness of my childhood, bemoaned the state of my dress and the twigs in my hair, the way I used to take to the fields to test my speed against the unicorn herd. I kept pace with the newborns, then. Before adolescence took hold of me and changed my shape.

I lost my speed but maintained the feral desire for more. The anger has always been there, a hand around my throat, squeezing but never enough to choke me until now.

Fury has been the single constant in my life and I stopped asking why a long time ago.

I roll, grunting over the pain in my spine, and come up on the side of the pole to swipe the blade over part of the curved wood.

Another glance at the door shows it in the same position as I left it with hardly a crack to show the hallway beyond. Is no one coming to get me?

Do they have a clue where I am yet?

Why would they? Unless Kieran gave you away…

Far be it from me to think highly of him.

One moment of weakness, one second where I allow my guard to slip around him, and I may very well attribute him with more kindness than he deserves.

Again, my mind corrects.

I’ve already let my guard down in his presence and look what happened.

He caged me to the wall, using his body like a steel gate and just as immovable. I keep training, keep moving, even when I start to slow. Maybe I should face my death like a woman of honor and turn myself in.

There is no way I’m going to allow myself to be corralled into an education here where I’ll be expected to make my prayers for the King’s safety. The same king who is ignoring the cries of his starving people in favor of a mad general who wants to turn the kingdom to scorched earth.

Perhaps running like a coward is the best option.

Living to fight again.

I find myself going in circles as I twist to the opposite side of the wooden post. There are just as many scars on this side of the wood as the other.

Kieran has done his diligence, the same way he moves through the rest of his life. He sees everything and leaves no detail unattended. He’d work the same way in a fight.

To be trained by him…

To learn how to fight the way he did on the battlefield that day… would I have made a difference if I’d mounted a defense against him?

Probably not.

The door remains closed. Night falls outside the windows and the glint of the moon I’d read by for the last week and a half has not made an appearance yet. The blanket of night rolls across the sky and turns everything to shades of black and gray.

Like life. Like my options. There is no clear way forward that doesn’t involve some kind of sacrifice. Do I value honor more than my life? It seems that way, considering the choice I’ve made to refuse Kieran’s offer.

There is no sound to announce the appearance of the newcomer, at least, none I hear above the great gusting of my own breath. The gym is empty of life outside of mine and then it’s suddenly not.

Astrid stands in front of the door, her arms purposely hanging loose at her sides. Her eyes are agitated, dark, promising violence with the first misstep.

I jerk back but tighten my grip on the knife.

Silently, she stalks forward, making no sound. Her gaze dips and her lips tighten.