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I don't really understand what he means, but he seems to be talking to himself more than me."So you believe me when I say Loch is on my side?"
He looks like he's been chewing on raw onion. "I believe that we need to have a conversation with a certain highly irksome untamed fae. But first things first. Get dressed. We have work to do."
"Work?" I repeat as I reluctantly exit the tub, confused.
He tosses me a fluffy towel. "Yes, work. In my case? Finding Loch. And for your part, training."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
PLAYING BY THE RULES
Darina
I hate training. In fact, I'm fairly certain training is just another word for torture—at least in Caenan's dictionary. And unfortunately, he's the person assigned to teach me.
He was surprised to learn I could handle a sword, thanks to my old junior fencing club. It's been a while, but I remember the ropes.
He was also disappointed to see I could only manage light ones—made for six-year-olds, according to him.
"We need to put some muscles on you. And work on your endurance."
Hence, the torture.
He made me lift. He made me run. He made me squat. He made me swim in Ryther's tub, from one end to the next, very fast, a hundred times. And now he's making me lift again.
I huff, tossing the fifteen-pound ball after the fiftieth time I raised it over my head, my poor arms screaming.
"Why am I just doing some dumb gym rat stuff? Aren't I supposed to be made of magic, or something?"
Caenan rolls his eyes. "Your magic and your physical strength are one and the same. If you're too tired after running into battle, do you think you can call a shield? Summon an element to your aid? Run around the room ten times now."
I think he's just enjoying himself, making me pay for not listening to him yesterday.
"I'll be back in a moment. And if you don't do the ten laps, I will know."
I huff, half considering collapsing on to the ground the moment he disappears by the archway. I think better of it. The sadist would likely prolong my suffering if I do that.
I'm left alone in the room where Ryther and I met all those lords my first night here—the largest one in this strange house. I didn't notice, but instead of the floor being made of polished stone, like it is in the rest of the house, it's grass under our feet here.
There are no windows, but somehow, it almost feels like being outside. The air's fresh and fragrant. How does that work? Either way, the runwould be pleasant, if I hadn't been tortured for hours.
I think it's been hours.
I'm at the tail end of my nineth lap, sweating, panting, and overall feeling absolutely gross, when Caenan reappears.
"I hate you!" I scream at him, despite the fact that using my voice uses up my poor, screaming lungs.
"I have food," he replies, holding up a tray.
I run faster, aiming straight at him. "Oh my god, I love you."
There's fresh cream again, with scones, and jam, and apples and berries, and roasted cuts of meat. I could kiss him.
He chuckles as he hands me the platter. "Enjoy. It's well deserved. I didn't expect you to do so much today."
I manage a glare over my scone. "You made me do it."
He shrugs. "Only because you could. You're in better shape than I expected."
