Page 17 of Vicious Princess (The Trials of Death and Honor #1)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
D espite the dread in my chest, I show up for physical training first the next day. I have no clue what took place during Bloodiamond night at Fern Silva’s last night, but from the looks of it, it’s a good thing I wasn’t invited.
Roman is so hungover, his face and lips are void of color except for a slight hue of green right before he excuses himself to use the bathroom.
Daegel doesn’t care about our feelings, of course.
“Twenty laps around the perimeter of the castle grounds,” he barks. When everyone stares at him, wondering whether he’s serious about it, he adds, “If you don’t start moving now, I’ll have you do twenty-five laps.”
One lap is around 1.5 miles… With a sigh, I start running without waiting for others to get moving.
I barely feel the first five laps. The pain in my hip and knee eased since yesterday, and it feels good to get some fresh morning air into my lungs.
The beautiful scenery helps, too. The grounds are like a massive park with a large pond, orchards, elaborate gardens, and low buildings scattered in between. It’s almost a city of its own.
A city within a city.
After the seventeenth lap, I sweat profusely. My lungs burn and my feet are aching. I’m thankful the sun is not harsh, and the salty breeze that floats from the harbor offers a cooling reprieve.
A few fae pass me, running faster. But not long after, I overtake them while they’re bent over the side of the path, retching the contents of their stomachs into the pristine bushes.
“Morons,” I murmur to myself and push forwards.
Two more laps.
By the end of it, I’m hot all over, sweat pouring down my face. My lungs ache while I pant, bent over with my hands braced on my knees. I lost a lot of my muscle and strength while I was trying to find my way to Ekios.
Long way to climb to the top.
Daegel claps to draw everyone’s attention to him without giving us a moment to recover from the run.
“Get into formation. Four by four,” he says.
We get into the formation, with Daegel at the front. He removes his leather jacket and tosses it to the side. I bite the inside of my cheek and avert my gaze.
Oh, dear gods give me strength.
His shoulders are broad and strong, and his tanned chest is carved out of smooth marble. Each lean muscle shifts under his skin when he moves, and it makes heat curl low in my stomach.
And that sculpted V that disappears below the waist of his leather pants…
Get yourself together, Phoenix.
I need someone to slap me.
“To be an Ezkai means to be in the perfect physical state of being. Your superior Decarios strength, agility, and speed means nothing if you don’t hone it.
I’ll walk you through a series of exercises you need to master,” he says.
“You’ll know once you’ve done it, when you can flow from one practice onto the next one without breaking the rhythm. ”
I roll my shoulders. How hard can that be?
Apparently, excruciatingly hard.
Daegel moves with confidence and ease, going through the positions without breaking a sweat. We, on the other hand, are panting and grunting while we try to mimic his movements.
I’m rusty from the break I took from my training. And it drives me wild to know that I lost all the strength I worked so hard to build over the years.
When Daegel gracefully dives chest forwards, bracing his palms on the ground to catch himself while keeping his back bent, legs in the air, I want to puke.
Someone in the second line does.
My wrists scream from pain, and my biceps tremble so bad that I’m afraid they might give up on me and I’ll have to kiss the stone a few inches away from me. Sharp pain shoots up my side into my hip.
I pant and sneer. But I keep myself in this damn position until Daegel lowers his legs and gets into a low plank. We don’t remain in this position for long. Daegel pulls himself up straight and so do we.
Two cadets are down.
“Why are you standing there looking at me like a bunch of lost puppies?” Daegel arches an eyebrow and clasps his hands behind his back. “Repeat the sequence again. I didn’t see any of you do it effortlessly.”
Oh, fuck me.
I exhale a breath and then start the sequence over despite my quivering muscles.
After the second time around, Daegel orders us to go again.
And again.
All the way until lunchtime.
When he tells us we’re allowed to take a thirty-minute break to eat, I’m on the verge of tears. Silently, I pull myself to my feet and make my way to the dining hall. I eat alone, in the same corner as always, and once I’m done, I return to the physical-training hall.
The second part of the day is dedicated to honing our weapon skills.
“Archers, line up outside,” Daegel orders.
At least he put back on his damn Ezkai leather jacket.
With my bow in hand, I head outside. There, we have a number of targets scattered around the perimeter. Some are farther down, while others are closer. A few targets are fitted high in the branches of the tree that grows on the edge, while others are low to the ground.
Four other archers join me. To my surprise, Kata is one of them.
Her hate makes so much sense now. Her chosen weapon is a bow just like mine. She’s a fae from a good Ekiosh family and yet…no affinity. While I, a mere yrathi from a cursed land of barbarians, have one.
A mixture of pity and petty smugness swirls in my chest.
“When I call you out, you’ll move forwards and aim at the first target,” Daegel says. He claps. “When I clap, you move on to the next. It doesn’t matter if you were too slow to hit the previous one. You hear the clap, you move on. Is that clear, cadets?”
In unison, we say, “Yes, sir.”
“You want to aim true and hit the middle of each target. But mastering your ability to move and aim is much more important than precision. That’s the focus of today’s training session—mastering mobility.
When you’re on a mission, on the field, you might find yourself in a situation where your ability to move with ease will be the only thing standing between you and death. ”
Daegel’s gaze snaps to me. “Human.”
Grinding my teeth, I step forwards. I waste no time and lift my bow. The first arrow hits the target right in the middle, and I’m moving onto the next target before Daegel even claps.
I lift the bow higher to aim at the target in the tree and draw the string. The arrow whizzes through the air and hits the target in the very heart.
Clap.
My feet are swift, my knees soft as I change position and aim once again. The place where I grip the bow starts to burn. I hiss, but ignore it. Every second counts.
A clap echoes just as I let the arrow go and it hits the target. Right in the center once again.
A step to my right and then I get on one knee, drawing the string. It cuts into the pads of my fingers, drawing blood. I curse under my breath and let go of the arrow.
This time around, it lands a little to the side of the target center. Blood boils in my veins.
Clap.
I push myself to my feet and lift the bow higher, aiming at another target on the tree. Blood seeping from the cut in my fingertips makes the string slippery. I fail to draw it properly.
Clap.
“Fuck,” I curse and move to the other target.
I draw the string with an arrow, and it slips a bit, making it quiver. When the arrow lands on the target, it’s once again a little to the left of the center.
My bow refuses to work with me.
I can see it. Daegel can see it. Everyone can see it.
Humiliation burns my cheeks, but when Daegel claps again, I force myself to move forwards.
I miss another center, the arrow landing even farther away. My last arrow barely makes it to the target at all.
Panting, I stare at the last target. Blood trickles down from my fingertips to the ground. Un-fucking-believable . I haven’t missed a mark since I was twelve.
“Nightingale, you’re next,” Daegel calls out.
I keep my gaze on the ground as I whirl on my heel and return to the line. As we pass each other, Kata doesn’t miss a chance to drive her shoulder into mine hard enough to make me stumble sideways.
“Even your bow hates you, yrathi ,” Kata teases, her voice full of venom. “Why don’t you show off your lack of skills somewhere else?”
I take a step closer to her. “My bow might hate me for now, but at least I have an affinity, unlike someone else.”
Kata’s smirk drops, and she sneers at me. She’s about to punch me in the face, but Daegel steps between us smoothly.
“Did I not make myself clear enough, Nightingale?” He looks at Kata. “Stop wasting everyone’s time and get going, or I will suspend you from the training.”
Kata blinks, then bows her head. Without giving me any more attention, she moves into place.
I can’t believe he stepped in and saved me from a humiliating catfight that would have ended badly for me.
Daegel turns to me. Neither his dark eyes or his voice is kind when he says, “You’re bleeding all over my training hall floors. Get to the menders before you bleed out and I have to deal with a human corpse.”
And he walks away.