The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 28: Fear and Faith

Over the next week, I devoted most of my time and energy to training. As the group gained proficiency in the basics and learned to trust me and each other, I implemented more complicated drills. The training progressed too quickly for many fighters, but none complained. They knew why we could not slow down.

Soon, the wooden swords would be metal ones. Soon, one wrong move could spell death.

During training and mealtimes, Izra exuded composure, seemingly undaunted by the approaching battle and unaffected by my presence. But whenever we caught a moment alone, she unveiled her other side — an intoxicating blend of magnetism and shyness, of confidence and vulnerability.

We stole sweaty kisses between training sessions, and at the end of each day, we crawled into bed together. Some nights, we explored each other's bodies. Most nights, we simply fell asleep in each other's arms.

    On the morning before the Day of Acrador, I ate breakfast with Ru, Plu, Navi and Alira. Navi presented a fuzzy knitted scarf to Plu, who blushed and grinned — until he handed an identical one to Ru.

"Goddess bless your day of birth tomorrow, Plu," Navi mumbled. He blinked rapidly and swallowed. "And Ru."

Plu flashed a pained smile. "You too." Then she sank into her seat and croaked, "I mean, thank you."

Ru sighed, and Alira chimed in with some kind of reassuring platitude.

But a smell yanked my attention out of the conversation.

One of the cooks carried a steaming plate toward our table, and the sweet and spicy aroma invaded my nose, my mind, and my heart. Cinnamon cake crisps.

My muscles locked up, and my breath cut short. "No. No, stop."

"What did you say, Epsa?"

Alira's voice sounded just like my mother's.

Epsa, did you say something, sweetheart?

Pinching my thigh hard enough to sting, I swung a glance at the tables surrounding ours. The rest of Rashika's Resistance ate, talked, and even laughed, as though our victory was certain. They trusted me.

But what if I was not strong enough? What if these brave warriors died as quickly as my mother had?

"No, no, no." I pushed up from the table, and the room swayed before my eyes.

Pudgy fingers closed over my forearm, and Alira's voice tinkled near my ear. "Epsa, are you alright? Just take a breath and count to ten for me, dear."

Just keep counting, and don't come out or make any sound.

I was vaguely aware of my chair tipping over sideways and clattering to the ground. Then my knees weakened, and a boneless tremble overtook my body.

More voices joined Alira's, but I could no longer distinguish words. My lungs expanded and constricted without finding air. Cold drenched my chest, and darkness invaded my vision.

A sharp voice cut through the white noise, rapidly approaching from behind.

"Get that out of here. I told you no cinnamon cake crisps!"

Footsteps retreated, and the smell dissipated. A new hand grabbed my forearm, this one more familiar — more comforting. As my knees gave out, I sagged into the lithe but solid form in front of me. Her arms hitched beneath my armpits, and one of her hands stroked my back while the other pressed my head to her shoulder.

"I've got you, Epsa." Warm breath brushed my face with her soft alto. "I'm here. Just breathe. Can you breathe with me, sweetheart?"

Though my mind remained plunged in darkness, my body responded. As her chest rose against mine, air filled my lungs. She hummed a breathy tune on the exhale, and the vibration relaxed the vice over my chest. Another breath, and another. Feeling returned to my legs, and my vision cleared.