Angel of the lake

Chapter Twenty-Two

Over the course of the next week, the Amazons worked Megan to breaking point.

They followed a different plan for every day. Some days she'd fight, fight, fight until her feet felt ready to give out from underneath her. Fallon would kick her ass maybe a thousand times, never telling her how to do better.

That wasn't the Amazonian style.

Meg had asked Kyra about it, tired of being beaten easily.

The woman had explained with an analogy.

She explained that children learn to speak slower when they're constantly being corrected. Apparently, Meg would learn by seeing how those around her did it.

So she pulled her punches and bit her tongue, throwing her fists until she learnt to hit her target. The proud look on Fallon's face when she finally got a punch in was definitely worth it.

She realised soon enough how Fallon worked anyway. Fallon would target the same weak spot over and over again until Meg caught on for herself.

Other days, Meg was forced to train her brain.

She'd be locked in rooms, often tied up, in what seemed like a normal hostage situation. They'd let her out at the end of the day when a demon came to collect her, but until then, it was down to Megan to find a way to escape. They were teaching her how to think differently. How to think like a survivor.

Their methods were unconventional, and though tiring, Megan felt them working.

The King and Megan didn't see each other much over that week. With Megan training every waking hour of the day and Claudio tending to his Kingly duties, their interactions were limited to the breakfast table, especially with that pesky wall separating them at night.

Their upcoming date night would be the longest they'd have spent together in a while.

Megan, for the most part, wasn't sure what to feel about it.

"You look fine," Caspian groaned from where he lazed across her bed clutching the bridge of his nose.

For ten minutes now, he'd been held victim to her fashion show. Slowly but surely, Meg was coming to terms with the wardrobe and how near enough every occasion demanded a different attire.

Meg didn't understand the ins and outs of this date. Choosing what to wear was yet another thing to stress about.

As of now, she wore a strappy black dress, courtesy of Evette.

She huffed, glaring at the demon Captain through the mirror. "Fine's not the look I'm going for." She hated the scars on her back, the ones this dress so clearly revealed.

She could cover them with her hair, but those dark tresses had a tendency to move.

"Good God, just shoot me already. I'm not cut out for this."

She huffed, shooting the demon a glare. "I want to look my best."

"Claudio doesn't care what you're wearing. For the last time already, I don't care what you're wearing."

"Aren't you supposed to help me?"

"I can help you call someone who cares. Evette maybe? She'll tell you whatever you want to hear."

"You're so annoying."

"Ditto Megsy." The demon glanced to his wrist. He was supposed to walk her out to meet the demon King ten minutes ago. "Can we go now?"

"I just want this to be perfect."

"He doesn't care what you're wearing. How many times am I going to have to say this?"