The name Siren followed Freya Helvar around like a curse from the moment her powers first manifested in a raid on her village. With the image of her father's charred corpse and her brother's disgusted face on her mind, she is hauled to the Little Pa...
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MORNING TRAINING WAS probably Freya's least favourite thing about the Little Palace. She was dragged out of her bed at the break of dawn and forced into a training room where the combat instructor, Botkin, made his students beat each other up. The former Shu mercenary had no mercy for anyone and Freya often ended up with bruises littered across her skin by the end of the lesson. His teaching method worked though, as Freya had quickly learned how to fend off opponents twice her size.
Botkin made sure that each student focused on their strengths. If the Grisha he was training was tall and muscular, he would teach them to work with their weight. If the Grisha he was training was slim, small and light of their feet, he would teach them speed, agility and flexibility until they could dance around their opponent like a skilled ballerina during a show. Freya belonged to the latter group of students, being just below the average height and faster than most of the other students in her group.
It was because of this that Botkin often paired her with students that used their weight and strength instead so she could learn to fight them off if need be. And the need would arise, she knew that much. She had seen some of the scars the older Grisha returned with from the front lines. Horrid and gnarly gashes and burns caused by bullets, bombs and drüskelle axes.
Today, however, Botkin had paired her with a girl similar to her own stature. She should never get used to fighting the same opponent, he had said as he batted away the much bulkier boys that had prepared to take their place on the opposite side from her. Instead, he pointed to a girl with short black hair and small shoulders. Freya thought her name was Calina and she had been born on Kerch.
Freya put her fist up in the defensive position in front of her like she had been taught to. Calina did the same, and then Botkin called for the match to begin.
Freya was hyper-aware of all of the eyes on her, of all of the excited whispers. It had been a while since she had fought someone her own size and she had to admit the sudden change made her a bit nervous. Botkin was right, she should never get used to fighting the same opponent. No matter how many times she took down the burly Vladimir who reminded her of a bear or the much taller Maksim who fought like a caged animal. It was foolish to grow comfortable. She should never be relaxed and never assume that she knows their every weakness.
There were no powers allowed in Botkin's classroom and Freya was extremely glad for that as she took in Calina's bright red kefta. She was three years older than her and had earned her colours, the black embroidery screaming at Freya like a huge warning sign. Freya didn't know what she would do if she ever had to fight a Heartrender face to face and only hoped that it would never come to that.
Calina was the first to lunge, her left fist shooting out faster than a bullet. Freya barely had enough time to sidestep away from the attack. She exhaled and steeled herself, forcing herself to zero in on the fight and ignore the prying eyes of her classmates. She knew that somewhere in the crowd, Zoya was watching, alongside Vanya and possibly even Luca – though he was often times paired off faster than Freya was.
