The Reckoning - Book Two

Chapter Fourteen - Daella

I stare at my half eaten bowl of porridge not sure if I could stomach anymore when I hear the distinct sound of the Mistress clearing her throat, I turn to find her standing at the head of the table, a smile on her face. I hold my breath wondering what torment she was about to inflict on us.

"Chosen," She begins, hands clasped in front of her. "The King has proclaimed due to the selection being delayed that your lessons will begin again. You all still have much to learn about fae culture and history as well as classes in etiquette and decorum. We would not want you to forget what you have learned so far and because we do not know when the selection will take place, bringing back your lessons will ensure you will remember and continue to grow." She smiles at the chosen, the sharp severe smile that only makes me turn away from her.

I look down to my bowl and find my spoon in my hand, fingers wrapped around the delicate silver in a tight fist so it digs into my flesh.

He was starting our lessons again.

I had thought we were done with them, free of them, but he had started them again and now I would be made to suffer and endure each lesson as I did before. Only now it would be so much worse. I didn't have the patience I had before. I didn't have the energy to pretend and parade around as I had before.

As if my life wasn't a struggle already, with a wave of his hand he has gone and made it so much worse.

"You started the lessons again?!" I demand as soon as I am in ear shot of Demwyn and his hulking form, unable to contain my rage any longer.

He looks at me confused for a moment, before collecting himself then nods.

"Yes, we don't know when the selection will take place, it only makes sense for your lessons to continue until it does." He answers with a shrug.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?!" I bite out.

"I am giving the chosen more time to learn. Why are you so upset?" He asks, brow furrowed in confusion verging on irritation and anger.

I laugh without humour. "You have no idea what those lessons are like. I would rather do a hundred push ups and run around this entire palace until my legs don't work then be made to attend those classes."

"You're being dramatic!" He snaps. "They're lessons on fae culture and etiquette. I can't possibly see how they could be as bad as you are making them out to be." He shakes his head, looking at me like I am just a hysterical woman who doesn't know her place and I wish I had the wooden sword in my hand right now so I could use it against him.

"Of course I am, I'm just a stupid woman. What would I know?" I say, hands fisted at my sides.

"I never said that." He replies, finger pointed at me in warning.

"You didn't have to. We don't need more lessons on fae culture and etiquette. We are perfectly capable of curtsying and dancing and performing like the picture perfect simpletons you desire." I tell him.

Another frustrated sigh.

"I'm done talking about this. You aren't the only one involved. These are lessons all fae are given and attending them will only do you and the other chosen good. Now are you going to train or not?" He asks folding his arms over his chest already having decided the conversation is over and not up for debate. Of course not, he is a king, not only that he is a male, he made the decisions, we follow them, that was always how it would be.

"Fine." I grit out through my teeth, rolling my shoulders.

He walks over to the rack of weapons picking up two wooden swords.

He hands one to me and I take it, holding it as I had been shown and adjusting my stance.

"Did you still have a nightmare last night?" He asks, surprising me for a moment, but I don't change my stance or lower my sword.

"Yes." Is the only answer I give him, he nods once before raising his sword.

"Ready?" Is the only warning he gives me before he attacks.

I hold my arms steady, blocking each of his attacks as he moves and I move with him, no, against him, I don't think I could ever move with him.

His face remains impassive as he strikes me over and over, eyes held in concentration as we move quickly, each new set becoming faster.

I try and school my features, knowing he didn't need to look at my face to know exactly how I was feeling. My human nature gave everything away just by breathing. My emotions would be as clear to him as the scent of jasmine in the air from the nearby flowers.

I didn't want him to be able to read me so clearly. I didn't want him to know what I was feeling. It felt like an invasion. Like a privilege he did not and would never deserve.

I feel the slap of his sword against my shoulder and curse as he steps back from me.

"You weren't paying attention." He says as I roll my shoulder, trying to free it from the stinging pain.

I bite back my remark mostly because he had been right.

I stand ready and wait for him to approach.

"Ready?" He asks and I nod.

He attacks again, sword hitting mine again and again and all I can think about is the Mistress' smile as she looked down at all of us, knowing that she would have us in her clutches again.

I feel his sword strike my other arm and curse in pain as he steps back.

"Something on your mind?" He asks as I shake out my arm.

"What do you care?" I ask, wiping my arm over my forehead.

"I don't." He answers simply. "But whatever you're thinking about is distracting you from being here."

"Apologies, Your Majesty." I curtsy dramatically, watching the way his jaw ticks, smiling to myself internally.

"I don't want your fake apologies, I want you here, focussed, otherwise we are both just wasting our time." He replies, eyes staring into mine and I feel myself pull away from him. All my emotions, all my thoughts and feelings pull back from his stare. It felt too much like mind reading when he stared at me like that.

"I am here." I say, tightening my grip on my sword.

"Good." He nods once, breaking his stare and running a hand through his hair. "Ready?" He asks stepping towards me and raising his sword.

I take a breath knowing he had been right and hating him for it just a little more.

I nod in answer and he moves.

All I think about and focus on are our swords, the sound they make as they strike against each other and the feeling that reverberates down my arm. I listen to the sound of my breath as I move, lungs struggling to keep up with the onslaught. I note the feel of the dirt beneath my feet with each step I take and twist and turn I make.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Iwouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right one more time.