"Why do the men always have the honor to fight in war when women have the power to bring the army down to there knees"
A ruthless man is nothing but a man
A ruthless woman is everything a man wishes he could be.
What happens if the rebellion didn't...
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As I woke up, I tossed and turned in my bed, the weight of the coming day pressing against me. The cold morning air seeped in through the cracks in the walls, biting at my skin, but it was the rising tension in my chest that really kept me awake. I scanned my surroundings in the dim light, eyes flicking across the room as the first signs of life began to stir. The others were starting to rustle awake, some groaning as they tried to shake off the sleep, while others were already moving with purpose.
I reached under my pillow, fingers brushing against the cool hilt of my dagger. It was the one constant, always within reach, always ready. I pulled it out and felt the familiar weight in my palm before strapping it into the holster at my side. The sharp edge against my skin was a reminder—today wouldn't be just any day. Today, I had to be more than I've ever been.
I moved toward my gear, grabbing the training set I had laid out the night before. The leather was worn but still strong, the laces tight and secure. As I cinched the corset around my waist, I felt the pressure of it tighten against me, a steady reminder of the discipline required. This wasn't just about fighting—it was about survival. My survival.
One by one, I strapped my daggers into their designated positions, each one feeling like a promise to myself, a vow to never let anyone take me down without a fight. They were tools, but they were also the only thing I could rely on in this place.
After I finished, I moved to the small mirror in the corner. I brushed through my long, dark hair, the bristles scraping against my scalp, before braiding it neatly down my back. It was a simple gesture, but it grounded me, kept me focused. I couldn't afford distractions—not today.
When I finally stepped out of the changing area, the noise in the air hit me immediately. The sound of boots on stone, the clink of armor being adjusted, the low murmur of voices—everyone was up now, readying themselves for the sparring session ahead. The excitement, the anxiety—it was all palpable. But I couldn't let myself be distracted by it. Not today.
I paused for a moment in the doorway, watching as the others moved with purpose, all of them preparing to face each other. Some looked eager, others apprehensive, but all were determined. It was the same every time—this was a place where you were tested, over and over again, until you either broke or rose above.
And today, I wasn't planning on breaking.
I joined the others, slipping into the crowd, making my way toward the sparring ring. My heart was steady, my body ready. There was a familiar calm that washed over me now.
–
"Violet, it seems that your sparring partner for today ended up in the infirmary due to a sickness," Xaden's voice rang out across the training yard, his tone as cocky as ever. "You will now be sparring against Nora Freysson."
I met Xaden's gaze briefly. His expression was unreadable, but the smirk on his lips told me he was enjoying this in his own way. The hint of a challenge in his voice made it clear that this wasn't just about training—there was something deeper beneath it all, something personal.
