The Reckoning - Book Two

Chapter Fifteen - Daella

Every single muscle is taught and strained as I leave my room knowing I hadn't even started my physical training yet and my body felt like it had just gone through three days' worth.

This morning's classes had left me depleted, exhausted, irritated and above all, angry.

As I had been forced to listen to more fae history before a lengthy lesson on social decorum when dealing with the different societies of fae and finishing with a particularly mind numbing class on fae social classes and their places in the Kingdom, all I had wanted to do was run screaming from each class and lock myself in my room where the Mistress and her tutors could not find me.

I had avoided the Mistress attention out of pure luck I presume and she had wandered around each class, standing over us, watching her students with her stick in her hand and her face pensive.

I wondered what went through her mind as she looked at us, what thoughts crossed that cold hearted head of hers as she studied our lesser human selves.

Did she look down on us as weaker beings, pitying us, proclaiming to better us and making us deserving to become a fae wife? Did she enjoy the power she held over us? Did she enjoy the look of fear that crossed our faces when she approached us with a question on her lips in hopes we were not paying attention and she could use her stick against us?

No matter how I looked at her, my thoughts of her always went the same way, because there was no other side of her. She was cruel and controlling and wielded the little power over us she had been given like a crown to rule and govern us.

"Daella, what are you wearing?" I stop suddenly in the corridor, my dark thoughts being broken apart by a group of chosen standing in front of me with confused expressions as they look me up and down.

"Trousers." I answer looking down at the dark brown pants.

"They're men's clothes." Hannah returns, still confused.

"Well they fit me just fine." I shrug.

"Why are you wearing that?" She asks.

"I'm training, I can't do that in a dress." I answer with a sigh.

"Training, what kind of training?" Isbeth asks interested, coming to step beside Hannah.

"The kind of training soldiers do I suppose, learning how to use a sword and different exercises." I answer.

"Why?" Hannah asks.

"To help with...because of the nightmares." I answer, looking down at my feet.

They look away from me, and at each other. They all knew about the nightmares. It was impossible for them not to, they could hear the screams coming from my room every night.

"Well, is it helping?" Isbeth asks, looking actually concerned.

"I don't know." I answer honestly. I know I will be late if I don't leave now. "I need to go." I tell them before passing them in the corridor and leaving their quiet whispers and gossip behind.

"You're late." Are the first words I hear as I reach the training yard.

"Apologies Your Majesty." I say with a curtsy.

He throws the wooden sword at me and it lands on the ground close to my feet. I grit my teeth and pick it up, holding it upright. So it was going to be one of those lessons.

He doesn't give me warning before he attacks, striking fast and hard I scramble to keep up, using each of my blocking techniques to stop him until I am panting for breath but he doesn't relent, striking at me over and over again as my arms shake and I am forced to take a step back and another.