The Reckoning - Book Two

Chapter Thirty Nine - Demwyn

We had formed a truce.

Daella had requested a fresh start and while I doubted her sincerity and questioned her reasoning I had agreed.

She had said she was tired of hating me, of the way we shared our meals, of the way we treated each other and I felt the same.

And so, now I had to follow through and somehow forget all my previous feelings and thoughts towards the most agitating and irritating person I have ever met and treat her as someone new.

I already knew it was going to be difficult.

I needed to put aside her relationship with my brothers and everything it would mean when they return which would be testing on its own without adding everything that has occurred since they left.

I didn't know how much effort she was going to put into this agreement and whether it would even work. But if it made spending time with her easier and less of a headache then I should at least try, for my sanity's sake.

"Good afternoon Your Majesty." She curtsies, her mouth set in a small smile that I don't quite believe but accept none the less.

"Good afternoon Daella, if you are in earnest to start anew then you can drop the 'Your Majesty', just Demwyn is fine." I reply, testing her resolve.

She forces another smile and nods awkwardly, clearly struggling with the request.

"Very well, Demwyn," She replies, face pinched. "What lesson do you have planned for me today?"

I couldn't deny the gratitude I felt at hearing my name spoken out loud. It feels like months since someone had spoken to me as me, not just as the King, and if she truly wanted to change our dynamic then this would be the first of many changes.

"Well, I have spent our time building up your fitness and teaching you the basics of sword use, so I thought, seeing as how we have agreed to not try and kill each other, that now would be a good time to move onto hand to hand combat." I answer, clasping my hands together in apprehension.

There was a reason I had held off for so long in teaching her hand to hand. I knew it would mean close contact, actively training in ways to injure each other with our bare hands left too much room for the "accidental" slip and soon we would be wearing bruises and swollen eyes.

And while the idea of teaching a woman to fight hand to hand combat still felt wrong it was a staple in any soldiers training and it had been the regime I had been following since the beginning. I could have left it out, she wouldn't need to use it anyhow, but then I wouldn't be training her the right way. And even after everything, she deserved to be taught the right way.

After all my orders and instruction she hadn't given up, hadn't whined or complained, she had come to every practice determined and pushed her body to the limits and often to exhaustion. The least I could do was honour that commitment and continue her training as I normally would.

"Hand to hand combat." She nods stepping towards the training ring with that familiar look of determination.

"Yes, while most fights would involve swords, there can often be times where you can lose your weapon, have it taken from you, or perhaps you are attacked without it on you. So close range combat is taught to make sure you are still able to defend yourself in any situation." I explain walking into the training pit and facing her.

I am all at once reminded of her size and stature compared to mine and it feels somewhat cruel to do this, she should have a sparring partner a similar size to her own to start her training.

But we did not have that. So I would have to make do.

"Right, fists up either side of your face at all times, they protect your face and head. Thumbs out so you don't break them. Your feet stay in the same position as when you use a sword, left foot forward." I begin, bringing my own fists up to my face and she imitates me.

"Good." I acknowledge and she blinks, taken aback by the compliment before returning to her look of determination. "Now I want you to hit my hands, right, left, right left as hard as you can." I instruct, holding my open palms to her. She hesitates for a moment before setting her mouth in a straight line and then she moves.

Her tiny fists pummel my palms, one after the other until I call out to stop.

"Good start," I nod, watching her wide eager eyes wait for the next instruction. "But I think you are holding back on me. You have been swinging that sword for weeks now and I know I have felt harder strikes then the ones you just showed me. So, I want you to dig into your memories and find a moment in time when you were angry at someone or something, not just annoyed or irritated, but true anger, then try again."

I stand with open palms watching as her eyes wander, she stands with fists raised as she shifts through her memories, uncertainty flickers across her face until finally she sets her jaw and stares at my palms. Her bright blue eyes are set in what can only be described as pure rage and then she strikes.

She pushes herself, using every ounce of strength I know she has as she releases all her anger onto me and I feel each of her hits, her anger is vivid and overwhelming as it slams into me, overloading my senses and once again I am wondering how someone so small can fit so much emotion into such a tiny frame. My arms shift with each strike as I hold my position until she is panting for breath and her knuckles are red.

"Stop." I call out and she steps back, wide eyes blinking and glassy as she comes back to the present.

I watch as she stands with hands on her hips, catching her breath, eyes wandering the ground as her anger fades, she slowly reels it into herself until it is just simmering around her.

I can't help but wonder what she had been thinking of, what memory had sparked her rage. I had felt her anger countless times in the past, but this was something different, something more.

"Ready?" I ask and she starts, blinking up at me and nodding, she stands in front of me and holds her fists up just as I had shown her. "This time I want you to focus on how your body moves, fists held tight, arms out straight when you strike, shoulders moving with each hit, torso twisting, and then coming back."

We continue the lesson and she does everything she is told, without questions or complaints and I can't deny the difference in her energy.

It is much easier training someone who isn't actively working against you.

Perhaps this truce could work after all.