Wind Wielder

Chapter 21 - To Train a Spy

The next morning at training, Mor was standing waiting for Zara in the training pit. The female was dressed in Illyrian training leathers, a wicked blade running down the back of her spine, her long blonde hair tied into a braid at her back. She wore an unimpressed expression on her face, her arms crossed at her front.

"Where's the Shadowsinger?" Zara asked bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries. Mor's mouth twisted downwards at the corners.

"Out cleaning your mess," Mor replied in the same manner. She stared at Zara as if expecting her to say sorry.

Zara did not. She didn't think she had the capacity for it.

Mor continued. "Seeing as you broke about twelve different treaty agreements last night by going to two Courts in one evening, Az will be busy all day."

"I don't see why visiting Kazia's grave counts as breaking treaty agreements." Zara mused quietly. It was the first time she had said Kazia's name out loud to someone else. Over a month after her passing. Zara cursed herself for her cowardice.

Not any longer. She would not be a sniveling coward anymore. Not when Kazia was gone and Zara was still here. Still living.

She owed it to her at least. To try.

Rage had offered its tantalizing grip out of that wretched pit of despair, and Zara was clutching onto it with everything she had.

Mor curled her lip in vexation, brown eyes glittering with annoyance. "You know damn well why, you just are too busy shoving your head further up your ass."

Zara's lips curled into a wry taunting smirk at that, one that she didn't feel like at all. "You gonna punish me for it?"

Mors arms uncurled from her chest. "I plan on making you puke at least twice by the time you're done with today's workout, yes. Unfortunately, we don't punish newbies too hard in the Night Court when they're still young and stupid."

Zara ignored Mor's insult. "I don't want to workout today. I want to fight."

Mor laughed in her face. "You don't know how."

Zara shrugged. "Then allow yourself the pleasure of teaching me the hard way."

It was then Mor noticed Zara's already poorly wrapped knuckles. The padding she had shoved beneath the wrapping, lumpy and folded with wrinkled creases. As if she had tried wrapping and unwrapping multiple times. Zara had.

"You understand I would wipe the floor with you, Stormbringer." Mor stated cooly.

Zara grinned savagely, entering the ring. "Who knows. You might be surprised. I'm a very quick learner."

"Don't look so damn eager for a beating. We still need to warm you up–"

"I already did it in my room this morning. I memorized what Azriel taught me. I'm ready." Zara interrupted. She just wanted the chance to hit something. Hit someone. Focus on anything other than last night. Zara didn't give a fuck if she came across as desperate. She was.

She knew Mor couldn't understand for the life of her why there was suddenly rage lining the deep emerald of Zara's eyes. Why there was suddenly manic fury in every line and curve of her sunken, sallow face. Not when Azriel had surely described her as lifeless and hollow only days ago. But Zara saw the moment Mor decided. That if the wind wielder wanted a beating... she wouldn't deny her.

Mor smirked savagely, an expression Zara was certain she had seen Cassian making. "Arms up. Always lead a punch with your first two knuckles, thumb outside of your fist. You'd better learn how to block quickly, Stormbringer."