Princess Turned Barter

Bonus Chapter

Younger Kyra

I was naive when I joined the guild. I allowed Elric's words to ring in my head, his compliments and manipulations. I allowed myself to believe that maybe I had what it takes to become powerful, to make something of myself - to even help those at home.

But I was not strong, brave or fierce. I was a weak, inept nineteen year old who had no husband and no family. I was shovelling sheep shit and pulling carts for a living and happened to get lucky and win an arm wrestle against a notorious assassin. That doesn't equate to power, it equates to foolishness.

I was beaten senseless. My body was heavy, bleeding in places I didn't know blood could go. I had broken bones, a broken spirit and an even bigger broken sense of the world.

And yet I stayed.

I stayed because I needed to make something of myself. I needed to go back home with more than a broken body to prove that I am something - and greater than that, I needed to help those that couldn't do the same.

I will never give up.

—-

A blade slices into the side of my cheek causing it to burn hot flames as blood slides down my face. If I didn't move out of the way, it would have taken an eye. My mouth tastes like a disgusting concoction of metals, and the feeling of blood dripping down my neck is extremely uncomfortable - especially as it mixes with sweat and pools at the nape of my leathers.

"You're slowing down, Kyra!" Adrian yells as he cleans a bit of my skin off the tip of his glistening sword.

"I'm getting tired, there's a difference," I bite back, although my tone doesn't hold much aggression - I am too exhausted to be graphic.

"We've only been sparring for an hour," He reprimands, slicing his sword through the air.

"After a full day of training!" I cry, my voice hoarse from the grunts of battle.

"One more round," Adrian demands, his blade coming instinctively closer to my face.

Our swords clash together and the sound of metal on metal echoes around the training room. It is desolate, with only us inside. No one usually trains after supper, except for me - apparently. Elric says I have promise and potential.

All I feel are wobbly knees and a stinging cheek, no extraordinary talent for violence.

I try my hardest to push past the numbing of my cheek and focus on trying to end this fight. I don't think I can hold out much longer.

For a full year Adrian, the best trainer this guild has to offer, has been throwing me into the deep end and telling me to swim. I didn't know how to use a sword, yet he gave me one of the heaviest and told me to defend myself. I didn't know how to do hand to hand combat, yet he punched me in the face - broke my nose - and told me to punch him back.

Adrian had said he could teach me every trick he knew, but It would find me no purpose.

He told me, "why learn the ways of someone else's body when you can learn your own?"

So I learnt instead of mirroring his actions, I should find faults in them. Just like I find faults in my own abilities to carry out a task. I thought that eventually, and after some brutal beatings, I should do what Adrian wanted and use my mind to defeat him. It did improve my abilities substantially, but not enough to actually win anything.

"Come on, Kyra!" He shouts. "You're giving up so easily. I thought you were strong, not weak and pathetic."

I roll my eyes and try to shake his words away, but they won't budge. It's just ringing in my ears, the word pathetic. I have been forced into the world of men since I was a little girl. Two things I hate most? Men in power, and men in power who think it's right to pray on the weak. Pathetic felt like a nickname when I was young. A name spat at me by men who could have quite easily ripped my tiny body in half, yet they still felt the need to dominate me.

Suddenly Adrian isn't a man who is teaching me skills, he is a man in power.

I bounce on the balls of my feet and feel my toes become red hot. It travels to my knees and up my thighs, causing them to hurt as I stalk towards the large, muscular body of my opponent. The smug smile on his face at the sight of my exhaustion is plastered for all to see. But I don't feel tired anymore, I feel angry.

Before I can think, there is no longer a sword in my hand; instead my knuckle is suddenly burning, as if I broke all of my fingers, and Adrian is tumbling backwards and soon finds his place on the floor.

"Bastard," I grunt, spitting down at him.

His deep, rumbling laughter begins to shake through my body.

"I knew you could do it," He says after spitting blood.

There is this innocent excitement in his tone, as if his child has just taken its first steps. I am consumed with a feeling in my chest, it's not burning or making my face hot. It resembles something like a hug from someone you love. I have experienced this feeling once before, when I was younger; however, I am still unsure what it is.

Adrian picks himself up off the floor and places his large hand on my shoulder, covering the whole bone.

"You should be proud of yourself." He says with a smile and taps my back.

Pride?

Is this feeling pride?