Come Away

Chapter 21 - Lullaby

Four giggling voices wake me the next morning. I glare at heart-lips and the other peppy cheerleaders as they file in, ready to transform my plain humanness into something pretty and sparkly.

"You must arise and embrace the new day!" One of them sang, and my mountain of yummy feather bedding is torn from me, leaving me exposed to the slight chill in the air. I think the only room with a fireplace is the basement kitchen. Lena mentioned something about faeries being afraid of fire, which is part of the reason all the mortals are in charge of cooking the food. But the no-fireplace policy is a real negative when in comes to rating this place. That and the fact that I'm never allowed to eat any of the amazing looking foods. Or sleep in as long as I want.

Heart-lips is clapping her hands in my face, like that's somehow going to turn me into a morning person. I want to punch her right in her perfect mouth.

"Lady Orla will arrive shortly, and you do not want to be late for your first sparring lesson!"

"Sparring?" I squeak, falling out of bed and landing in a tangled heap of bedding on the floor. I'm pretty sure that word involves fighting and swords. Under pressure, I can hold my own in a fist fight, but put an ancient weapon in my hands and I'm done for.

The four happy pixies don't care if I die, though. All they care about is making sure I look stunning at the funeral.

When Orla shows up, I'm dressed in a brown leather outfit. When I glance in the mirror, I'm startled to see that, instead of my "runaway princess" look from yesterday, I'm met with a fierce warrioress with my hair pulled into a tight bun and makeup defining my cheekbones and my eyes. Some sort of tunic falls to my mid-thigh, where a pair of dark leggings covers the rest of me. There's also a vest around my torso that makes me wonder if it's supposed to be my armor against a blade running me through.

I resist the urge to vomit my quickly scarfed breakfast as I hurry after Orla down the hall. We walk through another door that leads to a grassy area inside the outer walls of the castle. I think I heard Orla call it a courtyard.

There's a man, or a male faery I guess, standing with two spears and a smooth expression. His clear eyes focus on me, and I see the muscles flex along his arm as he tosses the spear at me without warning.

I stumble back with a yell, but the spear sinks into the lawn in front of where my feet would have been if I just held my ground. With my cheeks blaring like a firetruck, I step up to the spear and tug it from the grass with both arms. I'm still thanking the dirt for letting me pull the spear out on the first try, when the fighting instructor starts talking to me.

"Take your spear in both hands and place your feet securely on the ground." The instructor says.

At this point, Orla has taken her usual position of observance several feet away. I know she is just waiting for me to mess this up like I did with the dance routine.

Wrapping my knuckles around the smooth wood, I plant my boots on the ground in my best fighting stance. After a moment where the instructor watches me—like he's waiting for me to do what he said—he sighs and walks over.

"You are not attacking a dragon." He says, adjusting the way I'm holding the spear, and kicking at my feet so they point in the right direction. "If you aim the spear too high, you expose your core to the opponent."

He takes his place across from me again, and now our positions mirror each other.

"Now, we begin." He says.

The morning light is starting to peek over the castle walls, filtering over the courtyard. I inhale and swallow hard, waiting for him to make the first move. In an instant, I'm shoved to the ground. I didn't even see what he did. After scanning over my torso and seeing no blood, I stand up and resume my stance.