A Court of Smoke and Shadows (An ACOTAR sequel fanfic)

Chapter 9 - Commander

As punishment for disobeying her commander and getting into a fight with said commander, Rhiannon was sent on the laps anyway.
She fumed the whole time, channelling the energy into keeping upright as she jogged through the pine woods that encircled the camp, her muscles straining from the fight. When she was sure there was no one nearby to see her, she disappeared her wings and groaned in relief at the loss of strain between her shoulders.
She continued jogging at a steady pace, might as well take her time. She was in no rush to return to a place where she was shouted at by overbearing males.
The cool air helped to calm her mood and for the first time since Calanmai, she felt more like her normal self.
Overhead, birds chirped and sun light peaked through the branches of the trees, slicing through the relative gloom of the forest floor. The strong smell of pine permeated the air and somewhere nearby Rhiannon could hear the babbling water of a stream.
She wished she could just camp up here but she doubted that would ever be allowed. The morning after they arrived at camp, she was relocated and now shared a tent with two other Illyrian females on the opposite end of the camp to her brother. They had so far been indifferent towards her, but Rhiannon had no problem with that. She had always been a bit of a hermit, Gabriel was the charming, social one.
She was the loner, the weak one, the one with no power. It frustrated her that all she had to her name were a few parlour tricks with her blades. Thinking about how she had lost in the fist fight earlier, maybe she wouldn't have fared better with her twin blades. Maybe Cassian and Mor and Azriel had been going easy on her all this time, Gabriel too. Her anger slowly ebbed into despair as the realisation that she was not as strong as she thought gnawed away at her confidence and churned her stomach.
But you can change that. A small voice whispered in the corner of her mind.
That was true, her father had told her to learn what she could. But what use was it when the only power she had was summoning a pair of wings she couldn't even use properly. She chewed her lip, coming to a stop.
No power doesn't mean weakness, look at Cassian. Rhiannon started to pace in a circle, kicking up leaves and dirt as she wandered through her thoughts. She would show them, power or no power, using her strength and whatever skills she could hone and perfect along the way.
Determined, she made her way back to the female side of the camp.
The other females were already back having finished the rest of the training drills while she was catching up on the run. They ignored her completely as they dueled with each other using wooden sticks, their backs to her. Looking at their muscley size and training gear did incite a twinge of jealousy that she was on the small side. It clearly didn't help in her stand off against their commander earlier. She narrowed her eyes, searching the area for him when someone yanked on her leather collar and practically threw her into the nearest tent.
"Wha-!?" she began before a callused hand clapped across her mouth and she was engulfed by a familiar scent from this morning. Familiar enough to make the blood boil in her veins again. Ripping his hand from her face, Rhiannon turned to glower at her commander, "So you drag unsuspecting females into empty tents now? Whatever next?" she hissed, hands on her waist as she stared him down.
She noticed his gaze kept going to behind her and she turned just to check there was nothing there, "What are you?" He asked, "Or rather who are you?" he corrected, crossing his arms.
That made Rhiannon pause, did none of the camp commanders and higher ups know about her and Gabriel? She assumed they would have been informed by Lord Devlin. Well this was a new development.
"Where are your wings?" he said, staring pointedly at the empty space behind her back. "I don't know who you are, what you are, or where you came from but I swear by the Cauldron if you're done deceptive shape-shifting creature here to create chaos then you're in the wrong place." his voice sharp and hard like the edge of a tempered blade.
He's not wrong about the shape-shifting, she thought. Chaos on the other hand...
The commander descended upon her, eyes blazing. Her knees quaked a little and she cursed her body from remembering the pain of the fight from the morning.
"I won't ask you again." He growled, "What are you?" Rhiannon felt the familiar pressure of a dagger being pointed into her side.
She almost sighed with pleasure, finally something she was familiar with. She casually brushed a tangled strand of black hair that had slipped free from her braid away from her face.
"It seems Lord Devlin has neglected to part with that piece of information." she quipped, before she was even done speaking, the commander was on the floor with her knee in his back and his blade twirling merrily in her right hand. She did have surprise on her side, but it would do.
Not quite perfect but close enough. Her blood practically sang with joy as the sharpened blade flipped in between her fingers.
"Get off me." he growled from beneath her. His wings tucked in tight as if scared she might decide to stab them as revenge for losing the fight this morning. Rhiannon scoffed, she was pissed, but she wasn't evil.
"I'll let off if you promise to train me," she ordered, "properly." She added applying more pressure onto his back. She felt him stiffen under her hold.
"No." he growled, his voice muffled from being pressed into the floor.
She pressed down harder with her knee and bent down closer, bringing the gleaming edge of his dagger to rest on the tanned skin of his neck.
"I'm sorry, it seems I misheard you." She sang close to his ear.
The commander fixed her with a stubborn glare from his position pressed into the ground with his arms locked under her foot. A drip of sweat snaked down Rhiannon's back as she fought to hold him down.
"No." He gritted from behind clenched teeth. She could feel the tension radiating from him.
That wild part of her she had kept locked away after Calanmai started to creep through, as if it could smell the fight aching to break through. It made her brave, and reckless.
"Train me or I tell the General." She threatened with a silky smooth voice she didn't know she was capable of producing.
Grey eyes flared in surprise and he nearly bucked her off him.
"How do you know the General?" He demanded.
She considered his question for awhile. His wings bristled at the pregnant silence.
"I will tell you in exchange for training." She offered, tapping the flat edge of the blade against his scar. He flinched at the cold metal.
"Fine." He growled.
"Promise?" She pressed her knee into the soft of his back further.
"You have my word." He hissed, "now let up, my arms are cramping.
Slowly, Rhiannon released him and back away swiftly to the other side of the tent. Her commander practically lept to standing fixing her with a death stare.
Everything about his stance told her he was predator looking at his prey. Maybe she was wrong to think he would uphold his promise. There was nothing from stopping him from ripping her to shreds unless she screamed for her brother. She considered it.
Tapping the blade she had disarmed from him against her other palm she looked at him. Really looked at him this time. He seemed relatively young compared to the other Illyrians she knew. He towered over her, as they all did, and was well built with dark membranous wings that hung behind him like a shadow. She couldn't comment much on them, other than she knew someone with a much more impressive set. Her heart squeezed uncomfortably.
Her commander narrowed his grey eyes at her as he noticed her slow inspection. Perhaps even turned his face a little so his brutal scar was more obscured. Despite his stereotypical male ego and standoffishness, Rhiannon had a feeling he was one of the nicer camp commanders. Especially if... "Did Cassian appoint you to your current role?" she asked, still playing with the blade.
He frowned at the use of the Illyrian General's name. She saw him glance at the was the metal danced between the fingers before meeting her inquisitive stare.
"How do you know the General?" he asked tensely.
Rhiannon made a noise at the back of her throat, General of Sassy comebacks and inflated ego more like.
"We've...met." she said slowly, "under friendly terms." she added hastily. "Did he appoint you to train the females?"
He stared her down, "Yes." he finally said.
"You agreed willingly?"
"I volunteered, if you must know." He said pointedly.
That little piece of information startled her. "Why?"
"That is none of our business." he clipped and made to stride out of the tent. "I would summon your wings wherever it is you've put them. We don't take kindly to strangers in our camp." he warned gruffly.
Her eyes widened, was he being nice?
She threw out an arm, blocking his exit. Her palm rested against the warmth of his hard chest and she felt her cheeks heat. "Keep your promise." she demanded.
He gave her a side long glance, "if you didn't realise I have been training you newbie." his voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Not the stupid laps and playing with sticks. Train me properly. Hand to hand combat, since that's something I'm clearly lacking in." she winced at the acknowledgement of her weakness. Daggers and swords she could do, take them away and she struggled.
Cauldron boil her, she felt like a child. Well, compared to a good majority of the camp, she probably still was. Dusty old farts.
"Meet before dawn at the clearing in the forest. Maybe I should drill some respect into you as well." he growled and gripped her wrists, his hands hot against the bare skin of her wrists.
They glared at each other again, tension sparking the air around them. She wasn't done yet.
"There must be a reason why you agreed this position when most insufferable males wouldn't touch it with a mile long pole." she said coolly, and was satisfied by the slight twitch of his wings. She was on the right track. "Mother, or sister perhaps that you want to do right by?" she pushed.
One moment she was standing, the next her back was on the floor with two hundred pounds of pure muscle honed by centuries of training and war snarling on top of her. If she wasn't so terrified she might have flushed more at the rather compromising position they were in.
"You would do well to remember who I am, littling." He snarled, sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light of the tent.
If only he knew who I was. She mused.