The Sanctuary

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I was bone deep tired. I spent every last waking moment training. I trailed uselessly in and out of the prisoners room, handing him his food and walking out, not wanting to waste a single moment.

Colours were beginning to blend together and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I didn’t remember the last time I slept. I avoided Reece and Kat’s concerned eyes, Jonrick’s worried expression and Michael’s concern. I purposely didn’t look at the prisoner.

I didn’t want a single distraction.

 Rider. Become a Rider. So close.

But somehow I found myself, with no reason to be, dragging myself into the prisoner’s room. The prisoner looked up, surprised. I had already dropped his food off earlier.

There was no reason for me to be there.

I just stood there, droopy shoulders and all.

“Alaya?” He asked, quietly. I wasn’t used to him saying my name. Like he thought I was human, on equal ground with him.

Why was I here?

“I –“ I paused and looked at him. There was concern in his eyes. Concern for me?

“I cannot. I cannot do this.”

“Cannot do what?”

“The last challenge. The last thing I need to prove before I can become a Rider,” I wanted to pull my hair out. “Swordplay. Hellish swordplay.” I threw my hands up in the hair, groaning. “Madame Widow told me I was not ready to learn and now she is testing me on it. I should’ve known. I am such a fool.”

The Farsay screwed up his nose. “Is that fair for them to test you on something you haven’t learned?”

I struggled to shake my head. “I- I am only sixteen. You must be eighteen to become a Rider, and swordplay is the last thing we learn in training.” I laughed, dryly. “The only reason I am even getting to become a Rider early is because I captured the crown prince.”

He grimaced.

“I’m paying for that folly dearly,” He muttered, quietly. Then he looked at me, curiously.

“Swordplay is a Farsarian strength. We’ve been trained since childhood how to handle a sword.”

Something sparked in me at his words. I took a look at the prisoner. His clothes hung off him a little more than when I had first seen him, and his face was covered completely by an overgrown beard. His blue eyes were piercing through his bangs, but his jawline was strong and his expression fierce. There was a strength to him that hadn’t reduced in his time as our prisoner.

“You could train me,” I mused. My eyes flew up to his as soon as I realized I had said it out loud. The Farsay’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“Train you?” He barked. “Train my enemy how to swordfight. That makes utter sense.”

I blanched. Of course. 

His lip curled, amused. “Even if I did want to train you, I don’t exactly make the ideal tutor.” He rose his feet in the air and the iron chain made a distinct noise as it clanked on the ground. 

I blew out a breath. I could imagine it now. Edward’s self-satisfied smirk, as he twirled his sword above me. My entire purpose in life, reduced to ashes on the ground.

“God help me, I am never going to be a Rider,” I sighed

The Farsay settled back onto the ground with an amused grunt. “Not sure why you want to be part of this war so badly,” He said, sarcastically. “It’s fun and games watching your comrades fall in battle. It’s even more amusing when you’re caught by the enemy as a prisoner.