She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Althera started, swearing beneath her breath as Zephyra's fingers closed around the dagger, a good few inches away from her throat. The rebel smiled, not in a way that would send someone to their knees before her, but carefully, testing, like she was proud of Althera for bringing the weapon into her cell.
"You don't have to do this, Zephyra." Her voice came out in a deep growl, something she still couldn't get rid of, along with many things she hated about herself.
Monster. Monster.
"And what do you think I'm going to do?" Her tone was coated in amusement. A mystifying smile crossed her lips.
Althera's eyes flitted to the dagger, then to Zephyra's wrist. She hadn't been trained to do any face-to-face combat, but if she could tear the beast apart with her own hands and live out several weeks without any food, she could dodge a blow.
"Don't waste your time, Althera. You are the last person I would hurt." Slinking back into the darkness of the cell, Zephyra's fingers probed the hilt of Althera's dagger, following the lines of the rose and the jewels that emblazoned the gold. "This is a good dagger. Very eccentric and ancient." She looked up from her inspection. "Where did you get this?"
Her bones tensed. That dungeon, the very essence of the quaking that started at her knees. She hadn't forgotten anything that had occurred in this castle, especially not that forbidden place. The coolness of it was a sheer replica of that iron cell, trapping her and watching her.
"I stole it." Yes, that was something Zephyra would never question. Stealing was in her blood. It was part of who she was and what she needed to become good at in order to be undefeatable – in order to finish her task and return home.
Home. Where was her home? Was there even anything left of it? She did not belong to Rillefaene anymore. There was no one there that remembered her anymore. They had all moved on from the royal family's death and were all busy throwing wreathes of flowers and kissing the boots of a distant cousin of hers, born from a relative of her fathers that had been put on the throne in her place.
"Impressive." Zephyra's brown eyes glistened with the flash of the steel blade Althera always cleaned at night before she went to bed, just for the sake of taking her mind off things and gazing at the beauty of that weapon and losing herself in the way the moonlight glanced off the hilt. "Do you know how to use it?"
Althera's leash broke. "Of course I know how to use it."
Monster. Monster.
A sly grin, and then the dagger went flying, pinning itself on the edge of Althera's cloak, a hair's breadth away from her hand. She didn't flinch.
Zephyra jerked her chin toward it. "Show me."
Althera's hand wrapped around the dagger, tugging it out. The shininess of the weapon teased her, laughing at her lack of control.
She flicked her wrist, and the dagger soared through the air, segmenting the air in half as it took flight, aiming for Zephyra's neck. As swift as a gust of wind, she ducked her head and the blade barely nicked her ear before she caught it with one small movement of her hand.
"Again," she merely said, tossing the weapon back at her. Althera clutched it, her palms sweaty.
If she wanted to fight her, Althera would be happy to play along. She rose onto her haunches and positioned herself so that with one leap, she would be on top of Zephyra, tackling her. Her opponent clicked her tongue, a signal for her to attack. She did, but all she met was air as she propelled into the pile of hay Zephyra had been sitting on top, spitting out the bits of dirt that clung to her mouth.
"Faster," the rebel demanded as Althera lurched forward again, the dagger edging toward Zephyra. She sent another lazy smile in her direction before slipping to the side. Althera narrowly missed stumbling into the wall.
She swore again, yanking at her gown. She hadn't anticipated they would be sparring today, so she had just put on whatever caught her eye, only realizing then that it had been another big mistake. The full skirts were impossible to move in and a terrible nuisance.
"Stop. Moving." She hissed through her teeth, each word escaping her throat with every swipe at Zephyra's smug but concentrated grin. She twisted and Althera slammed straight into the metal bars of the cell, a groan leaving her sliced lips.
A moment later, Zephyra said from behind her, "Do you admit you don't know how to fight?"
She whirled around, eyes thinning. "I know how to fight."
"I know you do, and very aggressively and gracelessly. What I mean to say was: do you admit you don't know how to fight with the dagger?" She waved a hand at the weapon still sticking out from Althera's bunched up fist.
"No." The words were barely out of her mouth before she charged forward again, eyes locked on Zephyra's neck.
The rebel sighed at the endless repetition of blows and aims and moved to deflect the blow with an arm, but with a grin that cut Althera's face, the dagger descended at the last second, slashing the sleeve of her shirt, a trickle of blood running down her arm. She glanced down at it, alarmed, before forcing her body to the side and avoiding another strike, this time targeting her chest. Althera halted with a stagger, nodding at the scratch that was already sealing itself together.
"I told you – I know how to fight." Her chest heaved up and down. "With a dagger, I mean."
Zephyra's answering smile was all the response she needed.
