Off With His Head

13. Assess your surroundings

By lunch time, I'm covered in soon to be bruises, and my back and butt are almost numb from hitting the floor so many times. I gingerly walk to the edge of the training room, where there is a couple of chairs, and gratefully collapse into one.

I don't think I have ever been in so much pain in my life, and I'm covered in sweat and small scratches. Clearly, combat is not my thing.

"Jennings, catch." Caleb grabs a bottle of water out of a small fridge that's in the corner and throws it at me, but my reflexes are too slow and it hits me on the arm with a loud thwack.

"What the hell, Calloway!" I rub my arm where another bruise will probably show up tomorrow.

He just chuckles, clearly finding amusement in my pain. "Rule number one, Jennings," he reminds me.

I curse under my breath, tempted to tell him where he can shove his rule. I settle for taking a sip of the cool refreshing liquid instead, letting it slide down my throat and quench my thirst as my breathing returns to normal.

"Right," he claps his hands together. I don't think he has even one drop of sweat on him; he doesn't look like he's spent the morning knocking me to the floor. While I'm still heaving and panting from exertion, his breathing is even, the rise and fall of his chest calm and steady. "One-hour break for lunch, and then we need to get back into it."

My mouth drops open and I wait for him to laugh indicating that he was joking. When he doesn't I know he is serious. "Are you insane?"

"You need to be 100% committed."

"You need to be committed-," but he doesn't let me finish my sentence, grabbing my arm and pulling me back up to my feet.

"Let's get you something to eat." He drags me out the training room and I struggle to keep up on my wobbly legs. We head back through the endless hallways, eventually arriving at a kitchen I haven't seen before.

Steam fills the air, pouring out of numerous pots littered across two gas burners. Heat emanates from an oven that's tucked away in the corner closest to the door. Pleasant aromas of garlic and onion invade my nose the second we step inside.

A lady stands by a steel counter, pressing a rolling pin on a dough of some sort. Her blonde hair is tied up into a bun with some loose strands clinging to her forehead and neck. Her cheeks are dusted with flour and slightly red from the heat in the room. A white apron covers her front, littered in an array of colours and stains. She looks up as we enter, a smile immediately stretching across her face.

"Ah Caleb." She places the rolling pin down, walking over to him and throwing her arms around him. "It's so lovely to see you. I'm assuming this young lady is Peyton? How is training going?"

"She's bad at it," he answers before I can, earning a scowl from me. I can't help but feel that it's partly his fault. If he had just let me have my morning dose of caffeine, I probably would have been more switched on.

Actually, that's not true. He still would have beaten me easily, but at least if I had coffee in me it would have softened the blow.

"Don't listen to him, dear." She pats me softly on the arm. Her brown eyes are filled with genuine warmth and I decide I like her already. "I think it's very brave what you are doing."

"Thank you, uh-," I realize that she knows my name but I don't know hers.

"Alice," she fills in the blank for me. "Can I get you anything to eat?"

"Alice prepares all our meals," Caleb explains. "And also, she makes the best pasta you have ever tasted. Peyton will have a sandwich, please Alice. With anything."