Forged in Frost and Fire (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Kings trilogy)

Chapter Twenty Seven

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"You need to raise the sword, the ground is not your enemy." Sable was leaning against the wall, watching as I struggled to perform the moves that he had just drilled into my head.

"My arms are tired," I said. "Did you forget you left me on a mountain yesterday and I'm still recuperating?"

"I didn't forget," he said. "I simply don't care. Do it again." He bobbed his chin at the sword and I sighed, looking at the weapon that had become my enemy in the past hour. The army had taught us basic sword training, but they merely skimmed over it, more focused on getting us strong.

I raised the sword and arched it over my head, balancing on my feet as I parried to the right, then to the left, twisting it around my body in the ways he had taught me. Every imaginary stab and slice got me more tired and by the end, I was gasping, wiping the beginning of sweat at my brow. That was a plus of running so cool, I barely sweat.

"Again," he said.

"I can't." The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Sable glared at me, those piercing gray points seemed to set my body aflame. Cold anger stirred in my gut and my fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword. "You're pushing me too much. I'll be too sore to do anything tomorrow. I'm supposed to be healing today."

"I understand," he said, standing from the wall. I felt myself freeze. Seriously? He took a few steps towards me, his hands in his pockets. "I understand that if you were injured in war, you'd take a couple days rest while your soldiers suffered and died out at the battlefield just so you could get a healing day."

"That's not what I-"

"No, it's alright, really," he said. "Being selfish will get you so far in this palace." His eyes were like unsheathed blades, I felt the points raking across my vulnerable flesh.

"I can't keep going," I said.

"I don't think I asked for your opinion," he said. "Do it again or I add a five mile run, with sprints, and weightlifting." He stalked towards me, only stopping so he could bend and speak into my ear. "Feeling so opinionated now, Eira?" His shoulder brushed the side of my head as he continued past me. Bastard.

I raised the sword again, arms aching, teeth gritted together, and I started again.

It went on like that for another hour, simple drills and practices over and over again until I couldn't raise the sword without trembling. In fact, my whole body was trembling, nothing wasn't shaking. Every muscle in my body ached and felt stretched thin. My temples were pounding and sweat was collecting on my brow.

"Your performance was adequate, though you're supremely underprepared if you wish to work for the king."

"I don't wish it," I said, running my thumb along the edge of the training sword. It was made out of wood and the tip was blunt, but it was as heavy as a real sword, that was for sure. My poor muscles certainly were given no mercy.

Sable didn't respond to my words, he simply pinched his lips into a straight line. "You're not done with your training yet."

"What?" The word was a breathless gasp.

"You're done with a part of your training, the physical part, but you still have to train your powers." I hung my head, letting out a hefty sigh. I could not believe this man. Did he not realize my stamina was gone? Completely drained? I had nothing.

"Hold my arm," he said. I picked my head up, staring at him.

"Excuse me?" I asked. His glare was enough to make a thousand happy children on Winter Solstice day start crying.